Jockey And Jenny

A poem by John Clare

"Will Jockey come to-day, mither?
Will Jockey come to-day?
He's taen sic likings to my brither
He's sure to come the day."
"Haud yer tongue, lass, mind your rockie;
But th'other day ye wore a pockie.
What can ye mean to think o' Jockey?
Ye've bin content the season long,
Ye'd best keep to your harmless song."

"Ye'll soon see falling tears, mither,
If love's a sin in youth;
He leuks to me, and talks wi' brither,
But I know the secret truth.
He's courted me the year, mither;
Judge not the matter queer, mither;
Ye're a' the while as dear, mither,
As ye've been the Summer long.
I cannot sing my song.

I'll hear nae farder preaching, mither;
I'se bin a child ower lang;
He led me frae the teaching, mither,
Ann wherefore did he wrang?
I ken he often tauks wi' brither;
I neither look at ane or 'tither;
You ken as well as I, mither,
There's nae love in my song,
Though I've sang the Summer long."

"Nae, dinna be sae saucy, lassie,
I may be kenned ye ill.
If love has taen the hold, lassie,
There's nae cure i' the pill."
"Nae, I dinna want a pill, mither;
He leuks at me and tauks to ither;
And twice we've bin at kirk thegither.
I'm 's well now as a' Summer long,
But somehew cauna sing a song.

He comes and talks to brither, mither,
But leuks his thoughts at me;
He always says gude neet to brither,
And looks gude neet to me."
"Lassie, ye seldom vexed yer mither;
Ye're ower too fair a flower to wither;
So be ye are to come thegither,
I'll be nae damp to yer new claes;
Cheer up and sing o'er 'Loggan braes.'"

Jockey comes o' Sabbath days,
His face is not a face o'er brassy;
Her mither sits to praise the claes;
Holds him her box; to win the lassie
He taks a pinch, and greets wi' granny,
And helps his chair up nearer Jenny,
And vows he loves her muir than any.
She thinks her mither seldom wrong,
And "Loggan braes" is her daily song.

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