Blackmwore Maidens
By William Barnes
The primrwose in the shade do blow,
The cowslip in the zun,
The thyme upon the down do grow,
The clote where streams do run;
An where do pretty maidens grow
An blow, but where the towr
Do rise among the bricken tuns,
In Blackmwore by the Stour.
If you could zee their comely gait,
An pretty faces smiles,
A-trippen on so light o waight,
An steppen off the stiles;
A-gwain to church, as bells do swing
An ring ithin the towr,
Youd own the pretty maidens place
Is Blackmwore by the Stour.
If you vrom Wimborne took your road,
To Stower or Paladore,
An all the farmers housen showd
Their daughters at the door;
Youd cry to bachelors at hwome
Here, come: ithin an hour
You ll vind ten maidens to your mind,
In Blackmwore by the Stour.
An if you lookd ithin their door,
To zee em in their place,
A-doen housework up avore
Their smilen mothers face;
Youd cry Why, if a man would wive
An thrive, ithout a dowr,
Then let en look en out a wife
In Blackmwore by the Stour.
As I upon my road did pass
A school-house back in May,
There out upon the beten grass
Wer madens at their play
An as the pretty souls did tweil
An smile, I cried, The flowr
O beauty, then, is still in bud
In Blackmore by the Stour.