Ov all the housen o’ the pleaece,
There’s woone where I do like to call
By day or night the best ov all,
To zee my Fanny’s smilen feaece;
An’ there the steaetely trees do grow,
A-rocken as the win’ do blow,
While she do sweetly sleep below,
In the stillness o’ the night.
An’ there, at evenen, I do goo
A-hoppen over geaetes an’ bars,
By twinklen light o’ winter stars,
When snow do clumper to my shoe;
An’ zometimes we do slyly catch
A chat an hour upon the stratch,
An’ peaert wi’ whispers at the hatch
In the stillness o’ the night.
An’ zometimes she do goo to zome
Young naighbours’ housen down the pleaece,
An’ I do get a clue to treaece
Her out, an’ goo to zee her hwome;
An’ I do wish a vield a mile,
As she do sweetly chat an’ smile
Along the drove, or at the stile,
In the stillness o’ the night.
Other works by William Barnes...
