Th'Owd Verses've T'Dales

(Translation: Traditional Poetry of Yorkshire)

The Milkin'-Time

J. H. Dixon

Meet me at the fowd at the milkin'-time,
Whan the dusky sky is gowd at the milkin'-time;
Whan the fog is slant wi' dew,
An' the clocks go hummin' thro'
The wick-sets an' the branches of the owmerin' yew.

Weel ye knaw the hour of the milkin'-time,
The girt bell sounds frev t' tower at the milkin'-time;
Bud as gowd sooin turns to gray,
An' I cannot have delay,
Dunnot linger by the way at the milkin'-time.

Ye'll find a lass at's true at the milkin'-time,
Shoo thinks of nane bud you at the milkin'-time;
Bud my fadder's gittin' owd,
An' he's gien a bit to scowd,
Whan I's ower lang at the fowd at the milkin'-time.

Happen ye're afeard at the milkin'-time;
Mebbe loike ye've heerd at the milkin'-time
The green fowk shak their feet,
Whan t' moon on Heeside's breet,
An' it chances so to-neet, at the milkin'-time.

There's yan, an' he knaws weel whan it's milkin'-time;
He'd feace the varra de'il at the milkin'-time.
He'd nut be yan to wait
Tho' a bargues war i' t' gate,
If the word I'd nobbud say 't at the milkin'-time.