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:
- 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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