The nettle

Tall grows the nettle by the hedgeway side

& bye the old barn end they shade the wall
In sunshine nodding to the angry tide
Of winds that winnows bye—these one & all
Makes up the harmony of Spring—& all
That passes feel a sudden love for flowers
They look so green—& when the soft showers fall
 They grow so fast—Dock Burdocks Henbane—all
Who loves not wild flowers bye the old stone wall

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The blushing morn

O now the crimson east its fire streak burning 


Tempts me to wander neath the blushing morn 


Winding the zig zag lane turning & turning 


As winds the crooked fences wilderd thorn 


O wheres the eye can gaze upon the dawn 
 

That flushes yon blue sky of cloudless heaven 


& gilds the prospect round below—what eye 


Can look upon the beautys morn has given 


& look unmovd, sure neer a soul thats living 


The soul must be extinct who passes bye 


I cannot pass the very bramble weeping 


Neath dewy tear drops that its spears surround 


Like harlots mockery on the wan cheek creeping 


Gilding the poison that is meant to wound 


I cannot pass the bent ere gales have shaken 


Its transient crowning off each point adorning 


But all the feelings of my soul awaken 


To own the witcheries of most lovley morning

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A motley crew

The fields now claim them where a motley crew
Of old & young their daily tasks pursue
The barleys beard is grey & wheat is brown
& wakens toil betimes to leave the town
The reapers leave their beds before the sun
& gleaners follow in the toils begun
To pick the littered ear the reaper leaves
& glean in open fields among the sheaves

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Farewell to the cornfield

Farewell to the cornfield & meadow so green
Farewell to the white thorn & willow & Jean
Farewell to the haunts O' her childhood & mine
Where green banks had peace & my Jean looked divine
Were parted & may be for ever we part
Still Jeanie shall be the choice girl of my heart

Farewell to the cornfield & meadow so green
Farewell to the white thorn & willow & Jean
The meadows will be just as green when Im gone
To the eyes o' my Jean while my heart like a stone
Lies cold in my breast while the scene I survey
To think of to morrow that bears me away

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The Lineian arrangement

 

A Ploughmans skill at Classification after the Lineian arrangement

‘Go wipe your shoes’ says mistress shrew
To Hodge who up for's dinner drew
‘'Tis'n't fitting that such hogs as you
‘Shou'd come into a house’
‘Why not’ says hodge—‘if thats the case
‘I cant come in a better place
‘For surely there is no disgrace

For hogs to herd wi' Sows

Friend take my advice...

Friend take my advice would you do yourself good,

& get your house custom & peace?

Take down from that doorpost the billet of Wood

& hang up your Wife in its place.

A Simile

A mushroom its goodness but shortly endures

Decaying as soon as its peeping —

Woman much like them — for its known very Well

That they seldom get better by keeping

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Harvest home

As rests warm rapture rousd the rustics lay
The thread bare ballad from each quavering tongue
As ‘peggy bond’ or the ‘sweet month of may’
As how he joyd to hear each ‘good old song’
That on nights pausing ear did echo loud & strong
The muse might sing too for he well did know
The freaks & plays that harvest home doth end
How the last load is crownd wi boughs & how
Wi floating ribbons diznd at their end
The swains & maids wi fork & rake attend
& how the children on the load delight
Wi shouts of harvest home their throats to rend
& how the dames peep out to mark the sight
& all the feats that crown the harvest supper night

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Ducks & Ducklings

Among the tawny tasselled reed 
The ducks & ducklings float and feed
With head oft dabbing in the flood 
They fish all day the weedy mud
& tumbler-like are bobbing there
Heels topsy-turvy in the air
Then up and quack and down they go
Heels over head again below

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Photo by my friend John Abbott