Sho stud beside hur looms an’ watch’d
The shuttle passin in,
But yet hur soul wor sumweer else,
’Twor face ta face wi’ John.
They saw hur lips move az in speech,
Yet none cud heear a word,
An’ but fer t’grinding o’ the wheels,
This langwidge mite be heard.

“It spite o’ all thi trecherus art,
At length aw breeath again;
The pityin stars hez tane mi part,
An’ eased a wretch’s pain.
An’ O, aw feel az fra a chain,
Mi rescued soul is free,
Aw know it is no idle dream
Of fancied liberty.

“Extingwish’d nah iz ivvery spark,
No love for thee remains,
Fer heart-felt love e vane sall strive
Ta lurk beneath disdain,
No longer wen thi name I hear,
Mi conshus colour flies:
No longer wen thi face aw see,
Mi heart’s emoshun rise.

“Catch’t e the burd-lime’s trecherus twigs,
To weer he chanc’d to stray,
The burd iz fassend fathers leaves,
Then gladly flies away.
Hiz shatter’d wings he soon renews,
Of traps he iz awair;
Fer by experience he iz wise,
An’ shuns each futshur snair.

Awm speikin nah, an’ all mi aim
Iz but to pleas mi mind,
An’ yet aw care not if mi words
Wi thee can credit find.
Ner du I care if my decease
Sud be approved by thee;
Or wether tha wi ekwal ease
Does tawk again wi me.

“But, yet tha false decevin man,
Tha’s lost a heart sincere;
Aw naw net wich wants comfert most,
Or wich hez t’mooast ta fear.
But awm suer a lass more fond and true
No lad cud ivver find;
But a lad like thee iz easily found,
False, faithless, and unkind.”