o catch an' drink it, bright an' cool,
A-vallen light 'ithin the pool.

Zoo when, at last, I hung my head
Wi' thirsty lips a-burnen dry,
I come bezide a river-bed
Where water flow'd so blue's the sky;
An' there I meaede me up
O' coltsvoot leaf a cup,
Where water vrom his lip o' gray,
Wer sweet to sip thik burnen day.

But when our work is right, a jay
Do come to bless us in its train,
An' hardships ha' zome good to pay
The thoughtvul soul vor all their paein:
The het do sweeten sheaede,
An' weary lim's ha' meaede
A bed o' slumber, still an' sound,
By woody hill or grassy mound.

An' while I zot in sweet delay
Below an elem on a hill,
Where boughs a-halfway up did sway
In sheaedes o' lim's above em still,
An' blue sky show'd between
The flutt'ren leaeves o' green;
I woulden gi'e that gloom an' sheaede
Vor any room that weaelth ha' meaede.

But oh! that vo'k that have the roads
Where weary-vooted souls do pass,
Would leaeve bezide the stwone vor lwoads,
A little strip vor zummer grass;
That when the stwones do bruise
An' burn an' gall our tooes,
We then mid cool our veet on beds
O' wild-thyme sweet, or deaeisy-heads.

THE LEANE.

They do zay that a travellen chap
Have a-put in the newspeaeper now,
That the bit o' green ground on the knap
Should be all a-took in vor the plough.
He do fancy 'tis easy to show
That we can be but stunpolls at best,
Vor to leaeve a green spot where a flower can grow,
Or a voot-weary walker mid rest.
Tis hedge-grubben, Thomas, an' ledge-grubben,
Never a-done
While a sov'ren mwore's to be won.

The road, he do zay, is so wide
As 'tis wanted vor travellers' wheels,
As if all that did travel did ride
An' did never get galls on their heels.
He would leaeve sich a thin strip o' groun',
That, if a man's veet in his shoes
Wer a-burnen an' zore, why he coulden zit down
But the wheels would run over his tooes.
Vor 'tis meaeke money, Thomas, an' teaeke money,
What's zwold an' bought
Is all that is worthy o' thought.

Years agoo the leaene-zides did bear grass,
Vor to pull wi' the geeses' red bills,
That did hiss at the vo'k that did pass,
Or the bwoys that pick'd up their white quills.
But shortly, if vower or vive
Ov our goslens do creep vrom the agg,
They must mwope in the ge