Poems and Songs :: :: University of Virginia Library

Heigh, Jone, owd brid, bring in some ale;
I'm fain to see tho wick an' weel.
We'n make this cote ring like a bell
Wi' jolly-hearted sound, lads!
We're just come liltin', full o' glee,
Fro' th' moorlan' tops, so wild an' free;
Come, clear this floor, an' let 'em see
Us dance a Cheshire round, lads!

II

There's Jonathan can sing a song
That's four-an'-twenty verses long,
An' twitterin' Ben caps owd an' young
For merry country cracks, mon!

169

There's Thistle Jack; there's limber Joe,—
He'll wrostle aught i'th town an' fo';
Come cut an' long tail, he licks o',
An' lays 'em o' their backs, mon!

III

There's Ned wi'th pipes, an' curly Bill,
An' Tum o' Nell's fro' Wardle Hill,
An' moorlan' Dan fro' the Blue Pots rill,
An' fither-fuuted Dick, mon!
Thou may wander far, an' pick an' choose,
Where rindles run an' heather groos;
Thou'll find no blither cowts than thoose
Fro' here to Windle Nick, mon!

IV

We're brown as hazel-nuts wi'th sun,
For th' harvest's o'er, an' th' hay's weel won;
An' every heart runs o'er wi' fun,
An' every lad's i' prime, mon!
Their e'en are wick wi' merry leet;
We'n trip it round wi' nimble feet;
With reet good will we'n blithely greet
This bonny summer time, mon!

170

V

Then bring a foamin' tankard in,
An' weet yo'r whistles an' begin;
This roof shall ring with jovial din,—
It's haliday to-day, lads!
God bless owd England's hearts of oak,
Her toilin' swarms, an' sturdy folk;
May they never yield to tyrant's yoke,
I will both sing an' pray, lads!