The Day Is Done

The day ban done, and darkness      Falling from vengs of night,     Lak fedder flying from ruster,      Ven he ban having fight.     Ay see the lights of willage      Shining tru rain and mist,     And ay skol feel dam sleepy,      Lak fallers playing whist.     Come, read tu me some werses,      Ay ant care vat yu read,     Yust so it ant 'bout trouble      Or hearts vich ache and bleed.     Ay lak dese har nice yingles      'Bout sun and trees and grass;     But, ven it com to heartache,      Yerusalem! ay skol pass!     Read from some humble geezer,      Whose songs ban sveet to hear -     Who making, from his poetry,      'Bout saxteen cents a year.     Ay lak to hear his yingles,      Ay tell yu, dey ban fine;     Dis har ban vy ay lak dem -      Dey ban so much lak mine.     Such songs have gude, nice sound -      Dey making sorrow fly;     Dey coming lak glass of seltzer      Vich follows drenk of rye.     And night skol be full of music,      And tengs we lak to forget     Skol fold op tents lak yipsies,      And sneaking avay, yu bet!