Classic Poem

There lovely Jenny past,
While the blast did blow
On over Ashknowle Hill
To the mill below;
A-blinken quick, wi' lashes long,
Above her cheäks o' red,
Ageän the wind, a-beäten strong,
Upon her droopen head.

Oh! let dry win' blow bleäk,
On her cheäk so heäle,
But let noo rain-shot chill
Meäke her ill an' peäle;
Vor healthy is the breath the blast
Upon the hill do yield,
An' healthy is the light a cast
Vrom lofty sky to vield.

An' mid noo sorrow-pang
Ever hang a tear
Upon the dark lash-heäir
Ov my feäirest dear;
An' mid noo unkind deed o' mine
Spweil what my love mid gain,
Nor meäke my merry Jenny pine
At last wi' dim-ey'd pain.