Upon the Winter's Willow.
Above the coach-wheels' rollèn rims
She never rose to ride, O,
Though she do zet her comely lim's
Above the mare's white zide, O;
But don't become too proud to stoop
An' scrub her milkèn païl's white hoop,
Or zit a-milkèn where do droop,
The wet-stemm'd Winter's Willow.
An' I've a cow or two in leäze,