Where Ruth do come a-ridèn.
An' I would rise when vields be grey
Wi' mornèn dew, avore 'tis dry,
An' beät the doust droughout the day
To bluest hills ov all the sky;
If there, avore the dusk o' night,
The evenèn zun, a-sheenèn bright,
Would pay my leäbors wi' the zight
O' Ruth—o' Ruth a-ridèn.
Her healthy feäce is rwosy feäir,