Did ramble roun' them bubblèn shoals!
An' oh! that zome o' them young souls,
That we, in jaÿ, did plaÿ wi' then
Could come back now, an' bring ageän
The looks we know'd avore, John.
So soon's the barley's dead an' down,
The clover-leaf do rise vrom groun',
An' wolder feäzen do but goo
To be a-vollow'd still by new;
But souls that be a-tried an' true