When snow-white clouds wer thin an’ vew
Avore the zummer sky o’ blue,
An’ I’d noo ho but how to vind
Zome play to entertain my mind;
Along the water, as did wind
Wi’ zedgy shoal an’ hollow crook,
How I did ramble by the brook
That ran all down vrom gramfer’s.
A-holden out my line beyond
The clote-leaves, wi’ my withy wand,
How I did watch, wi’ eager look,
My zwimmen cork, a-zunk or shook
By minnows nibblen at my hook,
A-thinken I should catch a breaece
O’ perch, or at the leaest some deaece,
A-zwimmen down vrom gramfer’s.
Then ten good deaeries wer a-ved
Along that water’s winden bed,
An’ in the lewth o’ hills an’ wood
A half a score farm-housen stood:
But now,—count all o’m how you would,
So many less do hold the land,—
You’d vind but vive that still do stand,
A-comen down vrom gramfer’s.
There, in the midst ov all his land,
The squier’s ten-tunn’d house did stand,
Where he did meaeke the water clim’
A bank, an’ sparkle under dim
Bridge arches, villen to the brim
His pon’, an’ leaepen, white as snow,
Vrom rocks a-glitt’ren in a bow,
An’ runnen down to gramfer’s.
An’ now woone wing is all you’d vind
O’ thik girt house a-left behind;
An’ only woone wold stwonen tun
‘S a-stannen to the rain an’ zun,—
An’ all’s undone that he’d a-done;
The brook ha’ now noo call to stay
To vill his pon’ or clim’ his bay,
A-runnen down to gramfer’s.
When woonce, in heavy rain, the road
At Grenley bridge wer overflow’d,
Poor Sophy White, the pleaeces pride,
A-gwain vrom market, went to ride
Her pony droo to tother zide;
But vound the stream so deep an’ strong,
That took her off the road along
The hollow down to gramfer’s.
‘Twer dark, an’ she went on too vast
To catch hold any thing she pass’d;
Noo bough hung over to her hand,
An’ she could reach noo stwone nor land,
Where woonce her little voot could stand;
Noo ears wer out to hear her cries,
Nor wer she woonce a-zeen by eyes,
Till took up dead at gramfer’s.
Other works by William Barnes...
