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A poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Northern Farmer

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Title:     Northern Farmer
Author: Alfred Lord Tennyson [More Titles by Tennyson]

I.

Wheer 'asta bean saw long and mea liggin' 'ere aloan?
Noorse? thoort nowt o' a noorse: whoy, doctor's abean an' agoan:
Says that I moant 'a naw moor yaale: but I beant a fool:
Git ma my yaale, fur I beant a-gooin' to break my rule.


II.

Doctors, they knaws nowt, for a says what's nawways true:
Naw soort o' koind o' use to saay the things that a do.
I've 'ed my point o' yaale ivry noight sin' I bean 'ere,
An' I've 'ed my quart ivry market-noight for foorty year.


III.

Parson's a bean loikewoise, an' a sittin' ere o' my bed.
`The amoighty's a taakin o' you to 'issen, my friend, 'a said,
An' a towd ma my sins, an's toithe were due, an' I gied it in hond;
I done my duty by un, as I 'a done by the lond.

IV.

Larn'd a ma' bea. I reckons I 'annot sa mooch to larn.
But a cost oop, thot a did, 'boot Bessy Marris's barn.
Thof a knaws I hallus voated wi' Squoire an' choorch an staate,
An' i' the woost o' toimes I wur niver agin the raate.


V.

An' I hallus comed to 's choorch afoor moy Sally wur dead,
An' 'eerd un a bummin' awaay loike a buzzard-clock* ower my yead,
An' I niver knaw'd whot a mean'd but I thowt a 'ad summut to saay,
An I thowt a said whot a owt to 'a said an' I comed awaay.

*Cockchafer.


VI.

Bessy Marris's barn! tha knaws she laaid it to mea.
Mowt 'a bean, mayhap, for she wur a bad un, shea.
'Siver, I kep un, I kep un, my lass, tha mun under-stond;
I done my duty by un as I 'a done by the lond.

VII.

But Parson a comes an' a goos, an' a says it easy an' freea
`The amoighty's a taakin o' you to 'issen, my friend,' says 'ea.
I weant saay men be loiars, thof summun said it in 'aaste:
But a reads wonn sarmin a weeak, an' I 'a stubb'd Thornaby waaste.

VIII.

D'ya moind the waaste, my lass? naw, naw, tha was not born then;
Theer wur a boggle in it, I often 'eerd un mysen;
Moast loike a butter-bump,* for I 'eerd un aboot an aboot,
But I stubb'd un oop wi' the lot, an' raaved an rembled un oot.

*Bittern.


IX.

Keaper's it wur; fo' they fun un theer a laaid on 'is faace
Doon i' the woild 'enemies* afoor I comed to the plaace.
Noaks or Thimbleby--toner 'ed shot un as dead as a naail.
Noaks wur 'ang'd for it oop at 'soize--but git ma my yaale.


*Anenomes.

X.

Dubbut looak at the waaste: theer warn't not fead for a cow:
Nowt at all but bracken an' fuzz, an' looak at it now--
Warn't worth nowt a haacre, an' now theer's lots o' fead,
Fourscore yows upon it an' some on it doon in sead.

XI.

Nobbut a bit on it's left, an' I mean'd to 'a stubb'd it at fall,
Done it ta-year I mean'd, an' runn'd plow thruff it an' all,
If godamoighty an' parson 'ud nobbut let ma aloan,
Mea, wi' haate oonderd haacre o' Squoire's an' lond o' my oan.


XII.

Do godamoighty knaw what a's doing a-taakin' o' mea?
I beant wonn as saws 'ere a bean an' yonder a pea;
An' Squoire 'ull be sa mad an' all--a' dear a' dear!
And I 'a monaged for Squoire come Michaelmas thirty year.


XIII.

A mowt 'a taaken Joanes, as 'ant a 'aapoth o' sense,
Or a mowt a' taaken Robins--a niver mended a fence:
But godamoighty a moost taake mea an' taake ma now
Wi 'auf the cows to cauve an' Thornaby holms to plow!

XIV.

Looak 'ow quoloty smoiles when they sees ma a passin' by,
Says to thessen naw doot `what a mon a be sewer-ly!'
For they knaws what I bean to Squoire sin fust a comed to the 'All;
I done my duty by Squoire an' I done my duty by all.

XV.
Squoire's in Lunnon, an' summun I reckons 'ull 'a to wroite,
For who's to howd the lond ater mea thot muddles ma quoit;
Sartin-sewer I bea, thot a weant niver give it to Joanes,
Noither a moant to Robins--a niver rembles the stoans.


XVI.

But summun 'ull come ater mea mayhap wi' 'is kittle o' steam
Huzzin' an' maazin' the blessed fealds wi' the Divil's oan team.
Gin I mun doy I mun doy, an' loife they says is sweet,
But gin I mun doy I mun doy, for I couldn abear to see it.

XVII.

What atta stannin' theer for, an' doesn bring ma the yaale?
Doctor's a 'tottler, lass, an a's hallus i' the owd taale;
I weant break rules for Doctor, a knaws naw moor nor a floy;
Git ma my yaale, I tell tha, an' gin I mun doy I mun doy.


-THE END-
Alfred Lord Tennyson's poem: Northern Farmer

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