Читать книгу Songs of the West - S. (Sabine) Baring-Gould - Страница 7

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H.F.S.

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1

Upon a Sunday morning, when Spring was in its prime,

Along the Church-lane tripping, I heard the Church-bells chime,

And there encountered Reuben, astride upon the stile,

He blocked the way, so saucy, upon his lips a smile.

2

Upon a Sunday morning, there came a rush of bells,

The wind was music-laden, in changeful fall and swells;

He would not let me over, he held, he made me stay,

And promise I would meet him again at close of day.

3

Upon a Sunday evening, the ringers in the tower,

Were practising their changes, they rang for full an hour;

And Reuben by me walking, would never let me go,

Until a Yes I answered, he would not take a No.

4

Again a Sunday morning, and Reuben stands by me,

Not now in lane, but chancel, where all the folks may see.

A golden ring he offers, as to his side I cling,

O happy Sunday morning, for us the Church-bells ring.