Avore the vire o' bleäzen wood,
Though there wer maïdens kind an' good,
Though there wer maïdens feäir an' tall,
'Twer Poll that wer the queen o'm all,
An' Poll they cluster'd round.
An' when the childern used to catch
A glimpse o' Poll avore the hatch,
The little things did run to meet
Their friend wi' skippèn tott'rèn veet
An' thought noo other kiss so sweet