Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect by William Barnes. First Collection. Fourth Edition |
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CHRISTMAS INVITATION. |
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 | Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect |  |
139
CHRISTMAS INVITATION.
Come down to morrow night; an' mind,
Don't leäve thy fiddle-bag behind;
We'll sheäke a lag an' drink a cup
O' eäle, to keep wold Chris'mas up.
Don't leäve thy fiddle-bag behind;
We'll sheäke a lag an' drink a cup
O' eäle, to keep wold Chris'mas up.
An' let thy sister teäke thy eärm,
The walk won't do her any harm;
There's noo dirt now to spweil her frock,
The ground's a-vroze so hard's a rock.
The walk won't do her any harm;
There's noo dirt now to spweil her frock,
The ground's a-vroze so hard's a rock.
You won't meet any stranger's feäce,
But only naïghbours o' the pleäce,
An' Stowe, an'Combe; an' two or dree
Vrom uncle's up at Rookery.
But only naïghbours o' the pleäce,
An' Stowe, an'Combe; an' two or dree
Vrom uncle's up at Rookery.
An' thou wu'lt vind a rwosy feäce,
An' peäir ov eyes so black as sloos,
The prettiest woones in all the pleäce,—
I'm sure I needen tell thee whose.
An' peäir ov eyes so black as sloos,
The prettiest woones in all the pleäce,—
I'm sure I needen tell thee whose.
We got a back-bran', dree gre't logs
So much as dree ov us can car;
We'll put em up athirt the dogs,
An' meäke a vier to the bar.
So much as dree ov us can car;
We'll put em up athirt the dogs,
An' meäke a vier to the bar.
An' ev'ry woone shall tell his teäle,
An' ev'ry woone shall zing his zong,
An' ev'ry woone wull drink his eäle
To love an' frien'ship all night long.
An' ev'ry woone shall zing his zong,
An' ev'ry woone wull drink his eäle
To love an' frien'ship all night long.
140
We'll snap the tongs, we'll have a ball,
We'll sheäke the house, we'll lift the ruf
We'll romp an' meäke the maïdens squall,
A catchèn o'm at blind-man's buff.
We'll sheäke the house, we'll lift the ruf
We'll romp an' meäke the maïdens squall,
A catchèn o'm at blind-man's buff.
Zoo come to morrow night; an' mind,
Don't leäve thy fiddle-bag behind:
We'll sheäke a lag, an' drink a cup
O' eäle, to keep wold Chris'mas up.
Don't leäve thy fiddle-bag behind:
We'll sheäke a lag, an' drink a cup
O' eäle, to keep wold Chris'mas up.
| Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect | |