Poems and Lancashire Songs :: :: University of Virginia Library

232

TH' SWEETHEART GATE.

I

There's mony a gate eawt of eawr teawn-end,—
But nobbut one for me;
It winds by a rindlin' wayter side,
An' o'er a posied lea;
It wanders into a shady dell;
An' when I've done for th' day,
I never can sattle this heart o' mine,
Beawt walkin' deawn that way.

233

II

It's noather, garden, nor posied lea,
Nor wayter rindlin' clear;
But deawn i' th vale there's a rosy nook,
An' my true love lives theer:
It's olez summer where th' heart's content,
Tho' wintry winds may blow;
An' there's never a gate so kind to th' fuut,
As th' gate one likes to go.

III

When I set off o' sweetheartin', I've
A theawsan' things to say;
But th' very first glent o' yon chimbley-top,
It drives 'em o' away;

234

An' when I meet wi' my bonny lass,
It sets my heart a-jee;—
There's summut i'th leet o' yon two blue e'en
That plays the dule wi' me!

IV

When th' layrock's finished his wark aboon,
An' laid his music by,
He flutters deawn to his mate, an stops
Till dayleet stirs i'th sky.
Though Matty sends me away at dark,
I know that hoo's reet full well;—
An' it's heaw I love a true-hearted lass,
No mortal tung can tell.

235

V

I wish that Michaelmas Day were past,
When wakin' time comes on;
An' I wish that Candlemas Day were here,
An' Matty an' me were one:
I wish this wanderin' wark were o'er—
This maunderin' to an' fro;
That I could go whoam to my own true love,
An' stop at neet an' o'.

Gate, road, way.

Nobbut one, nought but one, only one.

Sattle, settle, put to rest.

Beawt, without.

Noather, neither.

Wayter rindlin', water wandering musically.

Olez, always.

Gate, road, path, way.

To th' fuut, to the foot.

Glent, a glimpse.

Th' leet, the light.

When th' layrock's finished his wark aboon, when the lark has finished his work above.

Till dayleet stirs i'th sky, till the dawning of the day.

Hoo's reet, she's right.

Tung, tongue.

Wakin' time, the time when workmen begin to work by candle-light.

Maunderin', wandering aimlessly, dreamily.

That aw could go whoam to my own true love,
An' stop at neet an' o'.
That I could go home to my own true love,
And stop at night and all.