Here went swift, an' there wer slow.

Now the cwolder-blowèn blast,

Here do cast vrom elems' heads

Feäded leaves, a-whirlèn round,

Down to ground, in yollow beds,

Ruslèn under milkers' shoes,

When the day do dry the dews.

Soon shall grass, a-vrosted bright,

Glisten white instead o' green,

An' the wind shall smite the cows,