Mary Mecca

Mary Mecca,(1) Mary Mecca,          I'm fain to see thee here,     A Devon lass to fill my glass          O' home-brewed Yorkshire beer.     I awlus said that foreigners          Sud niver mel on me;     But sike a viewly face as thine          I'd travel far to see.     Mary Mecca, Mary Mecca,          I'm sad to see thee here,     Wheer t' wind blaws hask(2) frae Norway          I' t' spring-time o' the year.     I'd liever finnd thee sittin',          Wi' a bowl o' cruds an' cream,     Wheer t' foxglove bells ring through the dells,          Anent a Dartmoor stream.     Mary Mecca, Mary Mecca,          The way thou snods thy hair,     It maks my heart go dancin'          Like winnlestraws(3) i' t' air.     One neet I heard thee singin',          As I cam home frae toon;     'Twas sweet as curlews makkin' love          Agean a risin' moon.     Mary Mecca, Mary Mecca,          I dream o' thy gray een;     I think on all I've wasted,          An' what I might hae been.     I'm nowt but muck off t' midden,          So all I axe is this:     Just blaw the froth from off my yal(4);          'Twill seem most like a kiss.