Where his mornèn rim o' vier
Soon ageän shall meet his eyes.
Leaves be now a-scatter'd round
In the wind, a-blowèn bleaker,
An' if we do walk the ground
Wi' our life-strangth woone year weaker.
Woone year weaker, woone year nigher
To the pleäce where we shall vind
Woone that's deathless vor the dier,
Voremost they that dropp'd behind.