Уильям Барнс (William Barnes)

First Collection. Winter. Keepèn up o’ Chris’mas

An’ zoo you didden come athirt,
To have zome fun last night: how wer’t?
Vor we’d a-work’d wi’ all our might
To scour the iron things up bright,
An’ brush’d an’ scrubb’d the house all drough;
An’ brought in vor a brand, a plock
O’ wood so big’s an uppèn-stock,
An’ hung a bough o’ misseltoo,
An’ ax’d a merry friend or two.
 To keepèn up o’ Chris’mas.

An’ there wer wold an’ young; an’ Bill,
Soon after dark, stalk’d up vrom mill.
An’ when he wer a-comèn near,
He whissled loud vor me to hear;
Then roun’ my head my frock I roll’d,
An’ stood in orcha’d like a post,
To meäke en think I wer a ghost.
But he wer up to’t, an’ did scwold
To vind me stannèn in the cwold,
 A keepèn up o’ Chris’mas.

We plaÿ’d at forfeits, an’ we spun
The trencher roun’, an’ meäde such fun!
An’ had a geäme o’ dree-ceärd loo,
An’ then begun to hunt the shoe.
An’ all the wold vo’k zittèn near,
A-chattèn roun’ the vier pleäce,
Did smile in woone another’s feäce,
An’ sheäke right hands wi’ hearty cheer,
An’ let their left hands spill their beer,
 A keepèn up o’ Chris’mas.

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