Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, NORTHERN FARMER, OLD STYLE, by ALFRED TENNYSON

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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

NORTHERN FARMER, OLD STYLE, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Wheer 'asta bean saw long and mea liggin' 'ere aloan?
Last Line: Git ma my aale, I tell tha, an' if I mun doy I mun doy.
Alternate Author Name(s): Tennyson, Lord Alfred; Tennyson, 1st Baron; Tennyson Of Aldworth And Farringford, Baron
Subject(s): Farm Life; Agriculture; Farmers


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 aale, but I beant a fool;
Git ma my aale, fur I beant a-gawin' to break my rule.


Doctors, they knaws nowt, fur 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' aale ivry noight sin' I bean 'ere.
An' I've 'ed my quart ivry market-noight for foorty year.


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 moy duty boy 'um, as I 'a done boy the lond.


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


An' I hallus coom'd to 's choorch afoor moy Sally wur dead,
An' 'eard 'um a bummin' awaay loike a buzzard-clock ower my 'ead,
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 coom'd awaay.


Bessy Marris's barne! tha knaws she laaid it to mea.
Mowt a bean, mayhap, for she wur a bad un, shea.
'Siver, I kep 'um, I kep 'um, my lass, tha mun understond;
I done moy duty boy 'um, as I 'a done boy the lond.


But Parson a cooms an' a goas, 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, thaw summun said it in 'aaste;
But 'e reads wonn sarmin a weeak, an' I 'a stubb'd Thurnaby waaste.


D' ya moind the waaste, my lass? naw, naw, tha was not born then;
Theer wur a boggle in it, I often 'eard 'um mysen;
Moast loike a butter-bump, fur I 'eard 'um about an' about,
But I stubb'd 'um oop wi' the lot, an' raaved an' rembled 'um out.


Keaper's it wur; fo' they fun 'um theer a-laaid of 'is faace
Down i' the woild 'enemies afoor I coom'd to the plaace.
Noaks or Thimbleby -- toaner 'ed shot 'um as dead as a naail.
Noaks wur 'ang'd for it oop at 'soize -- but git ma my aale.


Dubbut loook at the waaste; theer warn't not feead for a cow;
Nowt at all but bracken an' fuzz, an' loook at it now --
Warn't worth nowt a haacre, an' now theer's lots o' feead,
Fourscoor yows upon it, an' some on it down i' seead.


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 hoonderd haacre o' Squoire's, an' lond o' my oan.


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 managed for Squoire coom Michaelmas thutty year.


A mowt 'a taaen owd Joanes, as 'ant not a 'aapoth o' sense,
Or a mowt 'a taaen young Robins -- a niver mended a fence;
But Godamoighty a moost taake mea an' taake ma now,
Wi' aaf the cows to cauve an' Thurnaby hoalms to plow!


Loook 'ow quoloty smoiles when they seeas ma a passin' boy,
Says to thessen, naw doubt, 'What a man a bea sewer-loy!'
Fur they knaws what I bean to Squoire sin' fust a coom'd to the 'All;
I done moy duty by Squoire an' I done moy duty boy hall.


Squoire's i' Lunnon, an' summun I reckons 'ull 'a to wroite,
For whoa's to howd the lond ater mea thot muddles ma quoit;
Sartin-sewer I bea thot a weant niver give it to Joanes,
Naw, nor a moant to Robins -- a niver rembles the stoans.


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


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

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