The early poems of John Clare 1804-1822: General editor Eric Robinson: Edited by Eric Robinson and David Powell: Associate editor Margaret Grainger |
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 | The early poems of John Clare |  |
BALLAD
[How do my dear kitty said snuffy nosd ben]
How do my dear kitty said snuffy nosd ben
& dropped him down on the stile very free
No better for snuffey thinks I to my sen
So ye neednt come croughing yer breeks agen me
He thumbd out his snuff box & snapt up the lid
& kitty said he will ye try if its good
—I only meant pinching his snuff if I did
Let snuffy nosd benny go think as he woud
& dropped him down on the stile very free
No better for snuffey thinks I to my sen
So ye neednt come croughing yer breeks agen me
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& kitty said he will ye try if its good
—I only meant pinching his snuff if I did
Let snuffy nosd benny go think as he woud
But he gun to brag bout his cows & his cottage
& smile i' my face his whole meaning to me
As how hed got bread ready crumbd for his pottage
& them that he married fine ladys shoud be
& as he ran on his red nose it kep' dropping
Then he out wi his snuff rag & quite sickend I
But lud on'y think of his cottage & cropping
What chances Id misst if Id let it slip bye
& smile i' my face his whole meaning to me
As how hed got bread ready crumbd for his pottage
& them that he married fine ladys shoud be
& as he ran on his red nose it kep' dropping
Then he out wi his snuff rag & quite sickend I
But lud on'y think of his cottage & cropping
What chances Id misst if Id let it slip bye
I know very well if Id had jack the thresher
I might as ben sed stick my mouth up & all
Tho I heartily likd him—theres but little pleasure
To starve in a hut wi bare shelves on the wall
Ben saw me half tempted & venturd to snudge me
His snuff flew about me a sight to be seen
Lud how coud I let such a nasty thing touch me
But golds a good snuff rag to keep his nose clean
I might as ben sed stick my mouth up & all
Tho I heartily likd him—theres but little pleasure
To starve in a hut wi bare shelves on the wall
Ben saw me half tempted & venturd to snudge me
His snuff flew about me a sight to be seen
Lud how coud I let such a nasty thing touch me
But golds a good snuff rag to keep his nose clean
| The early poems of John Clare | |