Zome a-cut off alive, an' zome dead.
An' vor burnèn, well wo'th reäkèn off,
By the childern a-pickèn o' scroff.
In the tree-studded leäze, where the woak
Wer a-spreadèn his head out around,
There the scrags that the wind had a-broke,
Wer a-lyèn about on the ground
Or the childern, wi' little red hands,
Wer a-tyèn em up in their bands;
Vor noo squier or farmer turn'd off