The Beaeten Path

The beaeten path where vo'k do meetA-comen on vrom vur an' near;How many errands had the veetThat wore en out along so clear!Where eegrass bleaedes be green in meaed,Where bennets up the leaeze be brown,An' where the timber bridge do leaedAthirt the cloty brook to town,Along the path by mile an' mile,Athirt the yield, an' brook, an' stile,

There runnen childern's hearty laughDo come an' vlee along--win' swift:The wold man's glossy-knobbed staffDo help his veet so hard to lift;The maid do bear her basket by,A-hangen at her breaethen zide;An' ceaereless young men, straight an' spry,Do whissle hwome at eventide,Along the path, a-reachen byBelow tall trees an' oben sky.

There woone do goo to jay a-head;Another's jay's behind his back.There woone his vu'st long mile do tread,An' woone the last ov all his track.An' woone mid end a hopevul road,Wi' hopeless grief a-teaeken on,As he that leaetely vrom abroadCome hwome to seek his love a-gone,Noo mwore to tread, wi' comely eaese,The beaeten path athirt the leaeze.

In tweilsome hardships, year by year,He drough the worold wander'd wide,Still bent, in mind, both vur an' nearTo come an' meaeke his love his bride.An' passen here drough evenen dewHe heaesten'd, happy, to her door,But vound the wold vo'k only two,Wi' noo mwore vootsteps on the vloor,To walk ageaen below the skies,Where beaeten paths do vall an' rise;

Vor she wer gone vrom e'thly eyesTo be a-kept in darksome sleep,Until the good ageaen do riseA-jay to souls they left to weep.The rwose wer doust that bound her brow;The moth did eat her Zunday ceaepe;Her frock wer out o' fashion now;Her shoes wer dried up out o' sheaepe--The shoes that woonce did glitter blackAlong the leaezes beaeten track.