Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect by William Barnes. First Collection. Fourth Edition |
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THE WOLD WAGGON. |
 | Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect |  |
THE WOLD WAGGON.
The gre't wold waggon uncle had,
When I wer up a hardish lad,
Did stand, a-screen'd vrom het an' wet,
In zummer at the barken geäte,
Below the elems' spreädèn boughs,
A-rubb'd by all the pigs an' cows.
An' I've a-clom his head an' zides,
A-riggèn up or jumpèn down
A-plaÿèn, or in happy rides
Along the leäne or drough the groun'.
An' many souls be in their greäves,
That rod' together on his reäves;
An' he, an' all the hosses too,
'V a-ben a-done vor years agoo.
When I wer up a hardish lad,
Did stand, a-screen'd vrom het an' wet,
In zummer at the barken geäte,
Below the elems' spreädèn boughs,
A-rubb'd by all the pigs an' cows.
An' I've a-clom his head an' zides,
A-riggèn up or jumpèn down
A-plaÿèn, or in happy rides
Along the leäne or drough the groun'.
165
That rod' together on his reäves;
An' he, an' all the hosses too,
'V a-ben a-done vor years agoo.
Upon his head an' taïl wer pinks,
A-païnted all in tangled links;
His two long zides wer blue,—his bed
Bent slightly upward at the head;
His reäves rose upward in a bow
Above the slow hind-wheels below.
Vour hosses wer a-kept to pull
The gre't wold waggon when 'twer vull:
The black meäre Smiler, strong enough
To pull a house down by herzuf,
So big, as took my biggest strides
To straddle halfway down her zides;
An' champèn Vi'let, sprack an' light,
That foam'd an' pull'd wi' all her might;
An' Whitevoot, leäzy in the treäce,
Wi' cunnèn looks an' snow-white feäce
Bezides a baÿ woone, short-taïl Jack,
That wer a treäce-hoss or a hack.
A-païnted all in tangled links;
His two long zides wer blue,—his bed
Bent slightly upward at the head;
His reäves rose upward in a bow
Above the slow hind-wheels below.
Vour hosses wer a-kept to pull
The gre't wold waggon when 'twer vull:
The black meäre Smiler, strong enough
To pull a house down by herzuf,
So big, as took my biggest strides
To straddle halfway down her zides;
An' champèn Vi'let, sprack an' light,
That foam'd an' pull'd wi' all her might;
An' Whitevoot, leäzy in the treäce,
Wi' cunnèn looks an' snow-white feäce
Bezides a baÿ woone, short-taïl Jack,
That wer a treäce-hoss or a hack.
How many lwoads o' vuzz, to scald
The milk, thik waggon have a-haul'd!
An' wood vrom copse, an' poles vor raïls,
An' bavèns wi' their bushy tails;
An' loose-ear'd barley, hangèn down
Outzide the wheels a'móst to groun',
An' lwoads o' haÿ so sweet an' dry,
A-builded straïght, an' long, an' hïgh;
An' haÿ-meäkers, a-zittèn roun'
The reäves, a-ridèn hwome vrom groun',
When Jim gi'ed Jenny's lips a-smack,
An' jealous Dicky whipp'd his back;
An' maïdens scream'd to veel the thumps
A-gi'ed by trenches an' by humps.
But he, an' all his hosses too,
'V a-ben a-done vor years agoo.
The milk, thik waggon have a-haul'd!
An' wood vrom copse, an' poles vor raïls,
An' bavèns wi' their bushy tails;
An' loose-ear'd barley, hangèn down
Outzide the wheels a'móst to groun',
An' lwoads o' haÿ so sweet an' dry,
A-builded straïght, an' long, an' hïgh;
166
The reäves, a-ridèn hwome vrom groun',
When Jim gi'ed Jenny's lips a-smack,
An' jealous Dicky whipp'd his back;
An' maïdens scream'd to veel the thumps
A-gi'ed by trenches an' by humps.
But he, an' all his hosses too,
'V a-ben a-done vor years agoo.
| Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect | |