Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect by William Barnes. First Collection. Fourth Edition |
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WOAK WER GOOD ENOUGH WOONCE. |
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 | Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect |  |
WOAK WER GOOD ENOUGH WOONCE.
Yes: now mahogany's the goo,
An' good wold English woak won't do.
I wish vo'k always mid avvword
Hot meals upon a woakèn bwoard,
As good as thik that took my cup
An' trencher all my growèn up.
Ah! I do mind en in the hall,
A-reachèn all along the wall,
Wi' us at father's end, while tother
Did teäke the maïdens wi' their mother;
An' while the risèn steam did spread
In curlèn clouds up over head,
Our mouths did wag, an' tongues did run,
To meäke the maïdens laugh o' fun.
An' good wold English woak won't do.
I wish vo'k always mid avvword
Hot meals upon a woakèn bwoard,
As good as thik that took my cup
An' trencher all my growèn up.
Ah! I do mind en in the hall,
A-reachèn all along the wall,
Wi' us at father's end, while tother
Did teäke the maïdens wi' their mother;
An' while the risèn steam did spread
In curlèn clouds up over head,
Our mouths did wag, an' tongues did run,
To meäke the maïdens laugh o' fun.
A woaken bedstead, black an' bright,
Did teäke my weary bwones at night,
Where I could stratch an' roll about
Wi' little fear o' vallèn out;
An' up abovè my head a peäir
Ov ugly heads a-carv'd did steäre,
An' grin avore a bright vull moon
A'most enough to frighten woone.
An' then we had, vor cwoats an' frocks,
Woak cwoffers wi' their rusty locks
An' neämes in naïls, a-left behind
By kinsvo'k dead an' out o' mind;
Zoo we did get on well enough
Wi' things a-meäde ov English stuff.
But then, you know, a woaken stick
Wer cheap, vor woaken trees wer thick.
When poor wold Gramfer Green wer young,
He zaid a squirrel mid a-sprung
Along the dell, vrom tree to tree,
Vrom Woodcomb all the way to Lea;
An' woak wer all vo'k did avvword,
Avore his time, vor bed or bwoard.
Did teäke my weary bwones at night,
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Wi' little fear o' vallèn out;
An' up abovè my head a peäir
Ov ugly heads a-carv'd did steäre,
An' grin avore a bright vull moon
A'most enough to frighten woone.
An' then we had, vor cwoats an' frocks,
Woak cwoffers wi' their rusty locks
An' neämes in naïls, a-left behind
By kinsvo'k dead an' out o' mind;
Zoo we did get on well enough
Wi' things a-meäde ov English stuff.
But then, you know, a woaken stick
Wer cheap, vor woaken trees wer thick.
When poor wold Gramfer Green wer young,
He zaid a squirrel mid a-sprung
Along the dell, vrom tree to tree,
Vrom Woodcomb all the way to Lea;
An' woak wer all vo'k did avvword,
Avore his time, vor bed or bwoard.
| Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect | |