WHEN hillborne Paladore did show

So bright to me down miles below,

As woonce the zun, a-rollèn west, once

Did brighten up his hill's high breast, its

Wi’ walls a-lookèn dazzlèn white,

Or yollow, on the grey-topp'd height

Of Paladore, as peäle day wore

Awaÿ so feäir,

Oh! how I wish'd that I wer there.

The pleäce wer too vur off to spy far

The livèn vo'k a-passèn by; folk

The vo'k too vur vor aïr to bring

The words that they did speak or zing.

All dum’ to me wer each abode,

An’ empty wer the down-hill road

Vrom Paladore, as peäle day wore

Awaÿ so feäir;

But how I wish'd that I wer there.

But when I clomb the lofty ground climbed

Where livèn veet an’ tongues did sound,

At feäir, bezide your bloomèn feäce,

The pertiest in all the pleäce,

As you did look, wi’ eyes as blue

As yonder southern hills in view,

Vrom Paladore—O Polly dear,

Wi’ you up there,

How merry then wer I at feäir.

Since vu'st I trod thik steep hill-zide first, that

My grievèn soul 'v a-been a-tried

Wi’ païn, an’ loss o’ worldly geär,

An’ souls a-gone I wanted near;

But you be here to goo up still,

An’ look to Blackmwore vrom the hill

O’ Paladore. Zoo, Polly dear, so

We'll goo up there,

An’ spend an hour or two at feäir.

The wold brown meäre's a-brought vrom grass, old

An’ rubb'd an’ cwomb'd so bright as glass;

An’ now we'll hitch her in, an’ start

To feäir upon the new green cart,

An’ teäke our little Poll between

Our zides, as proud's a little queen,

To Paladore. Aye, Poll a dear,

Vor now 'tis feäir,

An’ she's a-longèn to goo there.

While Paladore, on watch, do straïn

Her eyes to Blackmwore's blue-hill'd plaïn,

While Duncliffe is the traveller's mark,

Or cloty Stour's a-rollèn dark; yellow water-lilied

Or while our bells do call, vor greäce,

The vo'k avore their Seävior's feäce, folk

Mid Paladore, an’ Poll a dear, may

Vor ever know

O’ peäce an’ plenty down below.