William Barnes (Уильям Барнс)

First Collection. Sundry Pieces. The Common a-took in

Oh! no, Poll, no! Since they’ve a-took
The common in, our lew wold nook
Don’t seem a-bit as used to look
 When we had runnèn room;
Girt banks do shut up ev’ry drong,
An’ stratch wi’ thorny backs along
Where we did use to run among
 The vuzzen an’ the broom.

Ees; while the ragged colts did crop
The nibbled grass, I used to hop
The emmet-buts, vrom top to top,
 So proud o’ my spry jumps:
Wi’ thee behind or at my zide,
A-skippèn on so light an’ wide
’S thy little frock would let thee stride,
 Among the vuzzy humps.

Ah while the lark up over head
Did twitter, I did search the red
Thick bunch o’ broom, or yollow bed
 O’ vuzzen vor a nest;
An’ thou di’st hunt about, to meet
Wi’ strawberries so red an’ sweet,
Or clogs or shoes off hosses veet,
 Or wild thyme vor thy breast;

Or when the cows did run about
A-stung, in zummer, by the stout,
Or when they plaÿ’d, or when they foüght,
 Di’st stand a-lookèn on:
An’ where white geese, wi’ long red bills,
Did veed among the emmet-hills,
There we did goo to vind their quills
 Alongzide o’ the pon’.

What fun there wer among us, when
The haÿward come, wi’ all his men,
To drève the common, an’ to pen
 Strange cattle in the pound;
The cows did bleäre, the men did shout
An’ toss their eärms an’ sticks about,
An’ vo’ks, to own their stock, come out
 Vrom all the housen round.

William Barnes’s other poems:

  1. First Collection. Winter. Keepèn up o’ Chris’mas
  2. Third Collection. Comen Hwome
  3. Second Collection. Slow to come, quick agone
  4. Second Collection. John Bleäke at Hwome
  5. Third Collection. Things do Come Round

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