NEWS o’ grief had overteäken

Dark-ey'd Fanny, now vorseäken;

There she zot, wi’ breast a-heavèn, sat

While vrom zide to zide, wi'grievèn,

Vell her head, wi’ tears a-creepèn

Down her cheäks, in bitter weepèn.

There wer still the ribbon-bow

She tied avore her hour ov woe,

An’ there wer still the han's that tied it

Hangèn white,

Or wringèn tight,

In ceäre that drown'd all ceäre bezide it.

When a man, wi'heartless slightèn,

Mid become a maïden's blightèn, may

He mid ceärlessly vorseäke her,

But must answer to her Meäker;

He mid slight, wi’ selfish blindness,

All her deeds o’ lovèn-kindness,

God wull waïgh em wi’ the slightèn

That mid be her love's requitèn;

He do look on each deceiver,

He do know

What weight o’ woe

Do breäk the heart ov ev'ry griever.