Second Collection. Riddles
Anne an’ Joey a-ta’ken. A. A plague! theäse cow wont stand a bit, Noo sooner do she zee me zit Ageän her, than she’s in a trot, A-runnèn to zome other spot. J. Why ’tis the dog do sceäre the cow, He worried her a-vield benow. A. Goo in, Ah! Liplap, where’s your taïl! J. He’s off, then up athirt the raïl. Your cow there, Anne’s a-come to hand A goodish milcher. A. If she’d stand. But then she’ll steäre an’ start wi’ fright To zee a dumbledore in flight. Last week she het the païl a flought, An’ flung my meal o’ milk half out. J. Ha! Ha! But Anny, here, what lout Broke half your small païl’s bottom out? A. What lout indeed! What, do ye own The neäme? What dropp’d en on a stwone? J. Hee! Hee! Well now he’s out o’ trim Wi’ only half a bottom to en; Could you still vill en’ to the brim An’ yit not let the milk run drough en? A. Aye, as for nonsense, Joe, your head Do hold it all so tight’s a blather, But if ’tis any good, do shed It all so leäky as a lather. Could you vill païls ’ithout a bottom, Yourself that be so deeply skill’d? J. Well, ees, I could, if I’d a-got em Inside o’ bigger woones a-vill’d. A. La! that is zome’hat vor to hatch! Here answer me theäse little catch. Down under water an’ o’ top o’t I went, an’ didden touch a drop o’t, J. Not when at mowèn time I took An’ pull’d ye out o’ Longmeäd brook, Where you’d a-slidder’d down the edge An’ zunk knee-deep bezide the zedge, A-tryèn to reäke out a clote. A. Aye I do hear your chucklèn droat When I athirt the brudge did bring Zome water on my head vrom spring. Then under water an’ o’ top o’t, Wer I an’ didden touch a drop o’t. J. O Lauk! What thik wold riddle still, Why that’s as wold as Duncliffe Hill; “A two-lagg’d thing do run avore An’ run behind a man. An’ never run upon his lags Though on his lags do stan’. What’s that? I don’t think you do know. There idden sich a thing to show. Not know? Why yonder by the stall ’S a wheel-barrow bezide the wall, Don’t he stand on his lags so trim, An’ run on nothèn but his wheels wold rim. A. There’s horn vor Goodman’s eye-zight seäke; There’s horn vor Goodman’s mouth to teäke; There’s horn vor Goodman’s ears, as well As horn vor Goodman’s nose to smell— What horns be they, then? Do your hat Hold wit enough to tell us that? J. Oh! horns! but no, I’ll tell ye what, My cow is hornless, an’ she’s knot. A. Horn vor the mouth’s a hornèn cup. J. An’ eäle ’s good stuff to vill en up. A. An’ horn vor eyes is horn vor light, Vrom Goodman’s lantern after night; Horn vor the ears is woone to sound Vor hunters out wi’ ho’se an’ hound; But horn that vo’k do buy to smell o’ Is hart’s-horn. J. Is it? What d’ye tell o’ How proud we be, vor ben’t we smart? Aye, horn is horn, an’ hart is hart. Well here then, Anne, while we be at it, ’S a ball vor you if you can bat it. On dree-lags, two-lags, by the zide O’ vower-lags, woonce did zit wi’ pride, When vower-lags, that velt a prick, Vrom zix-lags, het two lags a kick. An’ two an’ dree-lags vell, all vive, Slap down, zome dead an’ zome alive. A. Teeh! heeh! what have ye now then, Joe, At last, to meäke a riddle o’? J. Your dree-lagg’d stool woone night did bear Up you a milkèn wi’ a peair; An’ there a zix-lagg’d stout did prick Your vow’r-lagg’d cow, an meäke her kick, A-hettèn, wi’ a pretty pat, Your stool an’ you so flat ’s a mat. You scrambled up a little dirty, But I do hope it didden hurt ye. A. You hope, indeed! a likely ceäse, Wi’ thik broad grin athirt your feäce. You saucy good-vor-nothèn chap, I’ll gi’e your grinnèn feäce a slap, Your drawlèn tongue can only run To turn a body into fun. J. Oh! I woont do ’t ageän. Oh dear! Till next time, Anny. Oh my ear! Oh! Anne, why you’ve a-het my hat ’Ithin the milk, now look at that. A. Do sar ye right, then, I don’t ceäre. I’ll thump your noddle,—there—there—there.
William Barnes’s other poems:
- Third Collection. Comen Hwome
- Second Collection. Slow to come, quick agone
- Third Collection. Things do Come Round
- Third Collection. I’m out o’ Door
- Second Collection. The Wife a-lost
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