As evenèn aïr, in green-treed Spring,
Do sheäke the new-sprung pa'sley bed,
An' wither'd ash-tree keys do swing
An' vall a-flutt'rèn roun' our head:
There, while the birds do zing their zong
In bushes down the ash-tree drong,
Come Jessie Lee, vor sweet's the pleäce
Your vaïce an' feäce can meäke vor me.
Below the buddèn ashes' height
We there can linger in the lew,
While boughs, a-gilded by the light,
Do sheen avore the sky o' blue:
But there by zettèn zun, or moon
A-risèn, time wull vlee too soon
Wi' Jessie Lee, vor sweet's the pleäce
Her vaïce an' feäce can meäke vor me.
Down where the darksome brook do flow,
Below the bridge's archèd wall,
Wi' alders dark, a-leanèn low,
Above the gloomy watervall;
There I've a-led ye hwome at night,
Wi' noo feäce else 'ithin my zight
But yours so feäir, an' sweet's the pleäce
Your vaïce an' feäce ha' meäde me there.
An' oh! when other years do come,
An' zettèn zuns, wi' yollow gleäre,
Drough western window-peänes, at hwome,
Do light upon my evenèn chair:
While day do weäne, an' dew do vall,
Be wi' me then, or else in call,
As time do vlee, vor sweet's the pleäce
Your vaïce an' feäce do meäke vor me.
Ah! you do smile, a-thinkèn light
O' my true words, but never mind;
Smile on, smile on, but still your flight
Would leäve me little jaÿ behind:
But let me not be zoo a-tried
Wi' you a-lost where I do bide,
O Jessie Lee, in any pleäce
Your vaïce an' feäce ha' blest vor me.
I'm sure that when a soul's a-brought
To this our life ov aïr an' land,
Woone mwore's a-mark'd in God's good thought,
To help, wi' love, his heart an' hand.
An' oh! if there should be in store
An angel here vor my poor door,
'Tis Jessie Lee, vor sweet's the pleäce
Her vaïce an' feace can meäke vor me.
