Third Collection. The Fancy Feäir at Maïden Newton
The Frome, wi’ ever-water’d brink, Do run where shelvèn hills do zink Wi’ housen all a-cluster’d roun’ The parish tow’rs below the down. An’ now, vor woonce, at leäst, ov all The pleäcen where the stream do vall, There’s woone that zome to-day mid vind, Wi’ things a-suited to their mind. An’ that’s out where the Fancy Feäir Is on at Maïden Newton. An’ vo’k, a-smarten’d up, wull hop Out here, as ev’ry traïn do stop, Vrom up the line, a longish ride, An’ down along the river-zide. An’ zome do beät, wi’ heels an’ tooes, The leänes an’ paths, in nimble shoes, An’ bring, bezides, a biggish knot, Ov all their childern that can trot, A-vlockèn where the Fancy Feäir Is here at Maïden Newton. If you should goo, to-day, avore A Chilfrome house or Downfrome door, Or Frampton’s park-zide row, or look Drough quiet Wraxall’s slopy nook, Or elbow-streeted Catt’stock, down By Castlehill’s cwold-winded crown, An’ zee if vo’k be all at hwome, You’d vind em out—they be a-come Out hither, where the Fancy Feäir Is on at Maïden Newton. Come, young men, come, an’ here you’ll vind A gift to please a maïden’s mind; Come, husbands, here be gifts to please Your wives, an’ meäke em smile vor days; Come, so’s, an’ buy at Fancy Feäir A keepseäke vor your friends elsewhere; You can’t but stop an’ spend a cwein Wi’ leädies that ha’ goods so fine; An’ all to meäke, vor childern’s seäke, The School at Maïden Newton.
William Barnes’s other poems:
