Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect by William Barnes. First Collection. Fourth Edition |
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THE SETTLE AN' THE GRE'T WOOD VIRE. |
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 | Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect |  |
THE SETTLE AN' THE GRE'T WOOD VIRE.
Ah! naïghbour John, since I an' you
Wer youngsters ev'ry thing is new.
My father's vires wer all o' logs
O' cleft-wood, down upon the dogs
Below our clavy, high, an' brode
Enough too teäke a cart an' lwoad,
Where big an' little all zot down
At bwoth zides, an' bevore all roun'.
An' when I zot among em, I
Could zee all up ageän the sky
Drough chimney, where our vo'k did hitch
The zalt-box an' the beäcon-vlitch,
An' watch the smoke on out o' vier,
All up an' out o' tun, an' higher.
An' there wer beäcon up on rack,
An' pleätes an' dishes on the tack;
An' roun' the walls wer heärbs a-stowed
In peäpern bags, an' blathers blowed.
An'just above the clavy-bwoard
Wer father's spurs, an' gun, an' sword;
An' there wer then, our gre'test pride,
The settle by the vier zide.
Ah! gi'e me, if I wer a squier,
The settle an' the gre't wood vier.
Wer youngsters ev'ry thing is new.
My father's vires wer all o' logs
O' cleft-wood, down upon the dogs
Below our clavy, high, an' brode
Enough too teäke a cart an' lwoad,
Where big an' little all zot down
At bwoth zides, an' bevore all roun'.
An' when I zot among em, I
Could zee all up ageän the sky
Drough chimney, where our vo'k did hitch
The zalt-box an' the beäcon-vlitch,
An' watch the smoke on out o' vier,
All up an' out o' tun, an' higher.
136
An' pleätes an' dishes on the tack;
An' roun' the walls wer heärbs a-stowed
In peäpern bags, an' blathers blowed.
An'just above the clavy-bwoard
Wer father's spurs, an' gun, an' sword;
An' there wer then, our gre'test pride,
The settle by the vier zide.
Ah! gi'e me, if I wer a squier,
The settle an' the gre't wood vier.
But they've a-wall'd up now wi' bricks
The vier pleäce vor dogs an' sticks,
An' only left a little hole
To teäke a little greäte o' coal,
So small that only two or drees
Can jist push in an' warm their knees.
An' then the carpets they do use,
Bēn't fit to tread wi' ouer shoes;
An' chairs an' couches be so neat,
You mussen teäke em vor a seat:
They be so fine, that vo'k mus' pleäce
All over em an' outer ceäse,
An' then the cover, when 'tis on,
Is still too fine to loll upon.
Ah! gi'e me if I wer a squier,
The settle an' the gr'et wood viet.
The vier pleäce vor dogs an' sticks,
An' only left a little hole
To teäke a little greäte o' coal,
So small that only two or drees
Can jist push in an' warm their knees.
An' then the carpets they do use,
Bēn't fit to tread wi' ouer shoes;
An' chairs an' couches be so neat,
You mussen teäke em vor a seat:
They be so fine, that vo'k mus' pleäce
All over em an' outer ceäse,
An' then the cover, when 'tis on,
Is still too fine to loll upon.
Ah! gi'e me if I wer a squier,
The settle an' the gr'et wood viet.
Carpets, indeed! You coulden hurt
The stwone-vloor wi' a little dirt;
Vor what wer brought in doors by men,
The women soon mopp'd out ageän.
Zoo we did come vrom muck an' mire,
An' walk in straïght avore the vier;
But now, a man's a-kept at door
At work a pirty while, avore
He's screäp'd an' rubb'd, an' cleän an' fit
To goo in where his wife do zit.
An' then if he should have a whiff
In there, 'twould only breed a miff:
He cānt smoke there, vor smoke woon't goo
'Ithin the footy little flue.
Ah! gi'e me, if I wer a squier,
The settle an' the girt wood vier.
The stwone-vloor wi' a little dirt;
Vor what wer brought in doors by men,
The women soon mopp'd out ageän.
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An' walk in straïght avore the vier;
But now, a man's a-kept at door
At work a pirty while, avore
He's screäp'd an' rubb'd, an' cleän an' fit
To goo in where his wife do zit.
An' then if he should have a whiff
In there, 'twould only breed a miff:
He cānt smoke there, vor smoke woon't goo
'Ithin the footy little flue.
Ah! gi'e me, if I wer a squier,
The settle an' the girt wood vier.
| Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect | |