An' rise roun' Blackmwore lik' a wall,
'Tis yonder knap do teäke my zight
Vrom dawn till night, the mwost ov all.
An' there, in Maÿ, 'ithin the lewth
O' boughs in blooth, be sheädy walks,
An' cowslips up in yollow beds
Do hang their heads on downy stalks;
An' if the weather should be feäir
When I've a holiday to speäre,
I'll teäke the chance o' gettèn drough