Wabe

Wabe
by john valley

I saw a wabe
awinkle in a babe,
and nary had it turned a bit
when over was it burned in it.

O, give you not the wabe your heart afree,
the tarry grumble maiden said to me,
for ever will it gird your word
and jiggle on your nerve, absurd.

This, the old man turned to me
and said with sodden hair and turbid ghee:
You come a-toiling in a wabe, like gerbs and willums all aglee.
You fools. Your turn has run. Your burn is done

Give back, undo ye.
Quit.
And come again no more.
Your turn has run.

And I do not remember who ye be.