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Ãëàâíàÿ • Áèîãðàôèè • Ñòèõè ïî òåìàì • Ñëó÷àéíîå ñòèõîòâîðåíèå • Ïåðåâîä÷èêè • Ññûëêè • Àíòîëîãèè Ðåéòèíã ïîýòîâ • Ðåéòèíã ñòèõîòâîðåíèé |
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First Collection. Fall. Shrodon Feäir:— The vu’st Peärt An’ zoo’s the day wer warm an’ bright, An’ nar a cloud wer up in zight, We wheedled father vor the meäre An’ cart, to goo to Shrodon feäir. An’ Poll an’ Nan run off up stairs, To shift their things, as wild as heäres; An’ pull’d out, each o’m vrom her box, Their snow-white leäce an’ newest frocks, An’ put their bonnets on, a-lined Wi’ blue, an’ sashes tied behind; An’ turn’d avore the glass their feäce An’ back, to zee their things in pleäce; While Dick an’ I did brush our hats An’ cwoats, an’ cleän ourzelves lik’ cats. At woone or two o’clock, we vound Ourzelves at Shrodon seäfe an’ sound, A-struttèn in among the rows O’ tilted stannèns an’ o’ shows, An’ girt long booths wi’ little bars Chock-vull o’ barrels, mugs, an’ jars, An’ meat a-cookèn out avore The vier at the upper door; Where zellers bwold to buyers shy Did hollow round us, “What d’ye buy?” An’ scores o’ merry tongues did speak At woonce, an’ childern’s pipes did squeak, An’ horns did blow, an’ drums did rumble, An’ bawlèn merrymen did tumble; An’ woone did all but want an edge To peärt the crowd wi’, lik’ a wedge. We zaw the dancers in a show Dance up an’ down, an’ to an’ fro, Upon a rwope, wi’ chalky zoles, So light as magpies up on poles; An’ tumblers, wi’ their streaks an’ spots, That all but tied theirzelves in knots. An’ then a conjurer burn’d off Poll’s han’kerchief so black’s a snoff, An’ het en, wi’ a single blow, Right back ageän so white as snow. An’ after that, he fried a fat Girt ceäke inzide o’ my new hat; An’ yet, vor all he did en brown, He didden even zweal the crown. William Barnes's other poems:
Ðàñïå÷àòàòü (Print) Êîëè÷åñòâî îáðàùåíèé ê ñòèõîòâîðåíèþ: 1254 |
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