Classic Poem

When in happy times we met,
Then by look an' deed I show'd,
How my love wer all a-zet
In the smiles that she bestow'd.
She mid have, o' left an' right,
Maidens feäirest to the zight;
I'd a-chose among em still,
Pretty Jeäne o' Grenley Mill.

She wer feäirer, by her cows
In her work-day frock a-drest,
Than the rest wi' scornvul brows
All a-flanten in their best.
Gaÿè did seem, at feäst or feäir,
Zights that I had her to sheäre;
Gaÿè would be my own heart still,
But vor Jeäne o' Grenley Mill.

Jeäne — a-checken ov her love —
Leän'd to woone that, as she guess'd,
Stood in worldly wealth above
Me she know'd she lik'd the best.
He wer wild, an' soon run drough
All that he'd a-come into,
Heartlessly a-treaten ill
Pretty Jeäne o' Grenley Mill.

Oh! poor Jenny! thou'st a-tore
Hopen love vrom my poor heart,
Losen vrom thy own small store,
All the better, sweeter peärt.
Hearts a-slighted must vorseäke
Slighters, though a-doom'd to break;
I must scorn, but love thee still,
Pretty Jeäne o' Grenley Mill.

Oh! if ever thy soft eyes
Could ha' turn'd vrom outward show,
To a lover born to rise
When a higher woone wer low;
If thy love, when zoo a-tried,
Could ha' stood ageän thy pride,
How should I ha' lov'd thee still,
Pretty Jeäne o' Grenley Mill.