The coming of love Rhona Boswell's story and other poems: By Theodore Watts-Dunton |
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| III. | III RHONA'S LOVE LETTER AFTER PERCY'S FIRST STAY IN GYPSY DELL |
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 | The coming of love |  |
III
RHONA'S LOVE LETTER AFTER PERCY'S FIRST STAY IN GYPSY DELL
Gypsy Dell, Wensdy.
This ere comes hoppen, leaven me the same,
And lykwise all our breed in Gypsy Dell,
Barrin the spotted gry, wot's turned up lame;
A crick have made his orfside fetlock swell.
The Scollard's larnen me to rite and spel,
It's 'ard, but then I longed to rite your name:
Them squrruls in the Dell have grow'd that tame!
How sweet the haycocks smel!
And lykwise all our breed in Gypsy Dell,
Barrin the spotted gry, wot's turned up lame;
A crick have made his orfside fetlock swell.
The Scollard's larnen me to rite and spel,
It's 'ard, but then I longed to rite your name:
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How sweet the haycocks smel!
Dordi!
how I should like you just to see
The Scollard when he's larnen me to rite,
A buzzin like a chafer or a bee,
Else cussen you wi' bloodshot yockers bright
And moey girnin, danniers gleamin white.
He's wuss nor ever follerin arter me,
Peepin roun' every bush an every tree
Mornin and noon and night.
The Scollard when he's larnen me to rite,
A buzzin like a chafer or a bee,
Else cussen you wi' bloodshot yockers bright
And moey girnin, danniers gleamin white.
He's wuss nor ever follerin arter me,
Peepin roun' every bush an every tree
Mornin and noon and night.
When I wur standin by the river's brim,
Hearin the chirikels in Rington wood,
And seein the moorhens larn their chicks to swim,
Thinks I, “I hears the Scollard's heavy thud”;
And when I turned, behold ye, there he stood!
He says I promised as I'd marry him,
And if I di'n't he'd tear me limb from limb.
Sez I, “That's if you could.”
Hearin the chirikels in Rington wood,
And seein the moorhens larn their chicks to swim,
Thinks I, “I hears the Scollard's heavy thud”;
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He says I promised as I'd marry him,
And if I di'n't he'd tear me limb from limb.
Sez I, “That's if you could.”
But when I thinks o' you, a choon aglall
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Dray mendys tan a-studyin Romany—
Nock, danniers, moey, yockers, canners, bal —
It make me sometime larf and sometime cry;
And that make Granny's crinkles crinkle sly;
“Dabla! ” my daddy says, “de blesséd gal
Shall lel herself a tarnow Rye she shall—
A tarnow Romany Rye.”
Dray mendys tan a-studyin Romany—
Nock, danniers, moey, yockers, canners, bal —
It make me sometime larf and sometime cry;
And that make Granny's crinkles crinkle sly;
“Dabla! ” my daddy says, “de blesséd gal
Shall lel herself a tarnow Rye she shall—
A tarnow Romany Rye.”
I lets em larf, but well I knows—too well—
The ondly tarnow Rye, and ondly man,
That in my dreams I sometime seem to lel
Ain't for the lyks o' mee in this 'ere tan,
The Rye wot sat by mee where Dell-brook ran,
And larnt my Romany words and used to tell
Sich sweet, strange things all day, till shadders fell
And light o' stars began.
The ondly tarnow Rye, and ondly man,
That in my dreams I sometime seem to lel
Ain't for the lyks o' mee in this 'ere tan,
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And larnt my Romany words and used to tell
Sich sweet, strange things all day, till shadders fell
And light o' stars began.
Mose nights I lays awake, but when the cock
Begin to crow and rooks begin to fly
And chimes come livelier out o' Rington clock,
It's then I sees your pictur in the sky
(So plane, it seems to bring the mornin' nigh),
Bal, danniers, canners, yockers, moey, nock:
My daddy's bort me sich a nicet new frock.
Your comly korly chy.
Begin to crow and rooks begin to fly
And chimes come livelier out o' Rington clock,
It's then I sees your pictur in the sky
(So plane, it seems to bring the mornin' nigh),
Bal, danniers, canners, yockers, moey, nock:
My daddy's bort me sich a nicet new frock.
Your comly korly chy.
| The coming of love | |