Sundry Pieces: Poll
When out below the trees, that drow’d
Their scraggy lim’s athirt the road,
While evenen zuns, a’most a-zet,
Gi’ed goolden light, but little het,
The merry chaps an’ maidens met,
An’ look’d to zomebody to neaeme
Their bit o’ fun, a dance or geaeme,
’Twer Poll they cluster’d round.
An’ after they’d a-had enough
O’ snappen tongs, or blind-man’s buff,
O’ winter nights, an’ went an’ stood
Avore the vire o’ bleaezen wood,
Though there wer maidens kind an’ good,
Though there wer maidens feaeir an’ tall,
’Twer Poll that wer the queen o’m all,
An’ Poll they cluster’d round.
An’ when the childern used to catch
A glimpse o’ Poll avore the hatch,
The little things did run to meet
Their friend wi’ skippen tott’ren veet
An’ thought noo other kiss so sweet
As hers; an’ nwone could vind em out
Such geaemes to meaeke em jump an’ shout,
As Poll they cluster’d round.
An’ now, since she’ve a-left em, all
The pleaece do miss her, girt an’ small.
In vain vor them the zun do sheen
Upon the lwonesome rwoad an’ green;
Their zwing do hang vorgot between
The leaenen trees, vor they’ve a-lost
The best o’ maidens, to their cost,
The maid they cluster’d round.
Other works by William Barnes...
