Easter Zunday
Last Easter Jim put on his blue
Frock cwoat, the vu'st time-vier new;
Wi' yollow buttons all o' brass,
That glitter'd in the zun lik' glass;
An' pok'd 'ithin the button-hole
A tutty he'd a-begg'd or stole.
A span-new wes-co't, too, he wore,
Wi' yellow stripes all down avore;
An' tied his breeches' lags below
The knee, wi' ribbon in a bow;
An' drow'd his kitty-boots azide,
An' put his laggens on, an' tied
His shoes wi' strings two vingers wide,
Because 'twer Easter Zunday.
An' after mornen church wer out
He come back hwome, an' stroll'd about
All down the vields, an' drough the leane,
Wi' sister Kit an' cousin Jeane,
A-turnen proudly to their view
His yollow breast an' back o' blue.
The lambs did play, the grounds wer green,
The trees did bud, the zun did sheen;
The lark did zing below the sky,
An' roads wer all a-blown so dry,
As if the zummer wer begun;
An' he had sich a bit o' fun!
He meade the maidens squeal an' run,
Because 'twer Easter Zunday.
poem by William Barnes
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Related quotes
Easter Zunday
Last Easter Jim put on his blue
Frock cwoat, the vu'st time-vier new;
Wi' yollow buttons all o' brass,
That glitter'd in the zun lik' glass;
An' pok'd 'ithin the button-hole
A tutty he'd a-begg'd or stole.
A span-new wes-co't, too, he wore,
Wi' yellow stripes all down avore;
An' tied his breeches' lags below
The knee, wi' ribbon in a bow;
An' drow'd his kitty-boots azide,
An' put his laggens on, an' tied
His shoes wi' strings two vingers wide,
Because 'twer Easter Zunday.
An' after mornen church wer out
He come back hwome, an' stroll'd about
All down the vields, an' drough the leane,
Wi' sister Kit an' cousin Jeane,
A-turnen proudly to their view
His yollow breast an' back o' blue.
The lambs did play, the grounds wer green,
The trees did bud, the zun did sheen;
The lark did zing below the sky,
An' roads wer all a-blown so dry,
As if the zummer wer begun;
An' he had sich a bit o' fun!
He meade the maidens squeal an' run,
Because 'twer Easter Zunday.
poem by Ingeborg Bachmann
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Easter Bunny
Easter Bunny
Come in a hurry
I want my Easter egg
Easter Bunny
Please don't tarry
Remember what I said
Paint my egg blue
With little brushes too
And add a little red to it
'Cause I won't mind if you did
Put my egg in the basket
With a little red ribbon
Put it in your jacket
And bring it to London
poem by Jacqueline AntwiDanso
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The Geate A-Vallen To
In the zunsheen of our zummers
Wi' the hay time now a-come,
How busy wer we out a-vield
Wi' vew a-left at hwome,
When waggons rumbled out ov yard
Red wheeled, wi' body blue,
And back behind ‘em loudly slamm'd
The geate a'vallen to.
Drough daysheen ov how many years
The geate ha' now a-swung
Behind the veet o' vull-grown men
And vootsteps of the young.
Drough years o' days it swung to us
Behind each little shoe,
As we tripped lightly on avore
The geate a-vallen to.
In evenen time o' starry night
How mother zot at hwome,
And kept her bleazen vier bright
Till father should ha' come,
An' how she quicken'd up and smiled
An' stirred her vier anew,
To hear the trampen ho'ses' steps
An' geate a-vallen to.
There's moon-sheen now in nights o' fall
When leaves be brown vrom green,
When, to the slammen o' the geate,
Our Jenny's ears be keen,
When the wold dog do wag his tail,
An' Jean could tell to who,
As he do come in drough the geate,
The geate a-vallen to.
An' oft do come a saddened hour
When there must goo away
One well-beloved to our heart's core,
Vor long, perhaps vor aye:
An' oh! it is a touchen thing
The loven heart must rue,
To hear behind his last farewell
The geate a-vallen to.
poem by Ingeborg Bachmann
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The Geate A-Vallen To
In the zunsheen of our zummers
Wi’ the hay time now a-come,
How busy wer we out a-vield
Wi’ vew a-left at hwome,
When waggons rumbled out ov yard
Red wheeled, wi’ body blue,
And back behind ‘em loudly slamm’d
The geate a’vallen to.
Drough daysheen ov how many years
The geate ha’ now a-swung
Behind the veet o’ vull-grown men
And vootsteps of the young.
Drough years o’ days it swung to us
Behind each little shoe,
As we tripped lightly on avore
The geate a-vallen to.
In evenen time o’ starry night
How mother zot at hwome,
And kept her bleazen vier bright
Till father should ha’ come,
An' how she quicken'd up and smiled
An' stirred her vier anew,
To hear the trampen ho'ses’ steps
An' geate a-vallen to.
There’s moon-sheen now in nights o’ fall
When leaves be brown vrom green,
When, to the slammen o' the geate,
Our Jenny’s ears be keen,
When the wold dog do wag his tail,
An' Jean could tell to who,
As he do come in drough the geate,
The geate a-vallen to.
An' oft do come a saddened hour
When there must goo away
One well-beloved to our heart’s core,
Vor long, perhaps vor aye:
An' oh! it is a touchen thing
The loven heart must rue,
To hear behind his last farewell
The geate a-vallen to.
poem by William Barnes
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White Angel the Easter Rabbit
Out of a lovely fantasy…..,
She appeared one Springtime day…..,
And made our world……,
So happy in every way……,
It was a vision so wondrous……,
As we colored our eggs…..,
For the Easter Holiday
White Angel, The Easter Rabbit…..,
Brought sunshine to our lives…..,
When it came to joy we had it…..,
White Angel, The Easter Rabbit…..,
She’d hop, hop, hop….,
All day long…..,
Be dancin’ around……,
And singin’ a song…..,
As Easter came so merrily…..,
She was so much fun for us to see……,
White Angel, The Easter Rabbit…..,
Brought sunshine to our lives…..,
Lovin’ her was a tireless habit……,
White Angel, The Easter Rabbit…..,
But poof just like each night and day……,
Her visit soon had to end …..,
So she hop, hop, hopped on her way……,
Off to visit her fairytale friends……,
As we sadly bid farewell to her…….,
She said, “Come on now, don’t cry…..,
I’ll be back again some Easter Day”…..,
White Angel, The Easter Rabbit…..,
Brought sunshine to our lives…..,
When it came to joy we had it…..,
White Angel, The Easter Rabbit…..,
Pure white gold in 24 karat…..,
White Angel, The Easter Rabbit….! ! !
(2011)
poem by Trade Martin
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Easter song: 2011
Easter
when Christians come together
to celebrate Christ
rising from death,
giving donations to the church
and rather are gossiping,
bragging with their new cars
than to be interested
in the God of the universe.
Easter
when cars drive past
with people on holiday
Hansel, Gretchen, mom and dad
lay somewhere next to the road
either dead or maimed
or are gambolling at the sea.
Easter
on the trees autumn leaves are shining
in colours of yellow, brown and rusty-brown
and the sun is loosing its heat,
still the entire world is searching
for a redeemer who brings solutions
while crime, violence and pain
is circling out wider and wider.
[Reference: Paaslied: 1985 (Easter song: 1985) by Lina Spies.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Blackbird
Ov all the birds upon the wing
Between the zunny showers o' spring,-
Vor all the lark, a-swingen high,
Mid zing below a cloudless sky,
An' sparrows, clust'ren roun' the bough,
Mid chatter to the men at plough, -
The blackbird, whisslen in among
The boughs, do zing the gayest zong.
Vor we do hear the blackbird zing
His sweetest ditties in the spring,
When nippen win's noo mwore do blow
Vrom northern skies, wi' sleet or snow,
But dreve light doust along between
The leane-zide hedges, thick an' green;
An' zoo the blackbird in among
The boughs do zing the gayest zong.
'Tis blithe, wi' newly-opened eyes,
To zee the mornen's ruddy skies;
Or, out a-haulen frith or lops
Vrom new-pleshed hedge or new-velled copse,
To rest at noon in primrwose beds
Below the white-barked woak-trees' heads;
But there's noo time, the whole day long,
Lik' evenen wi' the blackbird's zong.
Vor when my work is all a-done
Avore the zetten o' the zun,
Then blushen Jeane do walk along
The hedge to meet me in the drong,
An' stay till all is dim an' dark
Bezides the ashen tree's white bark;
An' all bezides the blackbird's shrill
An' runnen evenen-whissle's still.
An' there in bwoyhood I did rove
Wi' pryen eyes along the drove
To vind the nest the blackbird meade
O' grass-stalks in the high bough's sheade;
Or climb aloft, wi' clingen knees,
Vor crows' aggs up in swayen trees,
While frightened blackbirds down below
Did chatter o' their little foe.
An' zoo there's noo pleace lik' the drong,
Where I do hear the blackbird's zong.
poem by William Barnes
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Easter Parade
In your easter bonnet, with all the frills upon it,
Youll be the grandest lady in the easter parade.
Ill be all in clover and when they look you over,
Ill be the proudest fellow in the easter parade.
On the avenue, fifth avenue, the photographers will snap us,
And youll find that youre in the rotogravure.
Oh, I could write a sonnet about your easter bonnet,
And of the girl Im taking to the easter parade.
song performed by by Irving Berlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Easter Theatre
Gold sun rolls around
Chocolate nipple brown
Tumble from your arms
Like the ground your breasts swell
Land awake from sleep
Hares will kick and leap
Flowers climb erect
Smiling from the moist kiss of her rainbow mouth
Chorus
Stage left
Enter easter and shes dressed in yellow yolk
Stage right
Now the son has died, the father can be born
Stand up
If wed all breathe in and blow away the smoke
New life
Wed applaud a new life
Odin mounts the tree
Bleeds for you and me
Splashing on the lamb
Gamboling with springs step
Buds will laugh and burst
Racing to be first
Turning all the soil
As the promptress fingers through her spinning script
Chorus
Easter ... in her bonnet
Easter ... in her hair
Easter ... are the ribbons
She tied everywhere
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Healthier Easter
This is the first Easter
No candy baskets will be here
But we had so many baskets
Each and every year.
The kids are older now
Candy they don’t want anymore
So this Easter the baskets sit empty
Behind the closet door.
Somehow I want the Easter Bunny here
Want those baskets filled with eggs so bright
But my teens want to be healthier
So they make sure that they eat right.
They forfeit sugar and junk
No more Peeps or a big chocolate bunny
But being without Easter Baskets on Easter
Seems to be very odd and funny.
So I am putting the word out
To the Easter Bunny in my town
That I don’t think the teens will mind
If you decide to come around.
Maybe you could leave some health bars
Perhaps some fruit and veggies too
And maybe you could put some books in there
Those things could still say “I love you”.
poem by Connie Webb
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Marks of a True Easter Man
Another Easter,
Another season.
Trying to foster
The real reason.
Time to repent?
Done that before
Change was absent
What was it for?
Notice the marks
Of the true Easter man,
He cannot look back
Facing God's direction,
He is not going back
From his crucifixion,
Nor return to the old
Rotten life oblivion.
He lost all his plans,
Someone did it for him,
When he nailed Self up there
That decision was firm.
So the true Easter man,
Is OWNED by the Savior
His new life is more than
Just Easter time labor.
'Theref ore, do not let anyone judge you by what you eat or drink, or with regard to a religious festival, a New Moon celebration, or a Sabbath Day.
These are a shadow of things to come, but the reality, however, is found in
Christ.'
Colossians 2: 16-17
Copyright Cynthia Buhain-Baello
March 20,2009
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Easter's Past
Sitting in Church
Listening to sermons
With white patent leather shoes
A fancy dress and little white gloves
With a new purse,
My brothers all dressed
In nice shirts and pants,
My mom dressed up like a movie star
With her beautiful dress and hat,
My step dad who never cared for church
He even dressed up for the day.
And in our pockets
Were chocolate eggs and jelly beans
We were told not to take to church
But we couldn’t help it.
I would peek at my brothers
Sneaking candy out of their pockets
And when mom wasn’t looking
I would sneak some out of my purse,
And slowly let the chocolate egg
Dissolve in my mouth
I couldn’t let her see me chewing
Not in church!
We would come home
Have an egg hunt
That we enjoyed so much
That we all would hide the eggs again
Ourselves
Then we had a nice big Easter dinner
Maybe even play monopoly
While eating more Easter candy.
I know the holiday was about Jesus
Being resurrected
I had spent many years
In classes learning these things
But somehow Easter
Just reminds me more of
Family togetherness and love
And visits from the Easter Bunny
And I don’t think Jesus would mind that at all.
poem by Connie Webb
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Blackmwore Maidens
THE PRIMRWOSE in the shade do blow,
The cowslip in the zun,
The thyme upon the down do grow,
The clote where streams do run;
An’ where do pretty maidens grow
An’ blow, but where the tow’r
Do rise among the bricken tuns,
In Blackmwore by the Stour.
If you could zee their comely gait,
An’ pretty faces’ smiles,
A-trippen on so light o’ waight,
An’ steppen off the stiles;
A-gwain to church, as bells do swing
An’ ring ’ithin the tow’r,
You’d own the pretty maidens’ place
Is Blackmwore by the Stour.
If you vrom Wimborne took your road,
To Stower or Paladore,
An’ all the farmers’ housen show’d
Their daughters at the door;
You’d cry to bachelors at hwome—
“Here, come: ’ithin an hour
You ’ll vind ten maidens to your mind,
In Blackmwore by the Stour.”
An’ if you look’d ’ithin their door,
To zee em in their place,
A-doen housework up avore
Their smilen mother’s face;
You’d cry—“Why, if a man would wive
An’ thrive, ’ithout a dow’r,
Then let en look en out a wife
In Blackmwore by the Stour.”
As I upon my road did pass
A school-house back in May,
There out upon the beäten grass
Wer maïdens at their play
An’ as the pretty souls did tweil
An’ smile, I cried, “The flow’r
O’ beauty, then, is still in bud
In Blackmore by the Stour.”
poem by William Barnes
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The Easter Show
The station wagon
Stood outside our house
Running on low
As we all piled out of the house
Mum and dad in the front
Older brothers and sisters
In the middle
And us little ones
Stuffed in the back
All waiting to go to
The Easter Show
All in our Sunday best
We waited patiently
As Dad locked up the house
Sister's giggling
Brothers trying to look cool
And us little ones
Jumping and shouting
HURRY UP DAD
Then mum hushing us
As dad headed towards the car
You could feel the eagerness
As we sat and waited
In anticipation of the ride
As we headed out
To the Easter Show
Then it came into view
As we all sat in awe
Of the coloured bright lights
Of the ferries wheel spinning
Of the roller coaster moving
So fast in the wind
Of the clowns in abundance
Handing out balloons
Lollipops and Candy floss
All junk food of sin
Patiently we waited
For the door to be opened
To run and have fun
At the Easter show
The best part of all
Was the laughter and fun
As from rides to machines
With glee we would run
Each of us begging
For a penny to have fun
With a smile and nod
Mum and Dad would say yes
As we shouted with glee
Onwards we ran let's have fun
In the sun at the old Easter show
Oh those were the days
Of what a rare treat for us
It came once a year
At the Easter Show
poem by Kaila George
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Do The Easter Bunny Too Funny Hop
Bunny shakes his head
like he's whiping hair back and forth
puts his right foot in
hops on one about
he does the bunny spin game
while putting humpy dumpy on the wall
thats what a bunnys all about tweet tweet
now eats a carrot loves green food
easter bunny teach us all how to eat good
puts you inside the bunny hole
with holding a corkscrew
bunny puts his left foot in
and shakes it all about
then he loves to cry and tear
while eating onion rings from a garden
piggly the pig said's I'm gonna get rabbit
fluffy bunny ears long as ears of corn
long tail of easter bunny to have fun
easter bunny hops hops and hops
do the easter bunny too funny hop
while drinking orange juice to keep spirits up.
poem by Tommy Laster
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The Wife A-Lost
1 Since I noo mwore do zee your fe{'a}ce,
Up ste{'a}rs or down below,
I'll zit me in the lwonesome ple{'a}ce,
Where flat-bough'd beech do grow;
Below the beeches' bough, my love,
Where you did never come,
An' I don't look to meet ye now,
As I do look at hwome.
Since you noo mwore be at my zide,
In walks in zummer het,
I'll goo alwone where mist do ride,
Drough trees a-drippèn wet;
Below the ra{'i}n-wet bough, my love,
Where you did never come,
An' I don't grieve to miss ye now,
As I do grieve at hwome.
Since now bezide my dinner-bwoard
Your va{'i}ce do never sound,
I'll eat the bit I can avword,
A-vield upon the ground;
Below the darksome bough, my love,
Where you did never dine,
An' I don't grieve to miss ye now,
As I at hwome do pine.
Since I do miss your va{'i}ce an' fe{'a}ce
In pra{'y}er at eventide,
I'll pray wi' woone sad va{'i}ce vor gre{'a}ce
To goo where you do bide;
Above the tree an' bough, my love,
Where you be gone avore,
An' be a-w{'a}itèn vor me now,
To come vor evermwore.
poem by William Barnes
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The Year Clock
We zot bezide the leafy wall,
Upon the bench at evenfall,
While aunt led off our minds wrom ceare
Wi' veairy teales, I can't tell where,
An' vound us woone among her stock
O' feables, o' the gert Year-clock.
His feace wer blue's the zummer skies,
An' wide's the zight o'looken eyes,
For hands, a zun wi' glowen feace,
An' pealer moon wi' swifter peace,
Did wheel by stars o' twinklen light,
By bright-wall'd day, an' dark-treed night;
An' down upon the high-sky'd land,
A'reachen wide, on either hand,
Wer hill an' dell, wi' win'-sway'd trees,
An' lights a'zweepen over seas,
An' gleamen cliffs, an' bright-wall'd tow'rs,
Wi' sheades a-marken on the hours;
An' as the feace, a-rollen round,
Brought comely sheapes along the ground,
The Spring did come in winsome steate
Below a glowen rainbow geate;
An' fan wi' air a-blowen weak,
Her glossy heair, an' rwosy cheak,
As she did shed vrom open hand,
The leapen zeed on vurrow'd land;
The while the rook, wi' heasty flight,
A-floaten in the glowen light,
Did bear avore her glossy breast
A stick to build her lofty nest,
An' strong-limbed Tweil, wi' steady hands,
Did guide along the vallow lands
The heavy zull, wi' bright-shear'd beam,
Avore the weary oxen-team.
Wi' Spring a-gone there come behind
Sweet Zummer, jay on ev'ry mind,
Wi' feace a-beamen to beguile
Our weary souls ov ev'ry tweil,
While birds did warble in the dell,
In softest air o' sweetest smell;
An' she, so winsome-feair did vwold
Her comely limbs in green an' goold,
An' wear a rwosy wreath, wi' studs
O' berries green, an' new-born buds,
A-fring'd in colours vier-bright,
Wi' sheapes o'buttervlies in flight.
When Summer went, the next ov all
Did come the sheape o' brown-feac'd Fall,
A-smile in a comely gown
O'green, a-shot wi' yollow-brown,
A-border'd wi' a goolden stripe
O'fringe, a-meade o' corn-ears ripe,
An' up agean her comely zide,
Upon her rounded earm, did ride
A pretty basket, all a-twin'd
O' slender stems wi' leaves an' rind,
A-vill'd wi' fruit the trees did shed,
All ripe, in purple, goold an' red;
An' busy Leabor there did come
A-zingen zongs ov harvest hwome,
An' red-ear'd dogs did briskly run
Roun' cheervul Leisure, wi' his gun,
Or stan' an' mark, wi' stedvast zight,
The speckled pa'tridge rise in flight.
An' next agean to mild-feac'd Fall
Did come peale Winter, last ov all,
A-benden down, in thoughtvul mood,
Her head 'ithin a snow-white hood,
A-deck'd wi' icy-jewels bright,
An' cwold as twinklen stars o' night;
An' there were weary Leabor, slack
O' veet to keep her vrozen track,
A-looken off, wi' wistful eyes,
To reefs o'smoke, that there did rise
A-melten to the peale-feac'd zun,
Above the houses' lofty tun.
An' there the gert Year-clock did goo
By day an' night, vor ever true,
Wi' mighty wheels a-rollen round
'Ithout a beat, 'ithout a sound.
poem by William Barnes
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Poor Boy's Easter Day
I don't have flowers of sun
The destiny took them away and gone
Even i don't have colored eggs
At this blissful Easter days
I don't have golden combs
To comb this dirty hair of mine
And my shoes are jugged and old
And it's already Easter day to hold
My little brother's hand
And go to our old church
but how I'll go?
People will make fun of me i know
And i can hear them when they say
'Oh how a dirty grimy his hair is'
'Oh God look to his old nasty shoes'
'What is doing this poor boy here'
'Oh Tom my son don't go near
then you become infected if you go near
that beggar boy so stay here'
And at the end ill return home
To tear at my bed alone
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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Easter
(music: marillion lyrics: steve hogarth)
A ghost of a mist was on the field
The grey and the green together
The noise of a distant farm machine
Out of a the first light came
A tattered necklace of hedge end trees
On the southern side of the hill
Betrays where the border runs between
Where mary dunoons boy fell
Easter here again
A time for the blind to see
Easter
Surely now can all of your hearts be free
Out of the port of liverpool
Bound for the north of ireland
The wash of the spray and horsetail waves
The roll of the sea below
And easter here again
A time for the blind to see
Easter
Surely now can all of your hearts be free
What will you do?
Make a stone of your heart?
Will you set things right?
When you tear them apart?
Will you sleep at night?
With the plough and the stars alight?
What will you do?
With the wire and the gun?
Thatll set things right
When its said and done?
Will you sleep at night?
Is there so much love to hide?
Forgive
Forget
Sing never again.
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Happy Easter!
Palm Sunday has gone,
Holy week has begun,
The week with events
Leading to Jesus torments,
To His Resurrection,
Showing the spirits domination.
Glory to Jesus Christ!
Easter Sunday today,
The greatest holiday.
We pray and say,
All around the world,
The words of love to our Lord
Showing that his death was not in vain.
Glory to Jesus Christ!
We light the candles
As a symbol of the rising sun,
And their light resembles
Jesus was really God’s Son.
The light comes back to the world
With the risen Jesus.
Glory to Jesus Christ!
The church bells ring,
The whole world sings Alleluia!
Easter eggs we bring
As a symbol of spring
With pretty small limes
Since the ancient times.
Glory to Jesus Christ!
Easter Rabbits or Easter Bunny
Look today happy and sunny.
They represent a new life
Full of presents and so nice.
We wear new clothes to look the best,
We’d like to follow His behest.
Glory to Jesus Christ!
The history of Sunday Easter has a long story,
And today we proclaim Jesus Christ Day
And say: Glory to our Lord!
Glory to the King of all Christians:
Ukrainians and Indians,
Russians and Americans,
Of all those who want to live in love and peace,
Our life for better to increase.
Glory to Jesus Christ!
And…..Happy Easter!
©Larisa Rzhepishevska
The 24th of April,2011
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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