William Barnes (Уильям Барнс)

First Collection. Winter. Keepèn up o’ Chris’mas

An’ zoo you didden come athirt,
To have zome fun last night: how wer’t?
Vor we’d a-work’d wi’ all our might
To scour the iron things up bright,
An’ brush’d an’ scrubb’d the house all drough;
An’ brought in vor a brand, a plock
O’ wood so big’s an uppèn-stock,
An’ hung a bough o’ misseltoo,
An’ ax’d a merry friend or two.
 To keepèn up o’ Chris’mas.

An’ there wer wold an’ young; an’ Bill,
Soon after dark, stalk’d up vrom mill.
An’ when he wer a-comèn near,
He whissled loud vor me to hear;
Then roun’ my head my frock I roll’d,
An’ stood in orcha’d like a post,
To meäke en think I wer a ghost.
But he wer up to’t, an’ did scwold
To vind me stannèn in the cwold,
 A keepèn up o’ Chris’mas.

We plaÿ’d at forfeits, an’ we spun
The trencher roun’, an’ meäde such fun!
An’ had a geäme o’ dree-ceärd loo,
An’ then begun to hunt the shoe.
An’ all the wold vo’k zittèn near,
A-chattèn roun’ the vier pleäce,
Did smile in woone another’s feäce,
An’ sheäke right hands wi’ hearty cheer,
An’ let their left hands spill their beer,
 A keepèn up o’ Chris’mas.

William Barnes’s other poems:

  1. Third Collection. Comen Hwome
  2. Second Collection. Slow to come, quick agone
  3. Second Collection. John Bleäke at Hwome
  4. Third Collection. Things do Come Round
  5. Third Collection. I’m out o’ Door

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