We Do'set, though we mid be hwomely, Be'nt asheamed to own our pleace; An' we've zome women not uncomely; Nor asheamed to show their feace; We've a mead or two wo'th mowen,...
'Ithin the woodlands, flow'ry gleaded, By the woak tree's mossy moot, The sheenen grass-bleades, timber-sheaded, Now do quiver under voot; An' birds do whissle over head, An' water's bubblen in its bed,...