An' dumpy Nan, an' Poll so sly;
An' dapper Tom, an' loppèn Jim,
An' little Dick, an' Fan, an' I.
An' there the lwoaded tree bent low,
Behung wi' apples green an' red;
An' springèn grass could hardly grow,
Drough windvalls down below his head.
An' when the maïdens come in roun'
The heavy boughs to vill their laps,
We slily shook the apples down