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 Faërie 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.