The lovely maïd ov Elwell Meäd.
For when the zun, as birds do rise,
Do cast their sheädes vrom autum' skies,
A-sparklèn in her dewy eyes,
O leänèn lawns ov Allen
Then all your mossy paths below
The trees, wi' leaves a-vallèn slow,
Like zinkèn fleäkes o' yollow snow,
O leänèn lawns ov Allen.
Would be mwore teäkèn where they straÿ'd