Third Collection. The Echo
About the tow’r an’ churchyard wall, Out nearly overright our door, A tongue ov wind did always call Whatever we did call avore. The vaïce did mock our neämes, our cheers, Our merry laughs, our hands’ loud claps, An’ mother’s call “Come, come, my dears” —my dears; Or “Do as I do bid, bad chaps” —bad chaps. An’ when o’ Zundays on the green, In frocks an’ cwoats as gaÿ as new, We walk’d wi’ shoes a-meäde to sheen So black an’ bright’s a vull-ripe slooe We then did hear the tongue ov aïr A-mockèn mother’s vaïce so thin, “Come, now the bell do goo vor praÿ’r” —vor pray’r; “ ’Tis time to goo to church; come in” —come in. The night when little Anne, that died, Begun to zickèn, back in Maÿ, An’ she, at dusk ov evenèn-tide, Wer out wi’ others at their plaÿ, Within the churchyard that do keep Her little bed, the vaïce o’ thin Dark aïr, mock’d mother’s call “To sleep” —to sleep; “ ’Tis bed time now, my love, come in” —come in. An’ when our Jeäne come out so smart A-married, an’ we help’d her in To Henry’s newly-païnted cart, The while the wheels begun to spin, An’ her gaÿ nods, vor all she smil’d, Did sheäke a tear-drop vrom each eye, The vaïce mock’d mother’s call, “Dear child” —dear child; “God bless ye evermwore; good bye” —good bye.
William Barnes’s other poems:
