In orcha'd, where the pleäce woonce rung
Wi' laughs a-laugh'd an' zongs a-zung
By vaïces that be gone.
There's still the tree that bore our swing,
An' others where the birds did zing;
But long-leav'd docks do overgrow
The groun' we trampled heäre below,
Wi' merry skippèns to an' fro
Bezide the banks, where Jim did zit
A-plaÿèn o' the clarinit