Уильям Барнс (William Barnes)

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.

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