That meäde their sweet-hearts happy brides,
An' come to kneel down at their zides
At church o' happy Zundays.
'Tis good to zee woone's naïghbours come
Out drough the churchyard, vlockèn hwome,
As woone do nod, an' woone do smile,
An' woone do toss another's chile;
An' zome be sheäken han's, the while
Poll's uncle, chuckèn her below
Her chin, do tell her she do grow,