Hawthorn Down

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All up the down's cool brow
  I work'd in noontide's gleäre,
  On where the slow-wheel'd plow
  'D a-wore the grass half bare.
  An' gil'cups quiver'd quick,
  As aïr did pass,
  An' deäisies huddled thick
  Among the grass.

  The while my eärms did swing
  Wi' work I had on hand,
  The quick-wing'd lark did zing
  Above the green-tree'd land,
  An' bwoys below me chafed
  The dog vor fun,
  An' he, vor all they laef'd,
  Did meäke em run.

  The south zide o' the hill,
  My own tun-smoke rose blue,--
  In North Coomb, near the mill,
  My mother's wer in view--
  Where woonce her vier vor all
  Ov us did burn,
  As I have childern small
  Round mine in turn.

  An' zoo I still wull cheer
  Her life wi' my small store,
  As she do drop a tear
  Bezide her lwonesome door.
  The love that I do owe
  Her ruf, I'll paÿ,
  An' then zit down below
  My own wi' jaÿ.

© William Barnes