Уильям Барнс (William Barnes)

First Collection. Winter. Zittèn out the Wold Year

Why, raïn or sheen, or blow or snow,
 I zaid, if I could stand so’s,
I’d come, vor all a friend or foe,
 To sheäke ye by the hand, so’s;
An’ spend, wi’ kinsvo’k near an’ dear,
A happy evenèn, woonce a year,
   A-zot wi’ me’th
   Avore the he’th
 To zee the new year in, so’s.

There’s Jim an’ Tom, a-grown the size
 O’ men, girt lusty chaps, so’s,
An’ Fanny wi’ her sloo-black eyes,
 Her mother’s very dap’s, so’s;
An’ little Bill, so brown’s a nut,
An’ Poll a gigglèn little slut.
   I hope will shoot
   Another voot
 The year that’s comèn in, so’s.

An’ there, upon his mother’s knee,
 So peärt do look about, so’s,
The little woone ov all, to zee
 His vu’st wold year goo out, so’s
An’ zoo mid God bless all o’s still,
Gwaïn up or down along the hill,
   To meet in glee
   Ageän to zee
 A happy new year in, so’s.

The wold clock’s han’ do softly steal
 Up roun’ the year’s last hour, so’s;
Zoo let the han’-bells ring a peal,
 Lik’ them a-hung in tow’r, so’s.
Here, here be two vor Tom, an’ two
Vor Fanny, an’ a peäir vor you;
   We’ll meäke em swing,
   An’ meäke em ring,
 The merry new year in, so’s.

Tom, mind your time there; you be wrong.
 Come, let your bells all sound, so’s:
A little clwoser, Poll; ding, dong!
 There, now ’tis right all round, so’s.
The clock’s a-strikèn twelve, d’ye hear?
Ting, ting, ding, dong! Farewell, wold year!
   ’Tis gone, ’tis gone!—
   Goo on, goo on,
 An’ ring the new woone in, so’s!

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