‘My stead’s far end o’ neeawheer,
Neea lass wud care to settle there:
Afore she died, my mother said,
“It’s time, dear lad, ‘at thoo wur wed.
I weean’t bide wi’ thee fur aye,
Soa Willie think on what I say.
What aboot Meg? Write her a letter,
(At butter-making theer’s nooan better) . . .
Theer’s Joan, she’ll hae a seet o’ brass
Yan day, an she’s a gradely lass!”
‘Aboot ’em baith, my mind’s a-muddle
For neeather lass, I aim to cuddle.
I wud fair liefer gae a-coortin’
O t’gamesome red-head, Jennie Norton,
But mother says she’s not mich use —
Yet happen she’s yan I wud choose,
But then she’d nivver look at me;
I’se noy young Jennie’s cup o’tea!
‘On starless neets when nor’ wind howls
An young bull beals an’ sheep-cur yowls,
An’ I’se seet lanesome, then I goes
To t’byre an’ sings to milkin’ coos.
In t’ingle-neuk I mend my socks
An think on Spring at Coortin’ Rocks;
Hoo lark ‘ull trill an’ curlew whistle,
Mavis, blackie, wren an’ missel;
Hoo ivery bird agen an’ agen
‘Ull sing a luve-sang to his hen.
Megs in leeds, Joan’s walkin’ oot,
I’ll nivver wed, I have neea doubt;
For wheer is t’lass ‘at wud bide here,
In t’stead far end o’neeawheer!’
(Dorothy Una Ratcliffe)
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Based on Topics: Time Poems, Youth Poems, Spring Poems, Doubt & Skepticism Poems, Letters Poems, Tea PoemsBased on Keywords: ivery, wud, liefer, yan, seet, mich, soä, gamesome, gradely, aboot, walkin