At last Jeaene come down stairs, a-drest
Wi’ wedden knots upon her breast,
A-blushen, while a tear did lie
Upon her burnen cheaek half dry;
An’ then her Robert, drawen nigh
Wi’ tothers, took her han’ wi’ pride,
To meaeke her at the church his bride,
Her wedden day in mornen.
Wi’ litty voot an’ beaeten heart
She stepp’d up in the new light cart,
An’ took her bridemaid up to ride
Along wi’ Robert at her zide:
An’ uncle’s meaere look’d roun’ wi’ pride
To zee that, if the cart wer vull,
‘Twer Jenny that he had to pull,
Her wedden day in mornen.
An’ aunt an’ uncle stood stock-still,
An’ watch’d em trotten down the hill;
An’ when they turn’d off out o’ groun’
Down into leaene, two tears run down
Aunt’s feaece; an’ uncle, turnen roun’,
Sigh’d woonce, an’ stump’d off wi’ his stick,
Because did touch en to the quick
To peaert wi’ Jeaene thik mornen.
“Now Jeaene’s agone,” Tom mutter’d, “we
Shall mwope lik’ owls 'ithin a tree;
Vor she did zet us all agog
Vor fun, avore the burnen log.”
An’ as he zot an’ talk’d, the dog
Put up his nose athirt his thighs,
But coulden meaeke en turn his eyes,
Jeaene’s wedden day in mornen.
An’ then the naighbours round us, all
By woones an’ twos begun to call,
To meet the young vo’k, when the meaere
Mid bring em back a married peaeir:
An’ all o’m zaid, to Robert’s sheaere,
There had a-vell the feaerest feaece,
An’ kindest heart in all the pleaece,
Jeaene’s wedden day in mornen.
Other works by William Barnes...
