My hwome wer on the timber'd ground
O' Duncombe, wi' the hills a-bound:
Where vew from other peärts did come,
An' vew did travel vur from hwome,
An' small the worold I did know;
But then, what had it to bestow
But Fanny Deäne so good an' feäir?
'Twer wide enough if she wer there.
In our deep hollow where the zun
Did eärly leäve the smoky tun,
An' all the meäds a-growèn dim,
Below the hill wi' zunny rim;
Oh! small the land the hills did bound,
But there did walk upon the ground
Young Fanny Deäne so good an' feäir:
'Twer wide enough if she wer there.
O' leäte upon the misty plaïn
I staÿ'd vor shelter vrom the raïn,
Where sharp-leav'd ashès' heads did twist
In hufflèn wind, an' driftèn mist,
An' small the worold I could zee;
But then it had below the tree
My Fanny Deäne so good an' feäir:
'Twer wide enough if she wer there.
An' I've a house wi' thatchen ridge,
Below the elems by the bridge:
Wi' small-peän'd windows, that do look
Upon a knap, an' ramblèn brook;
An' small's my house, my ruf is low,
But then who mid it have to show
But Fanny Deäne so good an' feäir?
'Tis fine enough if peace is there.
