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Moorman, F. W. (Frederic William), 1872-1919

"Songs of the Ridings"


I' t' sky aboon nea lairock
Has sae mich reet to sing
As I have, noo I've wedded
T' lile lass o' Fulsa Ing.
A weddin', a woo,
A clog an' a shoe,
A pot full o' porridge; away we go!
Does ta hear yon watter bubblin',
Deep doon i' t' moorland streams?
It soonds like childer' voices
When they're laughin' i' their dreams.
An' look at yon lang-tailed pyots,(2)
There s three on 'em, I'll uphod!
Folks say that three's for a weddin',
Ay, a pyot's a canny bod.
A weddin', a woo,
A clog an' a shoe,
A pot full o' porridge; away we go!
I love to feel thee clingin'
Wi' thy hands aroond my breast;
Thy bosom's leetly heavin',
Like a ship on t' saut waves' crest.
An' thy breath is sweet as t' breezes,
That cooms ower t' soothern hills,
When t' violet blaws i' t' springtime
Wi' t' yollow daffydills.
A weddin', a woo,
A clog an' a shoe,
A pot full o' porridge; away we go!
Is ta gittin' tired, my honey,
We'll be heame i' hafe an hour;
Thoo'll see our hoose an' staggarth,
Wi' t' birk-trees bendin' ower.


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