On ashes on the southern height;

An' I could vind zome teäles to tell,

O' former days in Culver Dell.

An' all the vo'k did love so well

The good wold squire o' Culver Dell,

That used to ramble drough the sheädes

O' timber, or the burnèn gleädes,

An' come at evenèn up the leäze

Wi' red-eär'd dogs bezide his knees.

An' hold his gun, a-hangèn drough