Poem by William Barnes

First Collection. Fall. Shrodon Feäir:— The rest o’t

An’ after that we met wi’ zome
O’ Mans’on vo’k, but jist a-come,
An’ had a raffle vor a treat
All roun’, o’ gingerbread to eat;
An’ Tom meäde leäst, wi’ all his sheäkes,
An’ paid the money vor the ceäkes,
But wer so lwoth to put it down
As if a penny wer a poun’.
Then up come zidelèn Sammy Heäre,
That’s fond o’ Poll, an’ she can’t bear,
A-holdèn out his girt scram vist,
An’ ax’d her, wi’ a grin an’ twist,
To have zome nuts; an’ she, to hide
Her laughèn, turn’d her head azide,
An’ answer’d that she’d rather not,
But Nancy mid. Am’ Nan, so hot
As vier, zaid ’twer quite enough
Vor Poll to answer vor herzuf:
She had a tongue, she zaid, an’ wit
Enough to use en, when ’twer fit.
An’ in the dusk, a-ridèn round
Drough Okford, who d’ye think we vound
But Sam ageän, a-gwäin vrom feäir
Astride his broken-winded meäre.
An’ zoo, a-hettèn her, he tried
To keep up clwose by ouer zide:
But when we come to Haÿward-brudge,
Our Poll gi’ed Dick a meänèn nudge,
An’ wi’ a little twitch our meäre
Flung out her lags so lights a heäre,
An’ left poor Sammy’s skin an’ bwones
Behind, a-kickèn o’ the stwones. 

1. Second Collection. The Linden on the Lawn
2. Second Collection. When Birds be Still
3. Third Collection. Went vrom Hwome
4. Third Collection. Changes
5. First Collection. Summer. Week’s End in Zummer, in the Wold Vo’k’s Time

Print

1301 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version