She wer heedless o' my love.
Tho' 'twer all gaÿ to my eyes,
Where her feäir feäce did arise,
She noo mwore thought upon my thoughts,
Than the high moon in the skies.
Oh! I vu'st heärd her a-zingèn,
As a sweet bird on a tree,
Though her zingèn wer my pleasure,
'Twer noo zong she zung to me.
Though her sweet vaïce that wer nigh,