Уильям Барнс (William Barnes)

Third Collection. The Wind in the Woone’s Feäce

There lovely Jenny past,
 While the blast did blow
On over Ashknowle Hill
 To the mill below;
A-blinkèn quick, wi’ lashes long,
 Above her cheäks o’ red,
Ageän the wind, a-beätèn strong,
 Upon her droopèn head.

Oh! let dry win’ blow bleäk,
 On her cheäk so heäle,
But let noo raïn-shot chill
 Meäke her ill an’ peäle;
Vor healthy is the breath the blast
 Upon the hill do yield,
An’ healthy is the light a cast
 Vrom lofty sky to vield.

An’ mid noo sorrow-pang
 Ever hang a tear
Upon the dark lash-heäir
 Ov my feäirest dear;
An’ mid noo unkind deed o’ mine
 Spweil what my love mid gaïn,
Nor meäke my merry Jenny pine
 At last wi’ dim-ey’d païn.

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