Songs of the Cavaliers and Roundheads Jacobite Ballads, &c. &c. By George W. Thornbury ... with illustrations by H. S. Marks |
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AUTUMN JINGLES. |
 | Songs of the Cavaliers and Roundheads |  |
195
AUTUMN JINGLES.
See the morning dew is dripping,
And the gold skin of the pippin
Shines like metal through the dripping
Of the autumn's crystal dew.
Now the robin's breast grows brighter,
As the apple bough grows lighter,—
Autumn red leaf glowed the brighter,
When the swallow eastward flew.
And the gold skin of the pippin
Shines like metal through the dripping
Of the autumn's crystal dew.
Now the robin's breast grows brighter,
As the apple bough grows lighter,—
Autumn red leaf glowed the brighter,
When the swallow eastward flew.
Every hedge is gemmed with berries,
Rosy red as summer cherries;
Nests of rubies, piles of berries;
What a treasure to the boy!
Now the bramble's quite a study,
With its fruit, half black, half ruddy—
Really, really, quite a study
To the cowherd, food and joy.
Rosy red as summer cherries;
Nests of rubies, piles of berries;
What a treasure to the boy!
Now the bramble's quite a study,
With its fruit, half black, half ruddy—
Really, really, quite a study
To the cowherd, food and joy.
196
Now the yellow pear is swaying
On the fading tree that's weighing
Down with all that ceaseless swaying
Of the fruit so rich and sweet.
Every faded vine-leaf dapples,
With a blood-stain, like the apple's,
Green, yet blushing where it dapples;
Falling, bursting at our feet.
On the fading tree that's weighing
Down with all that ceaseless swaying
Of the fruit so rich and sweet.
Every faded vine-leaf dapples,
With a blood-stain, like the apple's,
Green, yet blushing where it dapples;
Falling, bursting at our feet.
Every gust the walnuts rattle,
All the boughs go tittle-tattle,
When the dry shells fall and rattle,
And the leaf comes whirling down.
Golden-globed, the rich plums cover
All the wall; and many a lover
Flocks around that luscious cover,
When the leaves turn crimson brown.
All the boughs go tittle-tattle,
When the dry shells fall and rattle,
And the leaf comes whirling down.
Golden-globed, the rich plums cover
All the wall; and many a lover
Flocks around that luscious cover,
When the leaves turn crimson brown.
How the brown nuts drop in plenty;
Every shake will bring down twenty;
Husks are splitting; there are plenty
For the squirrel and the mouse.
Now the spider, swift and busy,
Netting dead boughs—tell me, is he
Not by far the one most busy,
Spinneth in the garden-house?
Every shake will bring down twenty;
Husks are splitting; there are plenty
For the squirrel and the mouse.
Now the spider, swift and busy,
Netting dead boughs—tell me, is he
Not by far the one most busy,
Spinneth in the garden-house?
| Songs of the Cavaliers and Roundheads | |