The Mossy Green Lane

The cock chafer hums down the rut rifted lane
Where the wild roses hang and the woodbines entwine
And the shrill squeaking Bat makes his circles again
Round the side of the Tavern close by the sign
The sun is gone down like a wearysome queen
In curtains the richest that ever were seen


The dew falls on flowers in a mist o' small rain
And beating the hedges low fly the barn owls
The moon wi her horns is low peeping again
And deep in the forest the dog badger howls
In best bib and tucker then wanders my Jane
By the side o' the woodbines which grow in the lane


On a sweet summer Eve tide I walk by her side
In green hood the daiseys have shut up their eyes
Young Jenny is handsome wi'out any pride
Her eyes oh how bright! have the hue o' the skies
Oh tis pleasant to walk by the side o' my Jane
At the close o' the day down the mossy green lane


We stand by the brook by the gate and the stile
While the even star hangs out his lamp in the sky
And on his calm face dwells a sweet sunny smile
While her soul fondly speaks through the light o' her eye
Sweet are these moments while waiting for Jane
Tis her footsteps I hear coming down the green lane.
Rate this poem: 


No reviews yet.