An' here a geäte, a-slammèn to,
Did let the slow-wheel'd plough roll drough.
Ov all that then went by, but vew
Be now a-left behine', to beät
The mornèn flow'rs or evenèn dew,
Or slam the woakèn vive-bar'd geäte;
But woone, my wife, so litty-stepp'd,
That have a-kept my path o' life,
Wi' her vew errands on the road,
Where woonce she bore her mother's lwoad.