GWAÏN DOWN THE STEPS VOR WATER.
While zuns do roll vrom east to west
To bring us work, or leäve us rest,
There down below the steep hill-zide,
Drough time an’ tide, the spring do flow;
An’ mothers there, vor years a-gone,
Lik’ daughters now a-comèn on,
To bloom when they be weak an’ wan,
Went down the steps vor water.
An’ what do yonder ringers tell
A-ringèn changes, bell by bell;
Or what’s a-show’d by yonder zight
O’ vo’k in white, upon the road.
But that by John o’ Woodleys zide,
There ’s now a-blushèn vor his bride,
A pretty maïd that vu’st he spied,
Gwaïn down the steps vor water.
Though she, ’tis true, is feäir an’ kind,
There still be mwore a-left behind;
So cleän ’s the light the zun do gi’e,
So sprack ’s a bee when zummer’s bright;
An’ if I’ve luck, I woont be slow
To teäke off woone that I do know,
A-trippèn gaïly to an’ fro.
Upon the steps vor water.
Her father idden poor—but vew
In parish be so well to do;
Vor his own cows do swing their taïls
Behind his païls, below his boughs:
An’ then ageän to win my love,
Why, she’s as hwomely as a dove,
An’ don’t hold up herzelf above
Gwaïn down the steps vor water.