So peäle wi' smoke an' gas, O;
But here, in vields o' greäzèn herds,
Her väice ha' mingled sweetest words
Wi' evenèn cheärms o' busy birds,
Bezide the Winter's Willow.
An' when, at last, wi' beätèn breast,
I knock'd avore her door, O,
She ax'd me in to teäke the best
O' pleäces on the vloor, O;
An' smilèn feäir avore my zight,