The early poems of John Clare :: :: University of Virginia Library

Young peggy the milking maid lusty and neat
Met her old sweetheart jo at the fair
But being so modest and very discreet
She hated to talk with him there

Yet botherd to dead with his sorrowful whine
Of ‘pray'r a do peggy go wi'd—us’
She promis'd that if the next sunday was fine
She'd walk with him down in the meadows

Tho in one dissapointed he bless'd his good luck
And in a pleas'd caper cut off
And often would wisper ‘the good natur'd duck’
Then shrug up his shoulders and laugh

Till just reccolecting the maid was ill serv'd
His carelesness nettled him sore
To be so forgetful of what she deserv'd
He dash'd his thick head oer and oer

For surely he thought if the wench had been bad
As the proud stuck up mortals are all
He cou'd'n't have serv'd her more worse then he had
To offer her nothing at all

So he brush'd away back and desird her to take
(While his former ill manners he chid)
A fareing to keep while she liv'd for his sake
As sweethearts in generaley did

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O dear about that jo soon cried the good creature
You need not be troubl'd however
And with a sweet smile that bespoke her good nature
Refus'd all he offer'd to give her

Yet assur'd him for certain she'd still meet him there
Then made her self ready to start
While jo halloo'd carles of folks in the fair
This farewell salute from his heart

‘Well god b[l]ess you goodby if you wornt then I'll go
But I love you as s' true as I'm born
And peg but not quite so familiar as jo
Nodding smileingly wishd him good morn

Pleas'd as punsh by himself all the rest of the day
He struted about very proud
And when ever peg happen'd to fall in his way
He slipt unobserv'd in the crowd

For as things where agreed on where they was to go
If he met her he'd nothing to say
So he thought (as he cou'd'n't abide to do so)
'T'was the best to keep out of her way

And when safe at home from the squabble and show
Fix'd at his old job the plow tail
Tho he fancied the days pass'd away very slow
He sung like the sweet Nightingale

At length sunday morn so much wishd for arose
While before hand on saturday night
Jo brightn'd his hilo's and brush'd up his cloaths
To make his apperance look tight

But alas to his sorrow the morning rose dull
And thro his old window half slatted
The dykes in the streets all appeared chock full
While big drops 'gainst the glass light still patted

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To be so much balk'd how tormented was he
Yet he swore if the day turn'd out so
As the roads could get stiffen'd he'd still go & see
To be sure if she met him or no

All the morning impatient on peggy and love
He often look'd out at the door
However at last the noon happen'd to prove
Just as he had wish'd heretofore

O promising prospects no joys could surpass
The feelings which they did beget
In the garden he bustl'd to feel if the grass
Was any way free'd from the wet

In this he sucseded and never gave out
That the short sooner dry'd than the long
But to get himself ready he scamper'd about
As to stay past the time would be wrong

In his best now adorned he slove to the glass
And glanc'd at himself oer and oer
While to set off his face for engageing the lass
He parted his hair down before

Then he cock'd up his hat on his nob newly shorn
As neat and as trim as the day
And took up his hand stick a neatly trim'd thorn
And bang'd thro the village away

And with the best pace he could put on for fear
His old Comrades should see him alone
For he knew very well if they did they'd enquire
About matters not meant to be known

And soon by his swiftness the meadow the spot
Where they was to meet came in sight
And tho doubting wether she'd be there or not
The place fill'd his heart with delight

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He made many stops ere he came to the spot
And oft thought he saw something stir
Looking earnestly round and the nearer he got
Hope wisper'd ‘more speed yonders her’

But joys soon abated.—hopes wispers was o'er
When he came up so nigh to the place
As fancys false visions could cheat him no more
When every thing wore its own dress

For alas to his sorrow sad sorrow when there
No Peg could be found high nor low
An old touch-wood tree of both bark and leaves bare
Was the object that cheated him so