Уильям Барнс (William Barnes)

First Collection. Sundry Pieces. Jeäne o’ Grenley Mill

When in happy times we met,
 Then by look an’ deed I show’d,
How my love wer all a-zet
 In the smiles that she bestow’d.
She mid have, o’ left an’ right,
Maïdens feäirest to the zight;
I’d a-chose among em still,
Pretty Jeäne o’ Grenley Mill.

She wer feäirer, by her cows
 In her work-day frock a-drest,
Than the rest wi’ scornvul brows
 All a-flantèn in their best.
Gaÿ did seem, at feäst or feäir,
Zights that I had her to sheäre;
Gaÿ would be my own heart still,
But vor Jeäne o’ Grenley Mill.

Jeäne—a-checkèn ov her love—
 Leän’d to woone that, as she guess’d,
Stood in worldly wealth above
 Me she know’d she lik’d the best.
He wer wild, an’ soon run drough
All that he’d a-come into,
Heartlessly a-treatèn ill
Pretty Jeäne o’ Grenley Mill.

Oh! poor Jenny! thou’st a-tore
 Hopèn love vrom my poor heart,
Losèn vrom thy own small store,
 All the better, sweeter peärt.
Hearts a-slighted must vorseäke
Slighters, though a-doom’d to break;
I must scorn, but love thee still,
Pretty Jeäne o’ Grenley Mill.

Oh! if ever thy soft eyes
 Could ha’ turn’d vrom outward show,
To a lover born to rise
 When a higher woone wer low;
If thy love, when zoo a-tried,
Could ha’ stood ageän thy pride,
How should I ha’ lov’d thee still,
Pretty Jeäne o’ Grenley Mill.

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