My Meäry's smile, o' Morey's Mill,
My rwose o' Mowy Lea.
An' O! mid never tears come on,
To wash her feäce's blushes wan,
Nor kill her smiles that now do plaÿ
Like sparklèn weäves in zunny Maÿ;
But mid she still, vor all she's gone
Vrom souls she now do smile upon,
Show others they can vind woone jaÿ
To turn the hardest work to plaÿ.