O when our zun's a-zinkèn low,
How soft's the light his feäce do drow
Upon the backward road our mind
Do turn an' zee a-left behind;
When we, in childhood's days did vind
Our jaÿ among the gil'cup flow'rs,
All drough the zummer's zunny hours;
An' sleep did come wi' the dew.
An' afterwards, when we did zweat
A tweilèn in the zummer het,
An' when our daily work wer done
Did meet to have our evenèn fun:
Till up above the zettèn zun
The sky wer blushèn in the west,
An' we laid down in peace to rest,
An' sleep did come wi' the dew.
Ah! zome do turn--but tidden right--
The night to day, an' day to night;
But we do zee the vu'st red streak
O' mornèn, when the day do break;
Zoo we don't grow up peäle an' weak,
But we do work wi' health an' strength,
Vrom mornèn drough the whole day's length,
An' sleep do come wi' the dew.
An' when, at last, our e'thly light
Is jist a-drawèn in to night,
We mid be sure that God above,
If we be true when he do prove
Our stedvast faïth an' thankvul love,
Wull do vor us what mid be best,
An' teäke us into endless rest,
As sleep do come wi' the dew.
