FieldfaresFieldfares, bonny fieldfares, feedin’ ’mang the bent,Wheer the sun is shinin’ through yon cloud’s wide rent,Welcoom back to t’ moorlands,Frae Norway’s fells an’ shorelands,Welcoom back to Whardill,[1]now October’s ommost spent.Noisy, chackin’ fieldfares, weel I ken your cry,When i’ flocks you’re sweepin’ ower the hills sae high:Oft on trees you gethers,Preenin’ out your feathers,An’ I’m fain to see your coats as blue as t’ summer sky.Curlews, larks an’ tewits,[2]all have gone frae t’ moors,Frost has nipped i’ t’ garden all my bonny floors;Roses, lilies, pansies,Stocks an’ yallow tansiesFade away, an’ soon the leaves ’ll clutter[3]doon i’ shoors.Here i’ bed I’m liggin’, liggin’ day by dayHay-cart whemmled ower,[4]and underneath I lay;I was nobbut seven,Soon I’ll be eleven;Fower times have I seen you fieldfares coom an’ flee away.You’ll be gone when t’ swallow bigs his nest o’ loam,April winds ’ll blaw you far ower t’ saut sea foam;You’ll not wait while May-time,Summer dews an’ hay-time;Lang afore our gerse is mawn your mates ’ll call you home.Fieldfares, liltin’[5]fieldfares, you’ll noan sing to me.Why sud you bide silent while you’ve crossed the sea?Are you brokken-hearted,Sin frae home you’ve parted,Leavin’ far frae Yorkshire moors your nests i’ t’ tall fir tree?Storm-cock sings at new-yeer, swingin’ on yon esh,Sings his loudest song when t’ winds do beat an’ lesh;Robins, throstles follow,An’ when cooms the swalloww,All the birds ’ll chirm to see our woodlands green an’ nesh.Fieldfares, bonny fieldfares, I’ll be gone ’fore you;I’m sae weak an’ dowly, hands are thin an’ blue.Pain is growin’ stranger,As the neets get langer.Will you miss my face at whiles, when t’ owd yeer’s changed to t’ new?[1]Wharfdale.[2]Peewits.[3]Huddle.[4]Upset.[5]Light-hearted.
Fieldfares, bonny fieldfares, feedin’ ’mang the bent,Wheer the sun is shinin’ through yon cloud’s wide rent,Welcoom back to t’ moorlands,Frae Norway’s fells an’ shorelands,Welcoom back to Whardill,[1]now October’s ommost spent.Noisy, chackin’ fieldfares, weel I ken your cry,When i’ flocks you’re sweepin’ ower the hills sae high:Oft on trees you gethers,Preenin’ out your feathers,An’ I’m fain to see your coats as blue as t’ summer sky.Curlews, larks an’ tewits,[2]all have gone frae t’ moors,Frost has nipped i’ t’ garden all my bonny floors;Roses, lilies, pansies,Stocks an’ yallow tansiesFade away, an’ soon the leaves ’ll clutter[3]doon i’ shoors.Here i’ bed I’m liggin’, liggin’ day by dayHay-cart whemmled ower,[4]and underneath I lay;I was nobbut seven,Soon I’ll be eleven;Fower times have I seen you fieldfares coom an’ flee away.You’ll be gone when t’ swallow bigs his nest o’ loam,April winds ’ll blaw you far ower t’ saut sea foam;You’ll not wait while May-time,Summer dews an’ hay-time;Lang afore our gerse is mawn your mates ’ll call you home.Fieldfares, liltin’[5]fieldfares, you’ll noan sing to me.Why sud you bide silent while you’ve crossed the sea?Are you brokken-hearted,Sin frae home you’ve parted,Leavin’ far frae Yorkshire moors your nests i’ t’ tall fir tree?Storm-cock sings at new-yeer, swingin’ on yon esh,Sings his loudest song when t’ winds do beat an’ lesh;Robins, throstles follow,An’ when cooms the swalloww,All the birds ’ll chirm to see our woodlands green an’ nesh.Fieldfares, bonny fieldfares, I’ll be gone ’fore you;I’m sae weak an’ dowly, hands are thin an’ blue.Pain is growin’ stranger,As the neets get langer.Will you miss my face at whiles, when t’ owd yeer’s changed to t’ new?
[1]Wharfdale.
[2]Peewits.
[3]Huddle.
[4]Upset.
[5]Light-hearted.