Children’s Children
Oh!
if
my
ling'rèn
life
should
run,
Drough
years
a-reckoned
ten
by
ten,
Below
the
never-tirèn
zun,
Till
beäbes
ageän
be
wives
an'
men;
An'
stillest
deafness
should
ha'
bound
My
ears,
at
last,
vrom
ev'ry
sound;
Though
still
my
eyes
in
that
sweet
light,
Should
have
the
zight
o'
sky
an'
ground:
Would
then
my
steäte
In
time
so
leäte,
Be
jaÿ
or
païn,
be
païn
or
jaÿ?
When
Zunday
then,
a-weänèn
dim,
As
theäse
that
now's
a-clwosèn
still,
Mid
lose
the
zun's
down-zinkèn
rim,
In
light
behind
the
vier-bound
hill;
An'
when
the
bells'
last
peal's
a-rung,
An'
I
mid
zee
the
wold
an'
young
A-vlockèn
by,
but
shoulden
hear,
However
near,
a
voot
or
tongue:
Mid
zuch
a
zight,
In
that
soft
light
Be
jaÿ
or
païn,
be
païn
or
jaÿ.
If
I
should
zee
among
em
all,
In
merry
youth,
a-glidèn
by,
My
son's
bwold
son,
a-grown
man-tall,
Or
daughter's
daughter,
woman-high;
An'
she
mid
smile
wi'
your
good
feäce,
Or
she
mid
walk
your
comely
peäce,
But
seem,
although
a-chattèn
loud,
So
dumb's
a
cloud,
in
that
bright
pleäce:
Would
youth
so
feäir,
A-passèn
there,
Be
jaÿ
or
païn,
be
païn
or
jaÿ.
'Tis
seldom
strangth
or
comeliness
Do
leäve
us
long.
The
house
do
show
Men's
sons
wi'
mwore,
as
they
ha'
less,
An'
daughters
brisk,
vor
mothers
slow.
A
dawn
do
clear
the
night's
dim
sky,
Woone
star
do
zink,
an'
woone
goo
high,
An'
livèn
gifts
o'
youth
do
vall,
Vrom
girt
to
small,
but
never
die:
An'
should
I
view,
What
God
mid
do,
Wi'
jaÿ
or
païn,
wi'
païn
or
jaÿ?
