659. The Wife a-lost

William Barnes. 1801-1886


SINCE I noo mwore do zee your feńce,
  Up steńrs or down below,
I'll zit me in the lwonesome pleńce,
  Where flat-bough'd beech do grow;
Below the beeches' bough, my love,
  Where you did never come,
An' I don't look to meet ye now,
  As I do look at hwome.

Since you noo mwore be at my zide,
  In walks in zummer het,
I'll goo alwone where mist do ride,
  Droo trees a-drippen wet;
Below the ra´n-wet bough, my love,
  Where you did never come,
An' I don't grieve to miss ye now,
  As I do grieve at hwome.

Since now bezide my dinner-bwoard
  Your va´ce do never sound,
I'll eat the bit I can avword
  A-vield upon the ground;
Below the darksome bough, my love,
  Where you did never dine,
An' I don't grieve to miss ye now,
  As I at hwome do pine.

Since I do miss your va´ce an' feńce
  In prayer at eventide,
I'll pray wi' woone sad va´ce vor greńce
  To goo where you do bide;
Above the tree an' bough, my love,
  Where you be gone avore,
An' be a-wa´ten vor me now,
  To come vor evermwore.

The Oxford Book of English Verse, HTML edition