An' Chris'mas still mid bring his me'th
To ouer he'th, but if we tried
To gather all that woonce did wear
Gay feäces there! Ah! zome ha' died,
An' zome be gone to leäve wi' gaps
O' missèn laps, the vier-zide.
But come now, bring us in your hand,
A heavy brand o' woak a-dried,
To cheer us wi' his het an' light,
While vrosty night, so starry-skied,