Classic Poem

When out below the trees, that drow'd
Their scraggy lim's athirt the road,
While evenèn zuns, a'móst a-zet,
Gi'ed goolden light, but little het,
The merry chaps an' maïdens met,
An' look'd to zomebody to neäme
Their bit o' fun, a dance or geäme,
'Twer Poll they cluster'd round.

An' after they'd a-had enough
O' snappèn tongs, or blind-man's buff,
O' winter nights, an' went an' stood
Avore the vire o' bleäzen wood,
Though there wer maidens kind an' good,
Though there wer maïdens feäir an' tall,
'Twer Poll that wer the queen o'm all,
An' Poll they cluster'd round.

An' when the childern used to catch
A glimpse o' Poll avore the hatch,
The little things did run to meet
Their friend wi' skippèn tott'rèn veet.
An' thought noo other kiss so sweet
As hers; an' nwone could vind em out
Such geämes to meäke em jump an' shout,
As Poll they cluster'd round.

An' now, since she've a-left em, all
The pleäce do miss her, girt an' small.
In vaïn vor them the zun do sheen
Upon the lwonesome rwoad an' green;
Their zwing do hang vorgot between
The leänen trees, vor they've a-lost
The best o' maïdens, to their cost,
The maïd they cluster'd round.