The Courting Gate
There’s dew upon the meadows,
An’ bats are wheelin’ high;
The sun has set an hour sin’,
An’ evenin’ leet’s i’ t’ sky.
Swalows i’ t’ thack are sleepin ,
Neet-hawks are swift on t’ wing,
An’ grey moths gethers honey
Amang the purple ling .
O coom an’ meet me, Mally,
O coom an’ greet me, Mally,
Meet me, greet me, at the courtin’ gate.
The fire-leet casts thy shadow
Owerthwart the kitchen wall;
It’s dancin’ up an’ doon, lass,
My heart does dance an’ all.
Three times I’ve gien oor love-call
To bring my bird to t’ nest.
When wilt a coom, my throstle,
An’ shelter on my breast?
O coom an’ meet me, Mally,
O coom an’ greet me, Mally,
Meet me, greet me, at the courtin’ gate.
I’ve wrowt all t’ day at t’ harvist,
But ivery hour seemed sweet,
Acause I thowt I’d haud thee
Clasped i’ my airms to-neet.
Black Bess she raked aside me
An’ leuked at me an’ smiled;
I telled her I loved Mally,
It made her despert wild.
O coom an’ meet me, Mally,
O coom an’ greet me, Mally,
Meet me, greet me, at the courtin’ gate.
Thy shadow’s gone frae t’ kitchen,
T’ hoose-door is oppened wide.
It’s she, my viewly Mally,
The lass I’ll mak my bride.
White lilies in her garden,
Fling oot your scent i’ t’ air,
An’ mingle breath wi’ t’ roses
I’ve gethered for her hair.
O let me haud thee, Mally,
O let me faud thee, Mally,
Haud thee, faud thee, at the courtin’ gate.
Fieldfares
Fieldfares, bonny fieldfares, feedin’ ’mang the bent,
Wheer the sun is shinin’ through yon cloud’s wide rent,
Welcoom back to t’ moorlands,
Frae Norway’s fells an’ shorelands,
Welcoom back to Whardill,[[1]] now October’s ommost spent.
Noisy, chackin’ fieldfares, weel I ken your cry,
When i’ flocks you’re sweepin’ ower the hills sae high:
Oft on trees you gethers,
Preenin’ out your feathers,
An’ I’m fain to see your coats as blue as t’ summer sky.
Curlews, larks an’ tewits,[[2]] all have gone frae t’ moors,
Frost has nipped i’ t’ garden all my bonny floors;
Roses, lilies, pansies,
Stocks an’ yallow tansies
Fade away, an’ soon the leaves ’ll clutter[[3]] doon i’ shoors.
Here i’ bed I’m liggin’, liggin’ day by day
Hay-cart whemmled ower,[[4]] and underneath I lay;
I was nobbut seven,
Soon I’ll be eleven;
Fower times have I seen you fieldfares coom an’ flee away.
You’ll be gone when t’ swallow bigs his nest o’ loam,
April winds ’ll blaw you far ower t’ saut sea foam;
You’ll not wait while May-time,
Summer dews an’ hay-time;
Lang afore our gerse is mawn your mates ’ll call you home.
Fieldfares, liltin’[[5]] fieldfares, you’ll noan sing to me.
Why sud you bide silent while you’ve crossed the sea?
Are you brokken-hearted,
Sin frae home you’ve parted,
Leavin’ far frae Yorkshire moors your nests i’ t’ tall fir tree?
Storm-cock sings at new-yeer, swingin’ on yon esh,
Sings his loudest song when t’ winds do beat an’ lesh;
Robins, throstles follow,
An’ when cooms the swalloww,
All the birds ’ll chirm to see our woodlands green an’ nesh.
Fieldfares, bonny fieldfares, I’ll be gone ’fore you;
I’m sae weak an’ dowly, hands are thin an’ blue.
Pain is growin’ stranger,
As the neets get langer.
Will you miss my face at whiles, when t’ owd yeer’s changed to t’ new?
[1] Wharfdale.
[2] Peewits.
[3] Huddle.
[4] Upset.
[5] Light-hearted.