Ov all the housen o' the pleäce,
There's woone where I do like to call
By day or night the best ov all,
To zee my Fanny's smilèn feäce;
An' there the steätely trees do grow,
A-rockèn as the win' do blow,
While she do sweetly sleep below,
In the stillness o' the night.
An' there, at evenèn, I do goo
A-hoppèn over geätes an' bars,
By twinklèn light o' winter stars,
When snow do clumper to my shoe;
An' zometimes we do slyly catch
A chat an hour upon the stratch,
An' peärt wi' whispers at the hatch
In the stillness o' the night.
An' zometimes she do goo to zome
Young naïghbours' housen down the pleäce,
An' I do get a clue to treäce
Her out, an' goo to zee her hwome;
An' I do wish a vield a mile,
As she do sweetly chat an' smile
Along the drove, or at the stile,
In the stillness o' the night.
