Classic Poem

Now the sheädes o' the elems do stratch mwore an' mwore,
Vrom the low-zinken zun in the west o' the sky;
An' the maidens do stan' out in clusters avore
The doors, vor to chatty an' zee vo'k goo by.

An' their cwombs be a-zet in their bunches o' heäir,
An' their currels do hang roun' their necks lily-white,
An' their cheäks they be rwosy, their shoulders be beäre,
Their looks they be merry, their limbs they be light.

An' the times have a-been — but they can't be noo mwore —
When I had my jaÿè under evenen's dim sky,
When my Fanny did stan' out wi' others avore
Her door, vor to chatty an' zee vo'k goo by.

An' up there, in the green, is her own honey-zuck,
That her brother train'd up roun' her window; an' there
Is the rwose an' the jessamy, where she did pluck
A flow'r vor her bosom or bud vor her heäir.

An' zoo smile, happy maidens! vor every feäce,
As the zummers do come, an' the years do roll by,
Will soon sadden, or goo vur away vrom the pleäce,
Or else, lik' my Fanny, will wither an' die.

But when you be a-lost vrom the parish, zome mwore
Will come on in your pleäzen to bloom an' to die;
An' the zummer will always have maidens avore
Their doors, vor to chatty an' zee vo'k goo by.

Vor daughters ha' mornen when mothers ha' night,
An' there's beauty alive when the feäirest is dead;
As when woone sparklen weäve do zink down vrom the light,
Another do come up an' catch it instead.

Zoo smile on, happy maidens! but I shall noo mwore
Zee the maid I do miss under evenen's dim sky;
An' my heart is a-touch'd to zee you out avore
The doors, vor to chatty an' zee vo'k goo by.