Woone Smile Mwore

O! MARY, when the zun went down, Woone night in spring, w viry rim, Behind the nap wi woody crown, An left your smilen face so dim; Your little sister there, inside, Wi bellows on her little knee, Did blow the vire, a-glearen wide Drough window-panes, that I could zee,     As you did stan wi me, avore The house, a-parten, woone smile mwore. The chattren birds, a-risen high, An zinken low, did swiftly vlee Vrom shrinken moss, a-growen dry, Upon the lanen apple tree. An there the dog, a-whippen wide His hairy tail, an comen near, Did fondly lay agan you zide His coal-black nose an russet ear: To win what I d a-won avore, Vrom your gay; face, his woone smile mwore. An while your mother bustled sprack, A-getten supper out in hall, An cast her shade, a-whivren black Avore the vire, upon the wall; Your brother come, wi easy pace, In drough the slammen gate, along The path, wi healthy-bloomen face, A-whislen shrill his last new zong: An when he come avore the door, He met vrom you his woone smile mwore. Now you that wer the daughter there, Be mother on a husbands vloor, An mid ye meet wi less o care Than what your harty mother bore; An if abroad I have to rue The bitter tongue, or wrongvul deed, Mid I come hwome to share wi you What s needvul free o pinchen need: An vind that you ha still in store My evenen meal, an woone smile mwore.