Last week, when we’d a haul’d the crops,
We went a-nuttèn out in copse,
Wi’ nuttèn-bags to bring hwome vull,
An’ beaky nuttèn-crooks to pull
The bushes down; an’ all o’s wore
Wold clothes that wer in rags avore,
An’ look’d, as we did skip an’ zing,
Lik’ merry gipsies in a string,
A-gwaïn a-nuttèn.
Zoo drough the stubble, over rudge
An’ vurrow, we begun to trudge;
An’ Sal an’ Nan agreed to pick
Along wi’ me, an’ Poll wi’ Dick;
An’ they went where the wold wood, high
An’ thick, did meet an’ hide the sky;
But we thought we mid vind zome good
Ripe nuts among the shorter wood,
The best vor nuttèn.
We voun’ zome bushes that did feäce
The downcast zunlight’s highest pleäce,
Where clusters hung so ripe an’ brown,
That some slipp’d shell an’ vell to groun’.
But Sal wi’ me zoo hitch’d her lag
In brembles, that she coulden wag;
While Poll kept clwose to Dick, an’ stole
The nuts vrom’s hinder pocket-hole,
While he did nutty.
An’ Nanny thought she zaw a sneäke,
An’ jump’d off into zome girt breäke,
An’ tore the bag where she’d a-put
Her sheäre, an’ shatter’d ev’ry nut.
An’ out in vield we all zot roun’
A white-stemm’d woak upon the groun’,
Where yollor evenèn light did strik’
Drough yollow leaves, that still wer thick
In time o’ nuttèn,
An’ twold ov all the luck we had
Among the bushes, good an’ bad!
Till all the maïdens left the bwoys,
An’ skipp’d about the leäze all woys
Vor musherooms, to car back zome,
A treat vor father in at hwome.
Zoo off we trudg’d wi’ clothes in slents
An’ libbets, jis’ lik’ Jack-o’-lents,
Vrom copse a-nuttèn.
—————
The End
And that’s the End of the Poem
© Poetry Monster, 2021.
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