An' vound en at his own mill-head,
An' cast upon en, iron-tight,
An icy cwoat so stiff as lead.
An' there he wer so good as dead
Vor grindèn any corn vor bread.
Then Water cried to Vier, "Alack!
Look, here be I, so stiff's a log,
Thik fellor Aïr do keep me back
Vrom grindèn. I can't wag a cog.
If I, dear Vier, did ever souse