We zet, in eärnest, ev'ry woone
A-haulèn o' the corn.
The hosses, wi' the het an' lwoad,
Did froth, an' zwang vrom zide to zide,
A-gwaïn along the dousty road,
An' seem'd as if they would a-died.
An' wi' my collar all undone,
An' neck a-burnèn wi' the zun,
I got, wi' work, an' doust, an' het,
So dry at last, I coulden spet,