“ What ails thee, my son Robin ?1
My heart is sore for thee ;2
Thi cheeks are grooin’ thinner,3
An’ th’ leet has laft thi e’e ;4
Theaw trails abeawt so lonesome,5
Aw’ looks so pale at morn,6
God bless tho, lad, aw’m sorry7
To see tho so forlorn !8
Thi fuutstep’s sadly awter’t—9
Aw used to know it weel—10
Neaw, arto fairy-strucken,11
Or arto gradely ill ?12
Or hasto bin wi’ th’ witches13
I’ th’ cloof,* at deep o’ th’ neet ?14
Come, tell mo, Robin, tell mo !15
For summat isn’t reet.”16
“ Neaw, mother, dunnut fret yo ;17
Aw am not like mysel’,18
But ’tisn’t lung o’ th’ feeorin’†19
That han to do wi’ th’ dule ;20
There’s nought at‡ thus could daunt mo21
I’ th’ cloof, by neet nor day—22
It’s yon blue een o’ Mary’s—23
They taen my life away !24
Aw deawt§ aw’ve done wi’ comfort25
To th’ day that aw mun dee,26
For th’ place hoo sets her fuut on,27
It’s fairy greawnd to me ;28
But oh ! it’s useless speykin’,29
Aw connut ston‖ her pride ;30
An’ when a true heart’s breykin’,31
It’s very hard to bide.”32
* Clough, or wooded dell.
† Because of sprites.
‡ That.
§ Doubt.
‖ Stand.
“ Neaw, God be wi’ tho, Robin !33
Just let her have her way ;34
Hoo’ll never meet thy marrow*35
For mony a summer day ;36
Aw’re† just same wi’ thi feyther37
When first he spoke to me ;38
So go thi ways an’ whistle,39
An’ th’ lass ’ll come to thee.”40
* Match.
† I was.