Upon her lowly seat, O;
A hood did overhang her brow,
Her païl wer at her veet, O;
An' she wer kind, an' she wer feäir,
An' she wer young, an' free o' ceäre;
Vew winters had a-blow'd her heäir,
Bezide the Winter's Willow.
She idden woone a-rear'd in town
Where many a gaÿer lass, O,
Do trip a-smilèn up an' down,