The Guide Post

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Why thik wold post so long kept out,
  Upon the knap, his eärms astrout,
  A-zendèn on the weary veet
  By where the dree cross roads do meet;
  An' I've a-come so much thik woy,
  Wi' happy heart, a man or bwoy,
  That I'd a-meäde, at last, a'móst
  A friend o' thik wold guidèn post.

  An' there, wi' woone white eärm he show'd,
  Down over bridge, the Leyton road;
  Wi' woone, the leäne a-leädèn roun'
  By Bradlinch Hill, an' on to town;
  An' wi' the last, the way to turn
  Drough common down to Rushiburn,--
  The road I lik'd to goo the mwost
  Ov all upon the guidèn post.

  The Leyton road ha' lofty ranks
  Ov elem trees upon his banks;
  The woone athirt the hill do show
  Us miles o' hedgy meäds below;
  An' he to Rushiburn is wide
  Wi' strips o' green along his zide,
  An' ouer brown-ruf'd house a-móst
  In zight o' thik wold guidèn post.

  An' when the haÿ-meäkers did zwarm
  O' zummer evenèns out vrom farm.
  The merry maïdens an' the chaps,
  A-peärtèn there wi' jokes an' slaps,
  Did goo, zome woone way off, an' zome
  Another, all a-zingèn hwome;
  Vor vew o'm had to goo, at mwost,
  A mile beyond the guidèn post.

  Poor Nanny Brown, woone darkish night,
  When he'd a-been a-païnted white,
  Wer frighten'd, near the gravel pits,
  So dead's a hammer into fits,
  A-thinkèn 'twer the ghost she know'd
  Did come an' haunt the Leyton road;
  Though, after all, poor Nanny's ghost
  Turn'd out to be the guidèn post.

© William Barnes