I’m just in love with all these three, The Weald and the Marsh and the Down countree. Nor I don’t know which I love the most, The Weald or the Marsh or the white Chalk coast! I’ve buried my heart in a ferny hill, Twix’ a liddle low shaw an’ a great high gill. Oh hop-bine yaller an’ wood-smoke blue, I reckon you’ll keep her middling true! I’ve loosed my mind for to out and run On a Marsh that was old when Kings begun. Oh Romney Level and Brenzett reeds, I reckon you know what my mind needs! I’ve given my soul to the Southdown grass, And sheep-bells tinkled where you pass. Oh Firle an’ Ditchling an’ sails at sea, I reckon you keep my soul for me!