Ammon Wrigley - "To a Moorland Lass on her Eighteenth Birthday"

The following is a transcription of a work by Saddleworth poet Ammon Wrigley (1861-1946).

To a Moorland Lass on her Eighteenth Birthday

Here’s to you Jennie Morison, a year has gone by,
And your face has grown fairer and bluer your eye,
The heather moon shone o’er the moors at your birth,
And gave you a beauty more of heaven than earth.
When you go through the fields with the wind in your hair,
The wild flowers are wishing they were half so fair,
And the grasses spring up till they’re high as your knee,
When they feel your glad feet roaming over the lea.
In the warm days of June when you're out in the hay
In your straw coloured gown and your sunbonnet gay,
Then the rakers waste time when there’s plenty to do,
For how can they make hay in a meadow with you?
Though skies be grey clouded and the sun doth not shine,
When you go a-roaming it is sure to keep fine;
And the farm women say on a harvesting morn,
“Tis young Jennie Morison that ripens the corn.”
The wild heather that blooms on the moorlands so high
Grows lovelier than ever when you wander by;
And when sheep are well woolled then the shepherd folk say
“Yon lass Jennie Morison has been o’er this way.”
To church on a Sunday with your mother you fare,
All the countryside lads are sure to be there,
A fig for the parson and his sermon so dree,
Tis young Jennie Morison the lads go to see.
When I sit with my pipe and I look in the wine,
I can see your blue eyes and the light in them shine,
And I dally and sip for how can I drink up,
When bonnie Jennie Morison looks from the cup?
Here’s to you, Jennie Morison, August is here,
With the heather moon rising to look at you, dear;
To see you and love you, and I pray it will give
You joy and white roses all the years that you live.

Ammon Wrigley - "To a Moorland Lass on her Eighteenth Birthday"


This page was last modified on 14 August 2018 and has been edited by Dave Pattern.

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