The Blackbird

Ov all the birds upon the wing Between the zunny showers o' spring, Vor all the lark, a-swingen high, Mid zing below a cloudless sky, An' sparrows, clust'ren roun' the bough, Mid chatter to the men at plough, The blackbird, whisslen in among The boughs, do zing the gayest zong. Vor we do hear the blackbird zing His sweetest ditties in the spring, When nippen win's noo mwore do blow Vrom northern skies, wi' sleet or snow, But dreve light doust along between The leane-zide hedges, thick an' green; An' zoo the blackbird in among The boughs do zing the gayest zong. 'Tis blithe, wi' newly-opened eyes, To zee the mornen's ruddy skies; Or, out a-haulen frith or lops Vrom new-pleshed hedge or new-velled copse, To rest at noon in primrwose beds Below the white-barked woak-trees' heads; But there's noo time, the whole day long, Lik' evenen wi' the blackbird's zong. Vor when my work is all a-done Avore the zetten o' the zun, Then blushen Jeane do walk along The hedge to meet me in the drong, An' stay till all is dim an' dark Bezides the ashen tree's white bark; An' all bezides the blackbird's shrill An' runnen evenen-whissle's still. An' there in bwoyhood I did rove Wi' pryen eyes along the drove To vind the nest the blackbird meade O' grass-stalks in the high bough's sheade; Or climb aloft, wi' clingen knees, Vor crows' aggs up in swayen trees, While frightened blackbirds down below Did chatter o' their little foe. An' zoo there's noo pleace lik' the drong, Where I do hear the blackbird's zong.