An' then her father, in his pride
An' anger, offer'd woone o' two
Vull bitter things to undergoo
To thik poor weepèn leädy:
That she herzelf should leäve his door,
To darken it ageän noo mwore;
Or that her little plaÿsome chile,
A-zent away a thousand mile,
Should never meet her eyes to smile
An' plaÿ ageän; till she, in sheäme,