William Barnes

The primrwose in the shade do blow, The cowslip in the zun, The thyme upon the down do grow,

Last Easter Jim put on his blue Frock cwoat, the vu'st time-vier new; Wi' yollow buttons all o' brass,

Now the light o' the west is a-turn'd to gloom, An' the men be at hwome vrom ground; An' the bells be a-zend'n all down the Coombe

Now the shiades o' the elems da stratch muore an muore, Vrom the low-zink'n zun in the west o' the sky; An' the m'idens da stan out in clusters avore

'Tis merry ov a zummer's day, When vo'k be out a-haul'n hay, Where boughs, a-spread upon the ground,

A. Back here, but now, the jobber John Come by, an' cried, "Well done, zing on,

We Do'set, though we mid be hwomely, Be'nt asheamed to own our pleace; An' we've zome women not uncomely;

I'd a dream to-night As I fell asleep, O! the touching sight

'Ithin the woodlands, flow'ry gleaded, By the woak tree's mossy moot, The sheenen grass-bleades, timber-sheaded,

Ov all the birds upon the wing Between the zunny showers o' spring, Vor all the lark, a-swingen high,

News o' grief had overteaken Dark-eyed Fanny, now vorseaken; There she zot, wi' breast a-heaven,

A happy day at Whitsuntide, As soon 's the zun begun to vall, We all stroll'd up the steep hill-zide

O aye! they had woone child bezide, An' a finer your eyes never met, Twer a dear little fellow that died

In the zunsheen of our zummers Wi' the hay time now a-come, How busy wer we out a-vield

The girt woak tree that's in the dell! There's noo tree I do love so well; Vor times an' times when I wer young,

Where the bridge out at Woodley did stride, Wi' his wide arches' cool she'ded bow, Up above the clear brook that did slide

And passing here through evening dew, He hastened happy to her door, But found the old folk only two

When wintry weather's all a-done, An' brooks do sparkle in the zun, An' naisy-builden rooks do vlee

As there I left the road in May, And took my way along a ground, I found a glade with girls at play,

Ah! sad wer we as we did peace the wold church road, wi' downcast feace, the while the bells, that mwoaned so deep

Since I noo mwore do zee your fe'ce, Up ste'rs or down below, I'll zit me in the lwonesome ple'ce,

We zot bezide the leafy wall, Upon the bench at evenfall, While aunt led off our minds wrom ceare

If souls should only sheen so bright In heaven as in e'thly light, An' nothen better wer the cease,

Green mwold on zummer bars do show That they've a-dripped in winter wet; The hoof-worn ring o' groun' below

When our downcast looks be smileless, Under others' wrongs an' slightens, When our daily deeds be guileless,

No, I'm a man, I'm vull a man, You beat my manhood, if you can. You'll be a man if you can teake

When sycamore leaves wer a-spreaden Green-ruddy in hedges, Bezide the red doust o' the ridges,

O! MARY, when the zun went down, Woone night in spring, w' viry rim, Behind the nap wi' woody crown,

When I led by zummer streams The pride o' Lea, as naighbours thought her, While the zun, wi' evenen beams,