The while a bridegroom vrom my hand
Ha' took ye vor his faïthvul bride.
Your christèn neäme we gi'd ye here,
When Fall did cool the weästèn year;
An' now, ageän, we brought ye drough
The doorway, wi' your surneäme new,
In slantèn light o' Fall.
An' zoo vur, Jeäne, your life is feäir,
An' God ha' been your steadvast friend,
An' mid ye have mwore jaÿ than ceäre,