First Collection. Sundry Pieces. Uncle out o’ Debt an’ out o’ Danger
Ees; uncle had thik small hwomestead, The leäzes an’ the bits o’ mead, Besides the orcha’d in his prime, An’ copse-wood vor the winter time. His wold black meäre, that draw’d his cart, An’ he, wer seldom long apeärt; Vor he work’d hard an’ païd his woy, An’ zung so litsom as a bwoy, As he toss’d an’ work’d, An blow’d an’ quirk’d, “I’m out o’ debt an’ out o’ danger, An’ I can feäce a friend or stranger; I’ve a vist vor friends, an’ I’ll vind a peäir Vor the vu’st that do meddle wi’ me or my meäre. His meäre’s long vlexy vetlocks grow’d Down roun’ her hoofs so black an’ brode; Her head hung low, her taïl reach’d down A-bobbèn nearly to the groun’. The cwoat that uncle mwostly wore Wer long behind an’ straïght avore, An’ in his shoes he had girt buckles, An’ breeches button’d round his huckles; An’ he zung wi’ pride, By’s wold meäre’s zide, “I’m out o’ debt an’ out o’ danger, An’ I can feäce a friend or stranger; I’ve a vist vor friends, an’ I’ll vind a peäir Vor the vu’st that do meddle wi’ me or my meare.” An’ he would work,—an’ lwoad, an’ shoot, An’ spur his heaps o’ dung or zoot; Or car out haÿ, to sar his vew Milch cows in corners dry an’ lew; Or dreve a zyve, or work a pick, To pitch or meäke his little rick; Or thatch en up wi’ straw or zedge, Or stop a shard, or gap, in hedge; An’ he work’d an’ flung His eärms, an’ zung “I’m out o’ debt an’ out o’ danger, An’ I can feäce a friend or stranger; I’ve a vist vor friends, an’ I’ll vind a peäir Vor the vu’st that do meddle wi’ me or my meare.” An’ when his meäre an’ he’d a-done Their work, an’ tired ev’ry bwone, He zot avore the vire, to spend His evenèn wi’ his wife or friend; An’ wi’ his lags out-stratch’d vor rest, An’ woone hand in his wes’coat breast, While burnèn sticks did hiss an’ crack, An’ fleämes did bleäzy up the back, There he zung so proud In a bakky cloud, “I’m out o’ debt an’ out o’ danger, An’ I can feäce a friend or stranger; I’ve a vist vor friends, an’ I’ll vind a peäir Vor the vu’st that do meddle wi’ me or my meare.” From market how he used to ride, Wi’ pot’s a-bumpèn by his zide Wi’ things a-bought—but not vor trust, Vor what he had he païd vor vu’st; An’ when he trotted up the yard, The calves did bleäry to be sar’d, An’ pigs did scoat all drough the muck, An’ geese did hiss, an’ hens did cluck; An’ he zung aloud, So pleased an’ proud, “I’m out o’ debt an’ out o’ danger, An’ I can feäce a friend or stranger; I’ve a vist vor friends, an’ I’ll vind a peäir Vor the vu’st that do meddle wi’ me or my meare.” When he wer joggèn hwome woone night Vrom market, after candle-light, (He mid a-took a drop o’ beer, Or midden, vor he had noo fear,) Zome ugly, long-lagg’d, herrèn ribs, Jump’d out an’ ax’d en vor his dibs; But he soon gi’ed en such a mawlèn, That there he left en down a-sprawlèn, While he jogg’d along Wi’ his own wold zong, “I’m out o’ debt an’ out o’ danger, An’ I can feäce a friend or stranger; I’ve a vist vor friends, an’ I’ll vind a peäir Vor the vu’st that do meddle wi’ me or my meare.”
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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