Third Collection. What John wer a-tellèn
WHAT JOHN WER A-TELLÈN HIS MIS’ESS OUT IN THE CORN GROUND. Ah! mam! you woonce come here the while The zun, long years agoo, did shed His het upon the wheat in hile, Wi’ yollow hau’m an’ ears o’ red, Wi’ little shoes too thin vor walks Upon the scratchèn stubble-stalks; You hardly reach’d wi’ glossy head, The vore wheel’s top o’ dousty red. How time’s a-vled! How years do vlee! An’ there you went an’ zot inzide A hile, in aïr a-streamèn cool, As if ’ithin a room, vull wide An’ high, you zot to guide an’ rule. You leäz’d about the stubbly land. An’ soon vill’d up your small left hand Wi’ ruddy ears your right hand vound, An’ traïl’d the stalks along the ground. How time’s a-gone! How years do goo! Then in the waggon you did teäke A ride, an’ as the wheels vell down Vrom ridge to vurrow, they did sheäke On your small head your poppy crown, An’ now your little maïd, a dear, Your childhood’s very daps, is here, Zoo let her staÿ, that her young feäce Mid put a former year in pleäce. How time do run! How years do roll.
William Barnes’s other poems:
