Ay, I'm a ranter, so at least fowks say;
Happen they'd tell t' same tale o' t' postle Paul.
I've ranted fifty yeer, coom first o' May,
An' niver changed my gospil through 'em all.
...
A song I sing o' t' Yorkshire dales,
That winnd frae t' moors to t' sea;
Frae t' breast o' t' fells, wheer t' cloud-rack sails,
Their becks flow merrily.
...
Total 5 Sweet Poems by Frederic William Moorman
Top 10 most used topics by Frederic William Moorman
Split the Lark—and you'll find the Music—
Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled—
Scantilly dealt to the Summer Morning
Saved for your Ear when Lutes be old.