O' eäle, to keep wold Chris'mas up.
An' let thy sister teäke thy eärm,
The walk won't do her any harm;
There's noo dirt now to spweil her frock,
The ground's a-vroze so hard's a rock.
You won't meet any stranger's feäce,
But only naïghbours o' the pleäce,
An' Stowe, an' Combe; an' two or dree
Vrom uncle's up at Rookery.
An' thou wu'lt vind a rwosy feäce,