An' teäke a sweetheart's walk woonce mwore.
But often when the western zide
O' trees did glow at evenèn-tide,
Or when the leäter moon did light
The beeches' eastern boughs at night,
An' in the grove, where vo'k did rove
The crumpled leaves did vlee an' spin,
You couldèn sheäre the pleasure there:
Your work or childern kept ye in.
Come, Etty dear, come out o' door,