First Collection. Sundry Pieces. A Zong
O Jenny, don’t sobby! vor I shall be true; Noo might under heaven shall peärt me vrom you. My heart will be cwold, Jenny, when I do slight The zwell o’ thy bosom, thy eyes’ sparklèn light. My kinsvo’k would faïn zee me teäke vor my meäte A maïd that ha’ wealth, but a maïd I should heäte; But I’d sooner leäbour wi’ thee vor my bride, Than live lik’ a squier wi’ any bezide. Vor all busy kinsvo’k, my love will be still A-zet upon thee lik’ the vir in the hill; An’ though they mid worry, an’ dreaten, an’ mock, My head’s in the storm, but my root’s in the rock. Zoo, Jenny, don’t sobby! vor I shall be true; Noo might under heaven shall peärt me vrom you. My heart will be cwold, Jenny, when I do slight The zwell o’ thy bosom, thy eyes’ sparklèn light.
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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