brisk's you can,
An' get your work up under han';
Vor I an' Jim, an' Poll's young man,
Shall goo to feaeir; an' zoo,
If you wull let us gi'e ye a eaerm
Along the road, or in the zwarm
O' vo'k, we'll keep ye out o' harm,
An' gi'e ye a feaeiren too.

We won't stay leaete there, I'll be boun';
We'll bring our sheaedes off out o' town
A mile, avore the zun is down,
If he's a sheenen clear.
Zoo when your work is all a-done,
Your mother can't but let ye run
An' zee a little o' the fun,
There's nothen there to fear.

JEAeNE O' GRENLEY MILL.

When in happy times we met,
Then by look an' deed I show'd,
How my love wer all a-zet
In the smiles that she bestow'd.
She mid have, o' left an' right,
Maidens feaeirest to the zight;
I'd a-chose among em still,
Pretty Jeaene o' Grenley Mill.

She wer feaeirer, by her cows
In her work-day frock a-drest,
Than the rest wi' scornvul brows
All a-flanten in their best.
Gay did seem, at feaest or feaeir,
Zights that I had her to sheaere;
Gay would be my own heart still,
But vor Jeaene o' Grenley Mill.

Jeaene--a-checken ov her love--
Leaen'd to woone that, as she guess'd,
Stood in worldly wealth above
Me she know'd she lik'd the best.
He wer wild, an' soon run drough
All that he'd a-come into,
Heartlessly a-treaten ill
Pretty Jeaene o' Grenley Mill.

Oh! poor Jenny! thou'st a tore
Hopen love vrom my poor heart,
Losen vrom thy own small store,
All the better, sweeter peaert.
Hearts a-slighted must vorseaeke
Slighters, though a-doom'd to break;
I must scorn, but love thee still,
Pretty Jeaene o' Grenley Mill.

Oh! if ever thy soft eyes
Could ha' turn'd vrom outward show,
To a lover born to rise
When a higher woone wer low;
If thy love, when zoo a-tried,
Could ha' stood ageaen thy pride,
How should I ha' lov'd thee still,
Pretty Jeaene o' Grenley Mill.

THE BELLS OV ALDERBURNHAM.

While now upon the win' do zwell
The church-bells' evenen peal, O,
Along the bottom, who can tell
How touch'd my heart do veel, O.
To hear ageaen, as woonce they rung
In holidays when I wer young,
Wi' merry sound
A-ringen round,
The bells ov Alderburnham.

Vor when they rung their gayest peals
O' zome sweet day o' rest, O,
We all did ramble drough the viels,
A-dress'd in all our b