Àíãëèéñêàÿ ïîýçèÿ


Ãëàâíàÿ • Áèîãðàôèè • Ñòèõè ïî òåìàì • Ñëó÷àéíîå ñòèõîòâîðåíèå • Ïåðåâîä÷èêè • Ññûëêè • Àíòîëîãèè
Ðåéòèíã ïîýòîâ • Ðåéòèíã ñòèõîòâîðåíèé

William Barnes (Óèëüÿì Áàðíñ)


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. 



William Barnes's other poems:
  1. First Collection. Sundry Pieces. The Common a-took in
  2. Second Collection. The Wold vo’k Dead
  3. Third Collection. The New House a-gettèn Wold
  4. Third Collection. Went vrom Hwome
  5. Second Collection. Our Be’thplace


Ðàñïå÷àòàòü ñòèõîòâîðåíèå. Poem to print Ðàñïå÷àòàòü (To print)

Êîëè÷åñòâî îáðàùåíèé ê ñòèõîòâîðåíèþ: 1820


Ïîñëåäíèå ñòèõîòâîðåíèÿ


To English version



Àíãëèéñêàÿ ïîýçèÿ