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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=412479" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Girt Woak Tree</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The girt woak tree that's in the dell !<br>There's noo tree I do love so well;<br>Vor times an' times when I wer young<br>I there've a-climb'd, an' there've a-zwung,<br>An' pick'd the eacorns green, a-shed<br>In wrestlen storms from his broad head,<br>An' down below's the cloty brook<br>Where I did vish with line an' hook,<br>An' beat, in playsome dips and zwims,<br>The foamy stream, wi' white-skinn'd lim's.<br>An' there my mother nimbly shot<br>Her knitten-needles, as she zot<br>At evenen down below the wide<br>Woak's head, wi' father at her zide.<br>An' I've a-played wi' many a bwoy,<br>That's now a man an' gone awoy;<br>Zoo I do like noo tree so well<br>'S the girt woak tree that's in the dell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">An' there, in leater years, I roved<br>Wi' thik poor maid I fondly lov'd,-<br>The maid too feair to die so soon,-<br>When evenen twilight, or the moon,<br>Cast light enough 'ithin the pleace<br>To show the smiles upon her feace,<br>Wi' eyes so clear's the glassy pool,<br>An' lips an' cheaks so soft as wool.<br>There han' in han', wi' bosoms warm<br>Wi' love that burned but thought noo harm,<br>Below the wide-bough's tree we past<br>The happy hours that went too vast;<br>An' though she'll never be my wife,<br>She's still my leaden star o' life.<br>She's gone: an' she've a-left to me<br>Her token in the girt woak tree;<br>Zoo I do love noo tree so well<br>'S the girt woak tree that's in the dell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">An' oh ! mid never ax nor hook<br>Be brought to spweil his steately look;<br>Nor ever roun' his ribby zides<br>Mid cattle rub ther heairy hides;<br>Nor pigs rout up his turf, but keep<br>His lwonesome sheade vor harmless sheep;<br>An' let en grow, an' let en spread,<br>An' let en live when I be dead.<br>But oh! if men should come an' vell<br>The girt woak tree that's in the dell,<br>An' build his planks 'ithin the zide<br>O' zome girt ship to plough the tide,<br>Then, life or death ! I'd goo to sea,<br>A-sailen wi' the girt woak tree<br>An' I upon his planks would stand,<br>An' die a-fighten vor the land,-<br>The land so dear,-the land so free,-<br>The land that bore the girt woak tree;<br>Vor I do love noo tree so well<br>'S the girt woak tree that's in the dell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ingeborg+Bachmann">Ingeborg Bachmann</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=412479" data-title="The Girt Woak Tree de Ingeborg Bachmann" data-description="The girt woak tree that's in the dell !
There's noo tree I do love so well;
Vor times an' times when I wer young
I there've a-climb'd, an' there've a-zwung,
An' pick'd the eacorns green, a-shed
In wrestlen storms from his broad head,
An' down belo..."></div>
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