The day mid come, the zun mid rise,
But there's noo hope o' day nor zun;
The storm ha' blow'd, the harm's a-done,
An' hope's a-left behind her.
The time will come when thou wouldst gi'e
The worold vor to have her smile,
Or meet her by the parrock tree,
Or catch her jumpèn off the stile;
Thy life's avore thee vor a while,
But thou wilt turn thy mind in time,