His vace war like a zummer dAc,
When Acll the birds be zingin;
Smiles an good nature dimplin stood,
An moor besides, an Acll za good,
Much pleasant promise bringin.
Now Jan war sawber, and afeard
Nif he in haste shood morry,
That he mid long repent thereof;
An zo a thwart 'twar best not, thawf
To stAc mid make en zorry.
Jan oten pAcss'd the happy door,
There Fanny stood a scrubbin;
An Fanny hired hiz pleasant voice,
An thawt--"An if she had er choice!"
An veel'd athin a drubbin.
Bit Jan did'n hulder long iz thawts;
Vor thorough iv'ry cranny,
Hirn'd of iz Lort tha warm hird tide;
An a cood na moor iz veelins bide,
Bit tell 'em must to Fanny.
To Fanny, than, one Whitsun eve,
A tawld er how a lov'd er;
Naw dove, a zed to er cood be
Moor faithvul than to her ood he;
His hort had long appruv'd er.
Wi' timourous blishin, Fanny zed,
"A maid mist not believe ye;
Vor men ool tell ther lovin tale,
And awver seely maids prevail--
Bit I dwont like ta grieve ye:
Vor nif za be you now zAc true--
That you've for I a fancy:
(Aw Jan! I dwont veel desperd well,
An what's tha cAcze, I cannot tell),
You'll zAc na moor to Nancy.
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