Third Collection. Turnèn things off
Upzides wi’ Polly! no, he’d vind That Poll would soon leäve him behind. To turn things off! oh! she’s too quick To be a-caught by ev’ry trick. Woone day our Jimmy stole down steäirs On merry Polly unaweäres, The while her nimble tongue did run A-tellèn, all alive wi’ fun, To sister Anne, how Simon Heäre Did hanker after her at feäir. “He left,” cried Polly, “cousin Jeäne, An’ kept wi’ us all down the leäne, An’ which way ever we did leäd He vollow’d over hill an’ meäd; An’ wi’ his head o’ shaggy heäir, An’ sleek brown cwoat that he do weäre, An’ collar that did reach so high ’S his two red ears, or perty nigh, He swung his taïl, wi’ steps o’ pride, Back right an’ left, vrom zide to zide, A-walkèn on, wi’ heavy strides A half behind, an’ half upzides.” “Who’s that?” cried Jimmy, all agog; An’ thought he had her now han’-pat, “That’s Simon Heäre,” but no, “Who’s that? Cried she at woonce, “Why Uncle’s dog, Wi’ what have you a-been misled I wonder. Tell me what I zaid.” Woone evenèn as she zot bezide The wall the ranglèn vine do hide, A-prattlèn on, as she did zend Her needle, at her vinger’s end. On drough the work she had in hand, Zome bran-new thing that she’d a-plann’d, Jim overheärd her talk ageän O’ Robin Hine, ov Ivy Leäne, “Oh! no, what he!” she cried in scorn, “I wouldèn gie a penny vor’n; The best ov him’s outzide in view; His cwoat is gaÿ enough, ’tis true, But then the wold vo’k didden bring En up to know a single thing, An’ as vor zingèn,—what do seem His zingèn’s nothèn but a scream.” “So ho!” cried Jim, “Who’s that, then, Meäry, That you be now a-talkèn o’?” He thought to catch her then, but, no, Cried Polly, “Oh! why Jeäne’s caneäry, Wi’ what have you a-been misled, I wonder. Tell me what I zaid.”
William Barnes’s other poems:
