Classic Poem

The mist rauk is hanging
Over turnip fields green
The wood gate is banging
Where hunters are seen
The brown leaves are dancing
About on the green
The horses are prancing
Where the hounds hurry in

Where Lucy stands knocking
Her clogs at the gate
Bright shoes & white stocking
Are killing of late
Wi cotton or silk on
What man could forbear
Where Lucy sits milking
To kiss if he dare

The Maples turn yellow
Hazels crimson & brown
Oaks still keep their colour
Popples fade & fall down
When a milking goes Lucy
Where woodbramble weaves
T[he] winds wont excuse ye
But pelts her wi leaves

On her new gown and bonnet
They patter and fall
Leaving no stain upon it
They pat and thats all
Crows quawk & swoop over
Like chimney sweep crows
Lucy milks under cover
Nor sullies her clothes.

Home rambles young Lucy
With her milk buckets twain
Oer grass fields were dews be
And rut brimming lane
She sings songs till sunday
When she offers her vows
And in drab frock on monday
Goes milking the cows.