An' vull an angel he shall be,
But here on e'th not vull a man,
No; I could boast if others can,
I'm vull a man.
I woonce, a child, wer father-fed,
An' I've a vound my childern bread;
My eärm, a sister's trusty crook,
Is now a faïthvul wife's own hook;
An' I've a-gone where vo'k did zend,
An' gone upon my own free mind,