Aw’ve worn my bits o’ shoon away,
Wi’ roving up an’ deawn,
To see yon moorlan’ valleys, an’
Yon little country teawn:
The dule tak shoon, and stockins too!
My heart feels warm an’ fain
An’, if aw trudge it bar-fuut, lads,
Aw’ll see yon teawn again!
It’s what care I for cities grand,-
We never shall agree;
Aw’d rayther live where th’ layrock sings,-
A country teawn for me!
A country teawn, where one can meet
Wi’ friends, an’ neighbours known;
Where one can lounge i’th market-place,
An’ see the meadows mown.
Yon rollin’ hills are very fine,
At th’ end o’ sweet July;
Yon woodland’ cloofs, an valleys green,-
The bonnist under th’ sky;
Yon dainty rindles, dancin’ deawn
Fro’ th’ meawntains into th’ plain;-
As soon as th’ new moon rises, lads,
Aw’d off to th’ moors again!
There’s jolly lads among yon hills,
An’ in yon country teawn;
They’n far moor sense than preawder folk,-
Aw’ll peawnd it for a creawn;
They’re wick an’ warm at wark an’ fun,
Wherever they may go,-
The primest breed o’ lads i’th world,-
Good luck attend ’em o’!
Last neet aw laft the city throng,
An’ climbed yon hillock green;
An’ sat me deawn to look at th’ hills,
Wi’ th’ wayter i’ my e’en;-
Wi’ th’ wayter wellin’ i’ my e’en;-
Aw’ll bundle up, an’ go,
An’ live an’ dee i’ my own countrie,
Where moorlan’ breezes blow!
(Edwin Waugh)
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Based on Topics: World Poems, Friendship Poems, Cities Poems, Countries PoemsBased on Keywords: rayther, rollin, countrie, dule, deawn, laft, teawn, layrock, wayter, primest, creawn