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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[O I sings the top name of all salleys] |
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 | The early poems of John Clare |  |
[O I sings the top name of all salleys]
O I sings the top name of all salleys
Theres none bears her image I vow
& hadnt she hid in our valleys
Shed sure bin a lady ere now
Theres no flower nigh home or in far land
So blooming a blossom can be
Shes the topknotting bunch of the garland
Nor wax work a'nt fairer then she
Theres none bears her image I vow
& hadnt she hid in our valleys
Shed sure bin a lady ere now
Theres no flower nigh home or in far land
So blooming a blossom can be
Shes the topknotting bunch of the garland
Nor wax work a'nt fairer then she
Paring snows to her skin they are dull to't
Shes an angels outside if not more
The rose near her cheek shines a fool to't
Sweet salleys the wench I adore
Her lips swell wi namless delight aye
Whoever beholds must be won
& paring dew drops to her bright eye
Is like blinking moons to the sun
Shes an angels outside if not more
The rose near her cheek shines a fool to't
Sweet salleys the wench I adore
405
Whoever beholds must be won
& paring dew drops to her bright eye
Is like blinking moons to the sun
& as Im a clown & a sinner
Her favour if I coud get in
& reach any scheme that woud win her
Id value not hardships a pin
& I call her names sweet as honey
My ducky my darling & dove
But maids now adays without money
Are not to be weedld by love
Her favour if I coud get in
& reach any scheme that woud win her
Id value not hardships a pin
& I call her names sweet as honey
My ducky my darling & dove
But maids now adays without money
Are not to be weedld by love
Toil I woud till Id gotten a bow-back
To earn all the gainings I coud
& turn I woud sweep or a shoe black
If that way Ill do ony good
The waxwork of wenches is salley
All conforts for her Id resign
For lifes but a brass fardings value
Wi out the sweet wench will be mine
To earn all the gainings I coud
& turn I woud sweep or a shoe black
If that way Ill do ony good
The waxwork of wenches is salley
All conforts for her Id resign
For lifes but a brass fardings value
Wi out the sweet wench will be mine
| The early poems of John Clare | |