by William Barnes
Oh! there be angels evermwore,
A-passèn onward by the door,
A-zent to teäke our jaÿs, or come
To bring us zome--O Meärianne.
Though doors be shut, an' bars be stout,
Noo bolted door can keep em out;
But they wull leäve us ev'ry thing
They have to bring--My Meärianne.
An' zoo the days a-stealèn by,
Wi' zuns a-ridèn drough the sky,
Do bring us things to leäve us sad,
Or meäke us glad--O Meärianne.
The day that's mild, the day that's stern,
Do teäke, in stillness, each his turn;
An' evils at their worst mid mend,
Or even end--My Meärianne.
But still, if we can only bear
Wi' faïth an' love, our païn an' ceäre,
We shan't vind missèn jaÿs a-lost,
Though we be crost--O Meärianne.
But all a-took to heav'n, an' stow'd
Where we can't weäste em on the road,
As we do wander to an' fro,
Down here below--My Meärianne.
But there be jaÿs I'd soonest choose
To keep, vrom them that I must lose;
Your workzome hands to help my tweil,
Your cheerful smile--O Meärianne.
The Zunday bells o' yonder tow'r,
The moonlight sheädes o' my own bow'r,
An' rest avore our vier-zide,
At evenèn-tide--My Meärianne.
Last updated January 14, 2019