I must scorn, but love thee still,
Pretty Jeäne o' Grenley Mill.
Oh! if ever thy soft eyes
Could ha' turn'd vrom outward show,
To a lover born to rise
When a higher woone wer low;
If thy love, when zoo a-tried,
Could ha' stood ageän thy pride,
How should I ha' lov'd thee still,
Pretty Jeäne o' Grenley Mill.