The later poems of John Clare 1837-1864 ... General editor Eric Robinson: Edited by Eric Robinson and David Powell: Associate editor Margaret Grainger |
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MY OWN SWEET GIPSEY GIRL |
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 | The later poems of John Clare |  |
1096
MY OWN SWEET GIPSEY GIRL
Green clothing covers all the trees
Woodbine in hedges curl
But theres nothing in the world can please
Like the bonny gipsey girl
Twas her on heaths I courted
The young Maria Soames
On rushy knolls we sported
The common was our homes
Her eyes were like the diamond
And her teeth were like to pearl
No lady beauty bloom'd beyond
The nut brown Gipsey girl
Woodbine in hedges curl
But theres nothing in the world can please
Like the bonny gipsey girl
Twas her on heaths I courted
The young Maria Soames
On rushy knolls we sported
The common was our homes
Her eyes were like the diamond
And her teeth were like to pearl
No lady beauty bloom'd beyond
The nut brown Gipsey girl
She sleeps on beds of rushes
And her hair is hung wi dew
Turning gold when morning blushes
On it with golden hue
Her cheek is brown and healthy
Her lips like coral shine
Her heart it is full wealthy
Like a diamond in a mine
I love the healthy brake
Where the woodbine loves to curl
All for the bonny sake
Of the handsome gipsey girl
And her hair is hung wi dew
Turning gold when morning blushes
On it with golden hue
Her cheek is brown and healthy
Her lips like coral shine
Her heart it is full wealthy
Like a diamond in a mine
I love the healthy brake
Where the woodbine loves to curl
All for the bonny sake
Of the handsome gipsey girl
I love the grass she treads on
The flowers that she sees
The wild thyme bank she beds on
Mid the songs of honey bees
I love the hedge she lies by
The furze bush by the camp
The Blackbird prinks and flies by
Where my gipsey lass doth tramp
Her eyes bright dew drops luscious
Her teeth are like the pearl
And sweet are all the blushes
Of my own sweet gipsey girl
The flowers that she sees
The wild thyme bank she beds on
Mid the songs of honey bees
1097
The furze bush by the camp
The Blackbird prinks and flies by
Where my gipsey lass doth tramp
Her eyes bright dew drops luscious
Her teeth are like the pearl
And sweet are all the blushes
Of my own sweet gipsey girl
Oh I love the rushy common
And the wild rose hedge to see
And the gadding woodbine bloomin
Is a sweet flower to me
There bonny young Maria
Sits and plaits her dark brown hair
The wild rose on the briar
Than her tan cheeks not more fair
Her bosoms bonny mould
Than pure Ivory or pearl
Is whiter to behold
Of my charming gipsey girl
And the wild rose hedge to see
And the gadding woodbine bloomin
Is a sweet flower to me
There bonny young Maria
Sits and plaits her dark brown hair
The wild rose on the briar
Than her tan cheeks not more fair
Her bosoms bonny mould
Than pure Ivory or pearl
Is whiter to behold
Of my charming gipsey girl
| The later poems of John Clare | |