Too quick vor zight, the snow-white thread,
Unless her han', wi' lovèn ceäre,
Did smooth their little heads o' heäir;
Or wi' a sheäke, tie up anew
Vor zome wild voot, a slippèn shoe;
An' I did leän bezide thy mound
Ageän the deäsy-dappled ground,
The while the woaken clock did tick
My hour o' rest away too quick,
An' call me off to work anew,