An' streams do flow along so vast;
Ageän the storms so rough abroad,
An' angry tongues so gruff abroad,
The love that I do meet vrom you
Is lik' the vallèn dew.
An' you be sprack's a bee on wing,
In search ov honey in the Spring:
The dawn-red sky do meet ye up;
The birds vu'st cry do meet ye up;
An' wi' your feäce a-smilèn on,