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:
- Third Collection. Comen Hwome
- Second Collection. Slow to come, quick agone
- Second Collection. John Bleäke at Hwome
- Third Collection. Things do Come Round
- Third Collection. I’m out o’ Door
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