How bright do roll the weävy brook:
When there, a-passèn on my right,
A-waikèn slow, an' treadèn light,
Young Jessie Lee come by, an' there
Took all my ceäre, an' all my zight.
Vor lovely wer the looks her feäce
Held up avore the western sky:
An' comely wer the steps her peäce
Did meäke a-walkèn slowly by:
But I went east, wi' beätèn breast,