Sunday, 17 July 2011

Oh, Luk! Eeyt’s Doorh’m Rayne und Rayne… und Sonne?

Und aunward thoos we travailled oop ta Doorh’m
Whereso we foond the rayne the restte of Angleland
Had lorst. We soaked oop mutch but mutch was leaft,
For magick nauw, as if it was forsooth, an Raynebowe
Appeyared, thauwgh not an Amy Raynbowe, naw,
A raynebowe sutch as neever ‘fore bin seen,
All northern, lykke, and gyante lykke the arche
Which myghte be playced aboove an entranced wayye
To Paradise or sim’lar. Then, we stooped
To gawple mewte amayzent at the syghtte
Of thees mirackellous, divynne, yewnique
Und colour-splendour’d appareytion, flowteeng
Ackrauss the firmament aboove. Watt corght
Mine eye und traipped me all-surrayndered thourght
Was thees majestic raynebowe’s neeyt reflecktion
Alawng the length of sea, whitch mayde the sea
Joost lyke an layke een scale. The sea? An layke?
It wurze, I swayer, exacktly lyke sum traifling
Uffair of man-mayde siyze.
                                                       The raynebowe endid
Auw starrted in thysse Northish sea. It rauwse,
A magick arck ackraurse the eyven skye,
Und multi-colour’d splendiful all flye.

There’s northyngge eeqwual to the syghtte A saure
That naurthurn soommer yvenyngge. You’d huv nort
Buleeyved  eeyt, nauw, oonless you’d beeyn u weettness
Lyke witness A waurse fortyooned be indeeyde.

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