Do listen, wi' white ears among
Her glossy heäirlocks, to the zong.
If, then, the while the moon do lïght
The lwonesome zinger o' the night,
His cwold-beam'd light do seem to show
The prowlèn owls the mouse below.
What then? Because an evil will,
Ov his sweet good, mid meäke zome ill,
Shall all his feäce be kept behind
The dark-brow'd hills to leäve us blind?"