Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect by William Barnes. First Collection. Fourth Edition |
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SHRODON FEAIR.
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 | Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect |  |
SHRODON FEAIR.
The vu'st Peärt.
An' zoo's the day wer warm an' bright,
An' nar a cloud wer up in zight,
We wheedled father for the meäre
An' cart, to goo to Shrodon feäir.
An' Poll an' Nan ran off up stairs,
To shift their things, so wild as heäres;
An' pull'd out, each o'm vrom her box,
Their snow-white leäce an' newest frocks,
An' put their bonnets on, a-lined
Wi' blue. an' sashes tied behind;
An' turn'd avore the glass their feäce
An' back, to zee their things in pleäce;
While Dick an' I did brush our hats
An' cwoats, an' cleän ourzelves lik' cats.
At woone or two o'clock, we vound
Ourzelves at Shrodon seäfe an' sound,
A-struttèn in among the rows
O' tilted stannèns an' o' shows,
An' gre't long booths wi' little bars
Chock-vull o' barrels, mugs, an' jars,
An' meat a-cookèn out avore
The vier at the upper door;
Where zellers bwold to buyers shy
Did hollow round us “What d'ye buy?”
An' scores o' merry tongues did speak
At woonce, an' childern's pipes did squeak,
An' horns did blow, an' drums did rumble,
An' bawlèn merrymen did tumble;
An' woone did all but want an' edge
To peärt the crowd wi', lik' a wedge.
An' nar a cloud wer up in zight,
We wheedled father for the meäre
An' cart, to goo to Shrodon feäir.
An' Poll an' Nan ran off up stairs,
To shift their things, so wild as heäres;
An' pull'd out, each o'm vrom her box,
Their snow-white leäce an' newest frocks,
An' put their bonnets on, a-lined
Wi' blue. an' sashes tied behind;
An' turn'd avore the glass their feäce
An' back, to zee their things in pleäce;
While Dick an' I did brush our hats
An' cwoats, an' cleän ourzelves lik' cats.
At woone or two o'clock, we vound
Ourzelves at Shrodon seäfe an' sound,
A-struttèn in among the rows
O' tilted stannèns an' o' shows,
110
Chock-vull o' barrels, mugs, an' jars,
An' meat a-cookèn out avore
The vier at the upper door;
Where zellers bwold to buyers shy
Did hollow round us “What d'ye buy?”
An' scores o' merry tongues did speak
At woonce, an' childern's pipes did squeak,
An' horns did blow, an' drums did rumble,
An' bawlèn merrymen did tumble;
An' woone did all but want an' edge
To peärt the crowd wi', lik' a wedge.
We zaw the dancers in a show
Dance up an' down, an' to an' fro,
Upon a rwope, wi' chalky zoles,
So light as magpies up on poles;
An' tumblers, wi' their streaks an' spots,
That all but tied theirzelves in knots.
An' then a conjurer burn'd off
Poll's hankerchief so black's a snoff,
An' het en, wi' a single blow,
Right back ageän so white as snow.
An' after that, he fried a fat
Gre't ceäke inzide o' my new hat;
An' yet, vor all he did en brown,
He didden even zweal the crown.
Dance up an' down, an' to an' fro,
Upon a rwope, wi' chalky zoles,
So light as magpies up on poles;
An' tumblers, wi' their streaks an' spots,
That all but tied theirzelves in knots.
An' then a conjurer burn'd off
Poll's hankerchief so black's a snoff,
An' het en, wi' a single blow,
Right back ageän so white as snow.
An' after that, he fried a fat
Gre't ceäke inzide o' my new hat;
An' yet, vor all he did en brown,
He didden even zweal the crown.
| Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect | |