Berries

There was an old woman         Went blackberry picking      Along the hedges         From Weep to Wicking.      Half a pottle -         No more she had got,      When out steps a Fairy         From her green grot;      And says, "Well, Jill,         Would 'ee pick 'ee mo?"      And Jill, she curtseys,         And looks just so.      "Be off," says the Fairy,         "As quick as you can,      Over the meadows         To the little green lane,      That dips to the hayfields         Of Farmer Grimes:      I've berried those hedges         A score of times;      Bushel on bushel         I'll promise 'ee, Jill,      This side of supper         If 'ee pick with a will."      She glints very bright,         And speaks her fair;      Then lo, and behold!         She has faded in air.      Be sure old Goodie         She trots betimes      Over the meadows         To Farmer Grimes.      And never was queen         With jewellry rich      As those same hedges         From twig to ditch;      Like Dutchmen's coffers,         Fruit, thorn, and flower -      They shone like William         And Mary's bower.      And be sure Old Goodie         Went back to Weep,      So tired with her basket         She scarce could creep.      When she comes in the dusk         To her cottage door,      There's Towser wagging         As never before,      To see his Missus         So glad to be      Come from her fruit-picking         Back to he.      As soon as next morning         Dawn was grey,      The pot on the hob         Was simmering away;      And all in a stew         And a hugger-mugger      Towser and Jill         A-boiling of sugar,      And the dark clear fruit         That from Farie came,      For syrup and jelly         And blackberry jam.      Twelve jolly gallipots         Jill put by;      And one little teeny one,         One inch high;      And that she's hidden         A good thumb deep,      Half way over         From Wicking to Weep.