First Collection. Summer. Havèn Woones Fortune a-twold
In leäne the gipsies, as we went A-milkèn, had a-pitch’d their tent, Between the gravel-pit an’ clump O’ trees, upon the little hump: An’ while upon the grassy groun’ Their smokèn vire did crack an’ bleäze, Their shaggy-cwoated hoss did greäze Among the bushes vurder down. An’ zoo, when we brought back our païls, The woman met us at the raïls, An’ zaid she’d tell us, if we’d show Our han’s, what we should like to know. Zoo Poll zaid she’d a mind to try Her skill a bit, if I would vu’st; Though, to be sure, she didden trust To gipsies any mwore than I. Well; I agreed, an’ off all dree O’s went behind an elem tree, An’ after she’d a-zeed ’ithin My han’ the wrinkles o’ the skin, She twold me—an’ she must a-know’d That Dicky met me in the leäne,— That I’d a-walk’d, an’ should ageän, Wi’ zomebody along thik road. An’ then she twold me to bewar O’ what the letter M stood vor. An’ as I walk’d, o’ Monday night, Drough Meäd wi’ Dicky overright The Mill, the Miller, at the stile, Did stan’ an’ watch us teäke our stroll, An’ then, a blabbèn dousty-poll! Twold Mother o’t. Well wo’th his while! An’ Poll too wer a-bid bewar O’ what the letter F stood vor; An’ then, because she took, at Feäir, A bosom-pin o’ Jimmy Heäre, Young Franky beät en black an’ blue. ’Tis F vor Feäir; an’ ’twer about A Fearèn Frank an’ Jimmy foüght, Zoo I do think she twold us true. In short, she twold us all about What had a-vell, or would vall out; An’ whether we should spend our lives As maïdens, or as wedded wives; But when we went to bundle on, The gipsies’ dog were at the raïls A-lappèn milk vrom ouer païls,— A pretty deäl o’ Poll’s wer gone.
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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