Classic Poem

Cwold Harbour

O blow, reäven wind,
My wold walls be stout,
An' I be within em,
An' you be without.
I don't know a pleäce
Where you can break drough;
You be a-blowen,
An' I'm in the lew.

In the lew o' my house,
An' the lew ov a cliff,
Aye, the lewth ov a knap
That is ever so stiff;
An' tho not on ground
Where mid vall the tree tops,
In the lew on the west
Ov a thick bushy copse.

You mid whistle in wood
Drough a woodpecker's hole,
Or frighten the owl
In a hollow tree's boll;
But you won't wrest a dead tree
As if 'twer a bush,
Vor you won't vind much broadness
Ov zide vor to push.

'Tis good in your rage
To be nessled up warm
In a snugly lew house
An' not veel the storm:
But there we should think
Upon others abrode,
The sailor at sea,
An' the man on the road.

Vor hard to the heart,
O 'tis hard to the death,
To die vrom the wind
That we have vor life's breath.English