A curtain feäded wi' the zun,
Avore the window freäm'd wi' stwone.
When Hwome-ground grass, below the moon,
Wer damp wi' evenèn dew in June,
An' aunt did call the maïdens in
Vrom walkèn, wi' their shoes too thin,
They zot to rest their litty veet
Upon the window's woaken seat,
An' chatted there, in light that shone
In drough the window freäm'd wi' stwone.