By keen-aïr'd Winter's vrost wer bound,
An' star-bright snow did streak the forms
O' beäre-lim'd trees in darksome storms,
Sweet Linda Deäne did lightly glide,
Wi' snow-white robe an' rwosy feäce,
Upon the smooth-vloor'd hall, to treäce
The merry dance o' Chris'mas tide;
But oh! not mine be balls so fine
As Linda Deäne's at Ellendon.
Sweet Linda Deäne do match the skies