Then the boomèn wold clock in the tower did mark
His vive hours, avore the cool evenèn wer dark,
An’ ivy did glitter a-clung round the bark
O’ the tree, at the turn o’ the days.
An’ womèn a-fraïd o’ the road in the night,
Wer a-heästenèn on to reach hwome by the light,
A-castèn long sheädes on the road, a-dried white,
Down the hill, at the turn o’ the days.
The father an’ mother did walk out to view
The moss-bedded snow-drop, a-sprung in the lew,
An’ hear if the birds wer a-zingèn anew,
In the boughs, at the turn o’ the days.
An’ young vo’k a-laughèn wi’ smooth glossy feäce,
Did hie over vields, wi’ a light-vooted peäce,
To friends where the tow’r did betoken a pleäce
Among trees, at the turn o’ the days.
THE SPARROW CLUB.
Last night the merry farmers’ sons,
Vrom biggest down to leäst, min,
Gi’ed in the work of all their guns,
An’ had their sparrow feäst, min.
An’ who vor woone good merry soul
Should goo to sheäre their me’th, min,
But Gammon Gaÿ, a chap so droll,
He’d meäke ye laugh to death, min.
Vor heads o’ sparrows they’ve a-shot
They’ll have a prize in cwein, min,
That is, if they can meäke their scot,
Or else they’ll paÿ a fine, min.
An’ all the money they can teäke
’S a-gather’d up there-right, min,
