Jane Pettigrew: Dyesholm

Sweet Dyesholm, sweet Dyesholm,
thy flowery haunts I love to roam,
thy woods, thy glens, thy mossy dell
Sweet Dyesholm I love thee well.
The brawling Cawder's rapid tide
around thy fertile holms doth glide
and murmurs there in gentle tone
I love thee well sweet Dyesholm.
Decked like a bride thy hawthorn fair
with grateful fragrance fills the air
wild flowers whose colours far outvie
the costliest gems of deepest dye.
Thy charms to me grow still more clear
In summer gay and winter drear
I'm bound to thee in fairy spell
Sweet Dyesholm I love thee well.
Each warbling bird, each humming bee,
each flower, each shrub, each spreading tree
swell out the chorus loud and long
I love thee well sweet Dyesholm.

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