First Collection. Fall. A-Haulèn o’ the Corn
Ah! yesterday, you know, we carr’d The piece o’ corn in Zidelèn Plot, An’ work’d about it pretty hard, An’ vound the weather pretty hot. ’Twer all a-tied an’ zet upright In tidy hile o’ Monday night; Zoo yesterday in afternoon We zet, in eärnest, ev’ry woone A-haulèn o’ the corn. The hosses, wi’ the het an’ lwoad, Did froth, an’ zwang vrom zide to zide, A-gwaïn along the dousty road, An’ seem’d as if they would a-died. An’ wi’ my collar all undone, An’ neck a-burnèn wi’ the zun, I got, wi’ work, an’ doust, an’ het, So dry at last, I coulden spet, A-haulèn o’ the corn. At uncle’s orcha’d, gwaïn along, I begged some apples, vor to quench My drith, o’ Poll that wer among The trees: but she, a saucy wench, Toss’d over hedge some crabs vor fun. I squaïl’d her, though, an’ meäde her run; An’ zoo she gie’d me, vor a treat, A lot o’ stubberds vor to eat. A-haulèn o’ the corn. An’ up at rick, Jeäne took the flagon, An’ gi’ed us out zome eäle; an’ then I carr’d her out upon the waggon, Wi’ bread an’ cheese to gi’e the men. An’ there, vor fun, we dress’d her head Wi’ noddèn poppies bright an’ red, As we wer catchèn vrom our laps, Below a woak, our bits an’ draps, A-haulèn o’ the corn.
William Barnes’s other poems:
- First Collection. Winter. Keepèn up o’ Chris’mas
- Third Collection. Comen Hwome
- Second Collection. Slow to come, quick agone
- Second Collection. John Bleäke at Hwome
- Third Collection. Things do Come Round
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