Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect by William Barnes. First Collection. Fourth Edition |
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THE BROOK THAT RAN BY GRAMFER'S. |
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 | Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect |  |
45
THE BROOK THAT RAN BY GRAMFER'S.
When snow-white clouds wer thin an' vew
Avore the zummer sky o' blue,
An' I'd noo ho but how to vind
Zome plaÿ to entertaïn my mind;
Along the water, as did wind
Wi' zedgy shoal an' hollow crook,
How I did ramble by the brook
That ran all down vrom gramfer's
Avore the zummer sky o' blue,
An' I'd noo ho but how to vind
Zome plaÿ to entertaïn my mind;
Along the water, as did wind
Wi' zedgy shoal an' hollow crook,
How I did ramble by the brook
That ran all down vrom gramfer's
A-holdèn out my line beyond
The cloth-leaves, wi' my withy wand,
How I did watch, wi' eager look,
My zwimmèn cork, a-zunk or shook
As minnows nibbled at my hook,
A-thinkèn I should catch a breäce
O' perch, or at the leäst some deäce,
A-zwimmèn down vrom gramfer's.
The cloth-leaves, wi' my withy wand,
How I did watch, wi' eager look,
My zwimmèn cork, a-zunk or shook
As minnows nibbled at my hook,
A-thinkèn I should catch a breäce
O' perch, or at the leäst some deäce,
A-zwimmèn down vrom gramfer's.
Then ten good deäries wer a-ved
Along that water's windèn bed,
An' in the lewth o' hills an' wood
A half a score farm-housen stood:
But now,—count all o'm how you would,
So many less do hold the land,—
You'd vind but vive that still do stand,
A-comèn down vrom gramfer's.
Along that water's windèn bed,
An' in the lewth o' hills an' wood
A half a score farm-housen stood:
But now,—count all o'm how you would,
So many less do hold the land,—
You'd vind but vive that still do stand,
A-comèn down vrom gramfer's.
There, in the midst ov all his land,
The squier's ten-tunn'd house did stand,
Where he did meäke the water clim'
A bank, an' sparkle under dim
Bridge arches, villèn to the brim
His pon', an' leäpèn, white as snow,
Vrom rock, a-glitt'rèn in a bow,
An' runnèn down to gramfer's.
The squier's ten-tunn'd house did stand,
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A bank, an' sparkle under dim
Bridge arches, villèn to the brim
His pon', an' leäpèn, white as snow,
Vrom rock, a-glitt'rèn in a bow,
An' runnèn down to gramfer's.
An' now woone wing is all you'd vind
O' thick gre't house a-left behind;
An' only woone wold stwonen tun
'S a-stannèn to the raïn an' zun,—
An' all's undone that he'd a-done;
The brook ha' now noo call to staÿ
To vill his pon' or clim' his baÿ,
A-runnèn down to gramfer's.
O' thick gre't house a-left behind;
An' only woone wold stwonen tun
'S a-stannèn to the raïn an' zun,—
An' all's undone that he'd a-done;
The brook ha' now noo call to staÿ
To vill his pon' or clim' his baÿ,
A-runnèn down to gramfer's.
When woonce, in heavy raïn, the road
At Grenley bridge wer overflow'd,
Poor Sophy White, the pleäce's pride,
A-gwaïn vrom market, went to ride
Her pony droo to tother zide;
But vound the strëam so deep an' strong,
That took her off the road along
The hollow down to gramfer's.
At Grenley bridge wer overflow'd,
Poor Sophy White, the pleäce's pride,
A-gwaïn vrom market, went to ride
Her pony droo to tother zide;
But vound the strëam so deep an' strong,
That took her off the road along
The hollow down to gramfer's.
'Twer dark, an' she went on too vast
To catch hold any thing she pass'd;
Noo bough hung over to her hand,
An' she could reach noo stwone nor land,
Where woonce her litty voot could stand;
Noo ears wer out to hear her cries,
Nor wer she woonce a-zeen by eyes,
Till took up dead at gramfer's.
To catch hold any thing she pass'd;
Noo bough hung over to her hand,
An' she could reach noo stwone nor land,
Where woonce her litty voot could stand;
Noo ears wer out to hear her cries,
Nor wer she woonce a-zeen by eyes,
Till took up dead at gramfer's.
| Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect | |