Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect by William Barnes. First Collection. Fourth Edition |
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THE MEAD A-MOWN. |
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 | Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect |  |
THE MEAD A-MOWN.
When sheädes do vall into ev'ry hollow,
An' reach vrom trees half athirt the groun';
An' banks an' walls be a-lookèn yollow,
That be a-turn'd to the zun gwaïn down;
Drough haÿ in cock, O,
We all do vlock' O,
Along our road vrom the meäd a-mown.
An' reach vrom trees half athirt the groun';
An' banks an' walls be a-lookèn yollow,
That be a-turn'd to the zun gwaïn down;
Drough haÿ in cock, O,
We all do vlock' O,
Along our road vrom the meäd a-mown.
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An' when the last swaÿèn lwoad's a-started
Up hill so slow to the lofty rick,
Then we so weary but merry-hearted,
Do shoulder each ō's a reäke an' pick,
Wi' empty flagon,
Behind the waggon,
To teäke our road vrom the meäd a-mown.
Up hill so slow to the lofty rick,
Then we so weary but merry-hearted,
Do shoulder each ō's a reäke an' pick,
Wi' empty flagon,
Behind the waggon,
To teäke our road vrom the meäd a-mown.
When chureh is out, an' we all so slowly
About the knap be a-spreadèn wide,
How gaÿ the paths be where we do strolly
Along the leäne an' the hedge's zide;
But nwone's a voun', O,
Up hill or down, O,
So gaÿ's the road drough the meäd a-mown.
About the knap be a-spreadèn wide,
How gaÿ the paths be where we do strolly
Along the leäne an' the hedge's zide;
But nwone's a voun', O,
Up hill or down, O,
So gaÿ's the road drough the meäd a-mown.
An' when the visher do come, a-drowèn
His flutt'rèn line over bleädy zedge,
Drough groun's wi' red thissle-heads a-blowèn,
An' watchèn o't by the water's edge;
Then he do love, O,
The best to rove, O,
Along his road drough the meäd a-mown.
His flutt'rèn line over bleädy zedge,
Drough groun's wi' red thissle-heads a-blowèn,
An' watchèn o't by the water's edge;
Then he do love, O,
The best to rove, O,
Along his road drough the meäd a-mown.
| Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect | |