Classic Poem

Well, when my hunderd pound's a-come
To hand, a-left by uncle's will,
If my own refters here should rise
A-roof'd wi' thatch, bezide the hill,
To ceil my hut, I then should cut
The spears a-swaÿèen roun' the pool.

We children, hot at work, did build
Our hut vor childhood's plaÿè o' beds
O' zedge, a-wound wi' sticks, to screen
Vrom wind our little glossy heads;
An' there did zet, to shoot the wet,
Our roof o' spears about the pool.

When deep an' shoal did sleep below
A shell ov ice in winter tide,
We there, wi' tott'ren head, did drive
Our tooes along the grated slide,
Wi' many a sprawl, in many a vall,
Within the spears about the pool.

There men did draw the water out
So dry as all their pails could dip,
An' then did dab their hands about,
A deäb'd wi' mud vrom tooe to hip,
As they did veel the slipp'ry eel
Within the spears about the pool.

An' water show'd the light the moon
Did shed on stream, an' meäd, an' hill,
As there the nightengeäle did sound
Her note while other birds wer still,
A-zot aloft where russel'd soft
The spears a-swaÿèen roun' the pool.

An' still below the knap, a-lyen
Lew by elem-trees in ranks,
Do run the brook that up the dell
Do break an' come by winden banks
Down here, to us, a-sheenen wide,
A pool wi' spears about his zide.