Poem by William Barnes

Third Collection. The Humstrum

Why woonce, at Chris’mas-tide, avore
The wold year wer a-reckon’d out,
The humstrums here did come about,
A-soundèn up at ev’ry door.
But now a bow do never screäpe
 A humstrum, any where all round,
An’ zome can’t tell a humstrum’s sheäpe,
 An’ never heärd his jinglèn sound.
As ing-an-ing did ring the string,
As ang-an-ang the wires did clang.

The strings a-tighten’d lik’ to crack
Athirt the canister’s tin zide,
Did reach, a glitt’rèn, zide by zide,
Above the humstrum’s hollow back.
An’ there the bwoy, wi’ bended stick,
 A-strung wi’ heäir, to meäke a bow,
Did dreve his elbow, light’nèn quick,
 Athirt the strings from high to low.
As ing-an-ing did ring the string,
As ang-an-ang the wires did clang.

The mother there did stan’ an’ hush
Her child, to hear the jinglèn sound,
The merry maïd, a-scrubbèn round
Her white-steäv’d païl, did stop her brush.
The mis’ess there, vor wold time’s seäke,
 Had gifts to gi’e, and smiles to show,
An’ meäster, too, did stan’ an’ sheäke
 His two broad zides, a-chucklèn low,
While ing-an-ing did ring the string,
While ang-an-ang the wires did clang.

The players’ pockets wer a-strout,
Wi’ wold brown pence, a-rottlèn in,
Their zwangèn bags did soon begin,
Wi’ brocks an’ scraps, to plim well out.
The childern all did run an’ poke
 Their heads vrom hatch or door, an’ shout
A-runnèn back to wolder vo’k.
 Why, here! the humstrums be about!
As ing-an-ing did ring the string,
As ang-an-ang the wires did clang.

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

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