First Collection. Summer. Meäken up a Miff
Vorgi’e me, Jenny, do! an’ rise Thy hangèn head an’ teary eyes, An’ speak, vor I’ve a-took in lies, An’ I’ve a-done thee wrong; But I wer twold,—an’ thought ’twer true,— That Sammy down at Coome an’ you Wer at the feäir, a-walkèn drough The pleäce the whole day long. An’ tender thoughts did melt my heart, An’ zwells o’ viry pride did dart Lik’ lightnèn drough my blood; a-peärt Ov your love I should scorn, An’ zoo I vow’d, however sweet Your looks mid be when we did meet, I’d trample ye down under veet, Or let ye goo forlorn. But still thy neäme would always be The sweetest, an’ my eyes would zee Among all maïdens nwone lik’ thee Vor ever any mwore; Zoo by the walks that we’ve a-took By flow’ry hedge an’ zedgy brook, Dear Jenny, dry your eyes, an’ look As you’ve a-look’d avore. Look up, an’ let the evenèn light But sparkle in thy eyes so bright, As they be open to the light O’ zunzet in the west; An’ let’s stroll here vor half an hour, Where hangèn boughs do meäke a bow’r Above theäse bank, wi’ eltrot flow’r An’ robinhoods a-drest.
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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