An' slight's the hope vor any pleäce bezide,
To leäve the plaïn abode where love do bide.
Where the shelvèn knap do vall, John,
Under trees a-springèn tall, John;
'Tis there my house do show his sheenèn zide,
Wi' his walls vor ever green, John,
Under ivy that's a screen, John,
Vrom wet an' het, an' ev'ry changèn tide,
An' I do little ho vor goold or pride,
To leäve the plaïn abode where love do bide.