A Bit O' Th' Owden Time Poem by William Baron

We're ramblin' reawnd th' owd spot agen,—
Th' owd favourite spot uv o';
Wheer oft we've towd eawr saycrets, lass,
I' whispers soft an' low.
It's twenty year, or varra near,
Sin' we wur here afooar;
It's like a bit o' th' owden time
to walk th' owd greawnd once mooar.

Bi th' luvvers' oak i' th' meadow yon,
We've rambled mony a neet;
An' th' darkness seemed to matter nowt,
Theaw med it seem so breet.
We're just as true as e'er we wur,
Tho' age creeps on us fast;
Sooa let's be couriers once agen,
An' talk a bit o'er th' past.

It's strange heaw bygone days rise up,—
'' They're forged on memory's chen ;
'For walkin' here wi' thee to-neet,
Aw feel quite young agen.
Aw see thee as theaw used to be;
I’ o' thi beauty rare
For not a fleawer on th' countryside,
Wur hawf so sweet or fair.

Aw'st ne'er forget thoose happy days,
Altho' they've long bin gone ;
We pictured th' joys o' th' futur' then,
As nooan but luvvers con.
Mi heart beat wild wi' ecstasy
When theaw wur i' mi seet;
But, oh ! heaw sad it used to feel,
When th' partin' coom at neet.

Th' owd windmill's o' i' ruins neaw,
'At stood on th' top o' th' hill;
Eh ! lots o' times we've gone that way,
When o's bin quate an' still.
An' strollin' theer one summer morn,
O'er th' meadows weet wi' dew,
Theaw promised 'at theaw'd share mi joys,
An' share mi sorrows too.

Sooa th' weddin' day coom on at last
An' we wur mon an' wife;
An' th' solemn vows theaw med that day
Theaw's allus kept throo life.
Throo thick an' thin theaw's played thi part,
An' bin a helpmate true;
An' smiled to cheer mi heavy heart
When thine's bin heavy too.

We're ramblin' reawnd th' owd spot agen,—
Th' owd favourite spot uv o'—
Wheer oft we've towd eawr saycrets, lass,
I' wispers soft an' low.
We're just as true as e'er we wur,
Tho' age creeps on us fast;
Sooa let's be couriers once agen,
An, talk a bit o'er th' past.