William Barnes

Woak Hill

		When sycamore leaves wer a-spreadèn,
		Green-ruddy, in hedges,
		Bezide the red doust o' the ridges,
		A-dried at Woak Hill;

5		I packed up my goods all a-sheenèn
		Wi' long years o' handlèn,
		On dousty red wheels ov a wagon,
		To ride at Woak Hill.

		The brown thatchen ruf o' the dwellen
10		I then wer a-leävèn,
		Had shelter'd the sleek head o' Meäry,
		My bride at Woak Hill.

		But now vor zome years, her light voot-vall
		'S a-lost vrom the vloorèn.
15		Too soon vor my jay an' my childern,
		She died at Woak Hill.

		But still I do think that, in soul,
		She do hover about us;
		To ho vor her motherless children,
20		Her pride at Woak Hill.

		Zoo - lest she should tell me hereafter
		I stole off 'ithout her,
		An' left her, uncall'd at house-ridden,
		To bide at Woak Hill -

25		I call'd her so fondly, wi' lippèns
		All soundless to others,
		An' took her wi' aïr-reachèn hand,
		To my zide at Woak Hill.

		On the road I did look round, a-talkèn
30		To light at my shoulder,
		An' then led her in at the door-way,
		Miles wide vrom Woak Hill.

		An' that's why vo'k thought, vor a season,
		My mind wer a-wandrèn
35		Wi' sorrow, when I wer so sorely
		A-tried at Woak Hill.
		But no; that my Meäry mid never
		Behold herzelf slighted,
		I wanted to think that I guided
40		My guide vrom Woak Hill.

First published 1844

Stephen Van-Hagen