The bloom that woonce did overspread
Your rounded cheäk, as time went by,
A-shrinkèn to a patch o' red,
Did feäde so soft's the evenèn sky:
The evenèn sky, my faithful wife,
O' days as feäir's our happy life.
ZUNDAY.
In zummer, when the sheädes do creep
Below the Zunday steeple, round