The Poetry Corner

The Spinsters Sweet-Arts

By Alfred Lord Tennyson

1 Milk for my sweet-arts, Bess! fur it mun be the time about now When dolly cooms in fro the far-end close wi her pails fro the cow. Eh! tha be new to the placethourt gapindoesnt tha see I calls em arter the fellers es once was sweet upo me? II Nay to be sewer it be past er time. What makes er sa late? Goa to the lane at the back, an look thruf Maddisons gate! III Sweet-arts! Molly belike may a lighted to-night upo one. Sweet-arts! thanks to the Lord that I niver not listend to non! So I sits i my on armchair wi my on kettle theere o the hob, An Tommy the fust, an Tommy the second, an Steevie an Rob. IV Rob, coom cop ere o my knee. Thou sees that i spite o the men I a kep thruf thick an thin my two oonderd a-year to mysen; Yis! thaw tha calld me es pretty es ony lass i the Shere; An thou be es pretty a Tabby, but Robby I seed thruf ya theere. V Feyther ud say I wur ugly es sin, an I bent not vain, But I niver wur downright hugly, thaw soom ud a thowt ma plain, An I wasnt sa plain i pink ribbons, ye said I wur pretty i pinks, An I liked to ear it I did, but I brunt sich a fool as ye thinks; Ye was strokin ma down wi the air, as I be a-strokin o you, But whiniver I looked i the glass I wur sewer that it couldnt be true; Niver wur pretty, not I, but ye knawd it wur pleasant to ear, Thaw it warnt not me es wur pretty, but my two oonderd a-year. VI Dya mind the murnin when we was a-walkin togither, an stood By the clayd-oop pond, that the foalk be sa scared at, i Gigglesby wood, Wheer the poor wench drowndid hersen, black Sal, esed been disgraced? An I feeld thy arm es I stood wur a-creepin about my waist; An me es wur allus afeard of a mans gittin over fond, I sidled away an away till I plumpt foot fust i the pond; And, Robby, I niver a liked tha sa well, as I did that day, Fur tha joompt in thysen, an tha hoickt my feet wi a flop fro the clay. Ay, stick oop thy back, an set oop thy tail, tha may gie ma a kiss, Fur I walkd wi tha all the way hoam an wur niver sa nigh sayin Yis. But wa boath was i sich a clat we was shamed to cross Gigglesby Green, Fur a cat may look at a king thou knaws but the cat mun be clean. Sa we both on us kep out o sight o the winders o Gigglesby Hinn Nay, but the claws o tha! quiet! they pricks clean thruf to the skin An wa both slinkt om by the brokken shed i the lane at the back, Wheer the poodle runnd at tha once, an thou runnd oop o the thack; An tha squeedgd my and i the shed, fur theere we was forced to ide, Fur I seed that Steevie wur coomin, and one o the Tommies beside. VII Theere now, what art a mewin at, Steevie? for owt I can tell Robby wur fust to be sewer, or I mowt a liked tha as well. VIII But, Robby, I thowt o tha all the while I wur changin my gown, An I thowt shall I change my state? but, O Lord, upo coomin down My bran-new carpet es fresh es a midder o flowers i May Why ednt tha wiped thy shoes? it wur clatted all ower wi clay. An I could a cried ammost, fur I seed that it couldnt be, An Robby I gied tha a ratin that sattled thy coortin o me. An Molly an me was agreed, as we was a-cleanin the floor, That a man be a durty thing an a trouble an plague wi indoor. But I rued it arter a bit, fur I stuck to tha moor na the rest, But I couldnt a lived wi a man an I knaws it be all fur the best. IX Naylet ma strok tha down till I makes tha es smooth es silk, But if I ed married tha, Robby, thoud not a been worth thy milk, Thoud niver a cotchd ony mice but a left me the work to do, And a taen to the bottle beside, so es all that I ears be true; But I loovs tha to make thysen appy, an soa purr away, my dear, Thou ed wellnigh purrd ma away fro my on two oonderd a-year. X Swerin agean, you Toms, as ye used to do twelve year sin! Ye niver erd Steevie swear cep it wur at a dog coomin in, An boath o ye mun be fools to be hallus a-shawin your claws, Fur I niver cared nothink for neitheran one o ye ded ye knaws! Coom give hover then, weant ye? I warrant ye soom fine day Theere, dig downI shall hew to gie one or tother away. Cant ye take pattern by Steevie? ye shant hew a drop fro the pail. Steevie be right good manners bang thruf to the tip o the tail. Xl. Robby, git down witha, wilt tha? let Steevie coom oop o my knee. Steevie, my lad, thou ed very nigh been the Steevie fur me! Robby wur fust to be sewer, e wur burn an bred i the ouse, But thou be es ansom a tabby es iver patted a mouse. XII An I bent not vain, but I knaws I ed led tha a quieter life Nor her wi the hepitaph yonder! A faithfnl an loovin wife! An cos o thy farm by the beck, an thy windmill oop o the croft, Tha thowt tha would marry ma, did tha? but that wur a bit ower soft, Thaw thou was es sober es day, wi a niced red face, an es clen Es a shillin fresh fro the mint wi a bran-new ed o the Queen, An thy farmin es clen es thysen, fur, Steevie, tha kep it sa net That I niver not spied sa much es a poppy along wi the whet, An the wool of a thistle a-flyin an seedin tha hated to see; Twur es bad es a battle-twig1 ere i my on blue chaumber to me. Ay, roob thy whiskers agen ma, fur I could a taen to tha well, But fur thy bairns, poor Steevie, a bouncin boy an a gell. XIII An thou was es fond o thy bairns es I be mysen o my cats, But I niver not wishd fur childer, I hevnt naw likin fur brats; Pretty anew when ya dresses em oop, an they gos fur a walk, Or sits wi their ands afoor em, an doesnt not inder the talk! But their bottles o pap, an their mucky bibs, an the clats an the clouts, An their mashin their toys to pieces an makin ma deaf wi their shouts, An hallus a-joompin about ma as if they was set upo springs, An a haxin ma hawkard questions, an sayin ondecent things, Alt a-callin ma hugly mayhap to my face, or a terin my gown Dear! dear! dear! I mun part them TommiesSteevie git down. XIV Ye be wuss nor the men-tommies, you. I telld ya, na moor o that! Tom, lig theere o the cushion, an tother Tom ere o the mat. XV Theere! I ha masterd them! Hed I married the TommiesO Lord, To loove an obay the Tommies! I couldnt a stuck by my word. To be horderd about, an waked, when Molly d put out the light, By a man coomin in wi a hiccup at ony hour o the night! An the table staind wi is ale, an the mud o is boots o the stairs, An the stink o is pipe i the ouse, an the mark o is ed o the chairs! An noun o my four sweet-arts ud a let me a led my on way, Sa I likes em best wi tails when they evnt a word to say. XVII An I sits i my on little parlour, an sarved by my on little lass, Wi my on little garden outside, an my on bed o sparrow-grass, An my on door-poorch wi the woodbine an jessmine a-dressin it green, An my on fine Jackman i purple a robin the ouse like a Queen. XVII An the little gells bobs to ma hoffens es I be abroad i the lanes, When I gos fur to coomfut the poor es be down wi their haches an their pains: An a haf-pot o jam, or a mossel o met when it bent too dear, They makes ma a grater Lady nor er i the mansion theer, Hes es hallus to hax of a man how much to spare or to spend; An a spinster I be an I will be, if so plese God, to the hend. XVIII Mew! mew!Bess wi the milk! what ha made our Molly sa late? It should a been ere by seven, an theereit be strikin height Cushie wur crazed furer cauf wellI erd er a makin er mon, An I thowt to mysen thank God that I hevnt naw cauf o my on. Theere! Set it down! Now Robby! You Tommies shall wait to-night Till Robby an Steevie es ed their lapan it sarves ye right.