Classic Poem

As downs wer all a-burnt to brown,
An' brooks a-dryen down to small,
An' sheep did lie, a-panken all,
Below the hawthorn on the down;
The while my meäre, wi' dippen head,
Pull'd on my cart above the bridge;
I vound a maid bezide the ridge,
All lily white in skin an' thread,
A-gwain, I thought, a mile or two
Along the road my trap did goo.

As there wi' comely steps up hill
She rose, by elems all in ranks,
Vrom sheäde to sheäde, by flow'ry banks
Wi' many a bird wi' whistlen bill,
I kindly zaid, " Now won't ye ride
This burnen weather up the knap?
I've here a seat to fit the trap,
A-swung athirt vrom zide to zide."
" O no," she cried, " wi' thanks to you.
It idden vur I have to goo."

Then, up the timber'd slope, I vound
The prettiest house a good day's ride
Would bring ye by, wi' pworch an' zide
By rwose an' jessamy a-bound.
Bezide en wer a spring an' pool,
An' green a-zunn'd, an' bower cool;
An' as the hatch vell to behind
Her steps, methought, if I would vind
A bride a-match'd by very vew,
I've little vurder now to goo.