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First Collection. Spring. Bringèn Woone Gwaïn o’ Zundays Ah! John! how I do love to look At theäse green hollor, an’ the brook Among the withies that do hide The stream, a-growèn at the zide; An’ at the road athirt the wide An’ shallow vword, where we young bwoys Did peärt, when we did goo half-woys, To bring ye gwaïn o’ Zundays. Vor after church, when we got hwome. In evenèn you did always come To spend a happy hour or two Wi’ us, or we did goo to you; An’ never let the comers goo Back hwome alwone, but always took A stroll down wi’ em to the brook To bring em gwain o’ Zundays. How we did scote all down the groun’, A-pushèn woone another down! Or challengèn o’ zides in jumps Down over bars, an’ vuzz, an’ humps; An’ peärt at last wi’ slaps an’ thumps, An’ run back up the hill to zee Who’d get hwome soonest, you or we. That brought ye gwain o’ Zundays. O’ leäter years, John, you’ve a-stood My friend, an’ I’ve a-done you good; But tidden, John, vor all that you Be now, that I do like ye zoo, But what you war vor years agoo: Zoo if you’d stir my heart-blood now. Tell how we used to plaÿ, an’ how You brought us gwaïn o’ Zundays. William Barnes's other poems:
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