THERE the ash-tree leaves do vall

In the wind a-blowèn cwolder,

An’ my childern, tall or small,

Since last Fall be woone year wolder. one, older

Woone year wolder, woone year dearer,

Till when they do leäve my he'th, hearth

I shall be noo mwore a hearer

O’ their vaïces or their me'th. mirth

There dead ash leaves be a-toss'd

In the wind, a-blowèn stronger,

An’ our life-time, since we lost

Souls we lov'd, is woone year longer.

Woone year longer, woone year wider,

Vrom the friends that death ha’ took,

As the hours do teäke the rider

Vrom the hand that last he shook.

No. If he do ride at night

Vrom the zide the zun went under,

Woone hour vrom his western light

Needen meäke woone hour asunder;

Woone hour onward, woone hour nigher

To the hopeful eastern skies,

Where his mornèn rim o vier fire

Soon ageän shall meet his eyes.

Leaves be now a-scatter'd round

In the wind, a-blowèn bleaker,

An’ if we do walk the ground

Wi’ our life-strangth woone year weaker.

Woone year weaker, woone year nigher

To the pleäce where we shall vind

Woone that's deathless vor the dier,

Voremost they that dropp'd behind.