Where, wide an' slow,
The stream did flow,
An' flags did grow, an' lightly vlee
Below the grey-leav'd withy tree,
While clack, clack, clack, vrom hour to hour,
Wi' whirlèn stwone, an' streamèn flour,
Did goo the mill by cloty Stour.
An' there in geämes by evenèn skies,
When Meäry zot her down to rest,
The broach upon her pankèn breast,