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Third Collection. Vull a Man No, I’m a man, I’m vull a man, You beät my manhood, if you can. You’ll be a man if you can teäke All steätes that household life do meäke. The love-toss’d child, a-croodlèn loud, The bwoy a-screamèn wild in plaÿ, The tall grown youth a-steppèn proud, The father staïd, the house’s staÿ. No; I can boast if others can, I’m vull a man. A young-cheäk’d mother’s tears mid vall, When woone a-lost, not half man-tall, Vrom little hand, a-called vrom plaÿ, Do leäve noo tool, but drop a taÿ, An’ die avore he’s father-free To sheäpe his life by his own plan; An’ vull an angel he shall be, But here on e’th not vull a man, No; I could boast if others can, I’m vull a man. I woonce, a child, war father-fed, An’ I’ve avound my childern bread; My eärm, a sister’s trusty crook, Is now a faïthvul wife’s own hook; An’ I’ve a-gone where vo’k did zend, An’ gone upon my own free mind, An’ of’en at my own wits’ end. A-led o’ God while I wer blind. No; I could boast if others can I’m vull a man. An’ still, ov all my tweil ha’ won, My lovèn maïd an’ merry son, Though each in turn’s a jaÿ an’ ceäre, ’Ve a-had, an’ still shall have, their sheäre; An’ then, if God should bless their lives, Why I mid zend vrom son to son My life, right on drough men an’ wives, As long, good now, as time do run. No; I could boast if others can, I’m vull a man. William Barnes's other poems:
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