Poll

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When out below the trees, that drow'd
  Their scraggy lim's athirt the road,
  While evenèn zuns, a'móst a-zet,
  Gi'ed goolden light, but little het,
  The merry chaps an' maïdens met,
  An' look'd to zomebody to neäme
  Their bit o' fun, a dance or geäme,
  'Twer Poll they cluster'd round.

  An' after they'd a-had enough
  O' snappèn tongs, or blind-man's buff,
  O' winter nights, an' went an' stood
  Avore the vire o' bleäzen wood,
  Though there wer maïdens kind an' good,
  Though there wer maïdens feäir an' tall,
  'Twer Poll that wer the queen o'm all,
  An' Poll they cluster'd round.

  An' when the childern used to catch
  A glimpse o' Poll avore the hatch,
  The little things did run to meet
  Their friend wi' skippèn tott'rèn veet
  An' thought noo other kiss so sweet
  As hers; an' nwone could vind em out
  Such geämes to meäke em jump an' shout,
  As Poll they cluster'd round.

  An' now, since she've a-left em, all
  The pleäce do miss her, girt an' small.
  In vaïn vor them the zun do sheen
  Upon the lwonesome rwoad an' green;
  Their zwing do hang vorgot between
  The leänen trees, vor they've a-lost
  The best o' maïdens, to their cost,
  The maïd they cluster'd round.

© William Barnes