That father's father had in hand,
An' there, in oben light did spread,
The very groun's his cows did tread,
An' there above the stwonèn tun
Avore the dazzlèn mornèn zun,
Wer still the rollèn smoke, the breath
A-breath'd vrom his wold house's he'th;
An' there did lie below the door,
The drashol' that his vootsteps wore;
But there his meäte an' he bwoth died,