we do lose, still gay an' young,
A vaice that us'd to call woone's neaeme,
An' after years ageaen his tongue
Do sound upon our ears the seaeme,
Do kindle love anew, John,
Do wet woone's eyes wi' dew, John,
As we do sheaeke, vor friendship's seaeke,
His vist an' vind en true, John.

What tender thoughts do touch woone's soul,
When we do zee a meaed or hill
Where we did work, or play, or stroll,
An' talk wi' vaices that be still;
'Tis touchen vor to treaece, John,
Wold times drough ev'ry pleaece, John;
But that can't touch woone's heart so much,
As zome wold long-lost feaece, John.

THE RWOSE THAT DECK'D HER BREAST.

Poor Jenny wer her Robert's bride
Two happy years, an' then he died;
An' zoo the wold vo'k meaede her come,
Vorseaeken, to her maiden hwome.
But Jenny's merry tongue wer dum';
An' round her comely neck she wore
A murnen kerchif, where avore
The rwose did deck her breast.

She walk'd alwone, wi' eye-balls wet,
To zee the flow'rs that she'd a-zet;
The lilies, white's her maiden frocks,
The spike, to put 'ithin her box,
Wi' columbines an' hollyhocks;
The jilliflow'r an' nodden pink,
An' rwose that touch'd her soul to think
Ov woone that deck'd her breast.

Vor at her wedden, just avore
Her maiden hand had yet a-wore
A wife's goold ring, wi' hangen head
She walk'd along thik flower-bed,
Where stocks did grow, a-stained wi' red,
An' meaerygoolds did skirt the walk,
An' gather'd vrom the rwose's stalk
A bud to deck her breast.

An' then her cheaek, wi' youthvul blood
Wer bloomen as the rwoses bud;
But now, as she wi' grief do pine,
'Tis peaele's the milk-white jessamine.
But Robert have a-left behine
A little beaeby wi' his feaece,
To smile, an' nessle in the pleaece
Where the rwose did deck her breast.

NANNY'S COW.

Ov all the cows, among the rest
Wer woone that Nanny lik'd the best;
An' after milken us'd to stan'
A-veeden o' her, vrom her han',
Wi' grass or hay; an' she know'd Ann,
An' in the evenen she did come
The vu'st, a-beaeten uep roun' hwome
Vor Ann to come an' milk her.

Her back wer hollor as a bow,
Her lags wer short, her body low;
Her head wer small, her horns turn'd in
Avore Her feaece so sharp's a pin:
Her eyes wer vull, her ears wer thin,
An' she wer red vrom head to tail,