An' he sway'd all his limbs, an' he nodded his head,

ill he vell away down like a pillar o' lead:

An' as we did run vrom en, there; clwose at our backs,

Oh! his boughs come to groun' wi' sich whizzes an' cracks;

An' his top wer so lofty that, now he is down,

The stem o'n do reach a-most over the groun'.

Zoo the girt elem tree out in little hwome groun'

Wer a-stannèn this mornèn, an' now's a-cut down.

BRINGEN WOONE GWAÏN[*] O' ZUNDAYS.