Winter-Tired

I wus a settin' by my winder Lookin' out the other day, On the Airth all white with snowdrifts -- Look you ever which-a-way; An' while it all wus cleanly Like a soul that's washed from sin, I could not help a longin' Fur the robins an' the green. I am tired of all this sollum white, Bare boughs an' tongueless brook; The Airth is like a shrouded corpse No matter whur I look. O, I want to see the robins An' hear the bluebirds sing, An' in the pon' below the barn The bullfrog swear its Spring! I want to see white turn to brown, An' then the brown turn green, The hillsides put their mournin' off As fifty times I've seen. O, I want to hear that tongue-tied brook Go singin' on its way, Ashoutin' as it runs along: "The robins 've come to stay!"