When leäzers wi' their laps o' corn
Noo longer be a-stoopèn,
An' in the stubble, all vorlorn,
Noo poppies be a-droopèn;
When theäse young harvest-moon do weäne,
That now've his horns so thin, O,
We'll leäve off walkèn in the leäne,
While night's a zettèn in, O.
When zummer doust is all a-laid
Below our litty shoes, O;
When all the raïn-chill'd flow'rs be dead,
That now do drink the dews, O;
When beauty's neck, that's now a-show'd,
'S a-muffled to the chin, O;
We'll leäve off walkèn in the road,
When night's a-zettèn in, O.
But now, while barley by the road
Do hang upon the bough, O,
A-pull'd by branches off the lwoad
A-ridèn hwome to mow, O;
While spiders roun' the flower-stalks
Ha' cobwebs yet to spin, O,
We'll cool ourzelves in out-door walks,
When night's a-zettèn in, O.
While down at vword the brook so small,
That leätely wer so high, O,
Wi' little tinklèn sounds do vall
In roun' the stwones half dry, O;
While twilight ha' sich aïr in store,
To cool our zunburnt skin, O,
We'll have a ramble out o' door,
When night's a-zettèn in, O.
