Upon a Wherry

So say my heart be sinked
hay not a worry

or die from waste or want
in faith or lack
none you must prayer me

nor yet wear black

muster you green and all
and say I fell at field
not bootless
then would at once upon a wherry

long the still cut
stern go back

aye yet I would
aslow and soundly shod
be fenned and levelled

Effen I squannerd my living
at ale and game
what oft?

I seen a midwif once
do blown a life in em and marvelled it
and I ems father

There my horizon then
I am not sorry

Philip Quinlan                                

If you have any comments on this poem, Philip Quinlan  would be pleased to hear from you.