Haste not thine wisdom, for the hollow is ta'en - By whom, know I not; 'lack! am I of twain - And as a crux - cede I my words -
Fro my heart wilt thou ne'er
Have I been 'sooth sinsyne.
Be left without - come!
Thine voice is oh so sweet, I speer thine pine, Ryking for me: «List and heed», thou say'st Chancing to lure.
Ryking for thee; Wistful, whistful - Chancing to lure, Skirl and skreigh, but for thine ears, aye, lown 'tis - Dodge na 'way herefro, do come here in eath!
Mayhap luréd by the scent of lote - 'Od! - the fœtid - eft hie back I mote; For what I did my soul atrouncéd,
How I wish for thee again,
O! do believe me, 'twasn't a frounce.
Will I give thee it: Troth.
Thine voice is oh so sweet, I speer thine pine, Ryking for me: «List and heed», thou say'st Chancing to lure.
Ryking for thee; Wistful, whistful - Chancing to lure, Skirl and skreigh, but for thine ears, aye, lown 'tis - Dodge na 'way herefro, do come here in eath!