An' my childern, tall or small,
Since last Fall be woone year wolder.
Woone year wolder, woone year dearer,
Till when they do leave my he'th,
I shall be noo mwore a hearer
O' their vaïces or their me'th.
There dead ash leaves be a-toss'd
In the wind, a-blowèn stronger,
An' our life-time, since we lost
Souls we lov'd, is woone year longer.