First Collection. Summer. Jeäne’s Weddèn Day in Mornèn At last Jeäne come down stairs, a-drest Wi’ weddèn knots upon her breast, A-blushèn, while a tear did lie Upon her burnèn cheäk half dry; An’ then her Robert, drawèn nigh Wi’ tothers, took her han’ wi’ pride, To meäke her at the church his bride, Her weddèn day in mornèn. Wi’ litty voot an’ beätèn heart She stepp’d up in the new light cart, An’ took her bridemaïd up to ride Along wi’ Robert at her zide: An’ uncle’s meäre look’d roun’ wi’ pride To zee that, if the cart wer vull, ’Twer Jenny that he had to pull, Her weddèn day in mornèn. An’ aunt an’ uncle stood stock-still, An’ watch’d em trottèn down the hill; An’ when they turn’d off out o’ groun’ Down into leäne, two tears run down Aunt’s feäce; an’ uncle, turnèn roun’, Sigh’d woonce, an’ stump’d off wi’ his stick, Because did touch en to the quick To peärt wi’ Jeane thik mornèn. “Now Jeäne’s agone,” Tom mutter’d, “we Shall mwope lik’ owls ’ithin a tree; Vor she did zet us all agog Vor fun, avore the burnèn log.” An’ as he zot an’ talk’d, the dog Put up his nose athirt his thighs, But coulden meäke en turn his eyes, Jeäne’s weddèn day in mornèn. An’ then the naïghbours round us, all By woones an’ twos begun to call, To meet the young vo’k, when the meäre Mid bring em back a married peäir: An’ all o’m zaid, to Robert’s sheäre, There had a-vell the feärest feäce, An’ kindest heart in all the pleäce, Jeäne’s weddèn day in mornèn. |
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