Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect by William Barnes. First Collection. Fourth Edition |
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| WINTER. |
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 | Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect |  |
121
WINTER.
THE VROST.
Come, run up hwome wi' us to night,
Athirt the vield a-vroze so white,
Where vrosty sheädes do lie below
The winter ricks a-tipp'd wi' snow,
An' lively birds, wi' waggèn taïls,
Do hop upon the icy raïls,
An' rime do whiten all the tops
O' bush an' tree in hedge an' copse,
In wind's a-cuttèn keen.
Athirt the vield a-vroze so white,
Where vrosty sheädes do lie below
The winter ricks a-tipp'd wi' snow,
An' lively birds, wi' waggèn taïls,
Do hop upon the icy raïls,
An' rime do whiten all the tops
O' bush an' tree in hedge an' copse,
In wind's a-cuttèn keen.
Come, maïdens, come: the groun's a-vroze
Too hard to-night to spweil your clothes.
You got noo pools to waddle drough,
Nor clay a-pullèn off your shoe;
An' we can trig ye at the zide,
To keep ye up if you do slide:
Zoo while there's neither wet nor mud,
'S the time to run an' warm your blood,
In winds a-cuttèn keen.
Too hard to-night to spweil your clothes.
You got noo pools to waddle drough,
Nor clay a-pullèn off your shoe;
An' we can trig ye at the zide,
To keep ye up if you do slide:
Zoo while there's neither wet nor mud,
'S the time to run an' warm your blood,
In winds a-cuttèn keen.
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Vor young men's hearts an' maïden's eyes
Don't vreeze below the cwoldest skies,
While they in twice so keen a blast
Can wag their brisk lim's twice so vast;
Though vier-light, a-flick'rèn red
Drough vrosty window-peänes, do spread
Vrom wall to wall, vrom he'th to door,
Vor us to goo an' zit avore,
Vrom winds a-cuttèn keen.
Don't vreeze below the cwoldest skies,
While they in twice so keen a blast
Can wag their brisk lim's twice so vast;
Though vier-light, a-flick'rèn red
Drough vrosty window-peänes, do spread
Vrom wall to wall, vrom he'th to door,
Vor us to goo an' zit avore,
Vrom winds a-cuttèn keen.
A BIT O' FUN.
We thought you woulden leäve us quite
So soon as what you did last night;
Our fun jist got up to a height
As you about got hwome.
The friskèn chaps did skip about,
An' cou'se the maïdens in an' out,
A-meäkèn such a randy-rout,
You coulden hear a drum.
So soon as what you did last night;
Our fun jist got up to a height
As you about got hwome.
The friskèn chaps did skip about,
An' cou'se the maïdens in an' out,
A-meäkèn such a randy-rout,
You coulden hear a drum.
An' Tom, a-springèn after Bet
Blind-vwolded, whizz'd along, an' het
Poor Grammer's zide, an' overzet
Her chair, at blind-man's buff;
An' she, poor soul, as she did vall,
Did show her snags o' teeth an' squall,
An' what, she zaid, wer worse than all,
She shatter'd all her snuff.
Blind-vwolded, whizz'd along, an' het
Poor Grammer's zide, an' overzet
Her chair, at blind-man's buff;
An' she, poor soul, as she did vall,
Did show her snags o' teeth an' squall,
An' what, she zaid, wer worse than all,
She shatter'd all her snuff.
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An' Bet, a-hoppèn back vor fear
O' Tom, struck uncle zittèn near,
An' meäde his han' spill all his beer
Right down her poll an' back;
An' Joe, in middle o' the din,
Slipt out a bit, an' soon come in
Wi' all below his dapper chin
A-jumpèn in a zack.
O' Tom, struck uncle zittèn near,
An' meäde his han' spill all his beer
Right down her poll an' back;
An' Joe, in middle o' the din,
Slipt out a bit, an' soon come in
Wi' all below his dapper chin
A-jumpèn in a zack.
An' in a twinklèn tother chaps
Jist hung en to a crook wi' straps,
An' meäde en bear the maïdens' slaps,
An' prickens wi' a pin.
An' Jim, a-catchèn Poll, poor chap,
In back-house in the dark, vell slap
Athirt a tub o' barm,—a trap
She zet to catch en in.
Jist hung en to a crook wi' straps,
An' meäde en bear the maïdens' slaps,
An' prickens wi' a pin.
An' Jim, a-catchèn Poll, poor chap,
In back-house in the dark, vell slap
Athirt a tub o' barm,—a trap
She zet to catch en in.
An' then we zot down out o' breath,
An' meäde a circle roun' the he'th,
A-keepèn up our harmless me'th,
Till supper wer a-come.
An' after we'd a-had zome prog,
All tother chaps begun to jog,
Wi' sticks to lick a thief or dog,
To zee the maïdens hwome.
An' meäde a circle roun' the he'th,
A-keepèn up our harmless me'th,
Till supper wer a-come.
An' after we'd a-had zome prog,
All tother chaps begun to jog,
Wi' sticks to lick a thief or dog,
To zee the maïdens hwome.
124
FANNY'S BE'TH-DAY.
How merry, wi' the cider cup,
We kept poor Fanny's be'th-day up!
An' how our busy tongues did run
An' hands did wag, a-meäkèn fun!
What plaÿsome anticks zome ō's done!
An' how, a-reelèn roun' an' roun',
We beät the merry tuèn down,
While music wer a-soundèn!
We kept poor Fanny's be'th-day up!
An' how our busy tongues did run
An' hands did wag, a-meäkèn fun!
What plaÿsome anticks zome ō's done!
An' how, a-reelèn roun' an' roun',
We beät the merry tuèn down,
While music wer a-soundèn!
The maïdens' eyes o' black an' blue
Did glisten lik' the mornen dew;
An' while the cider-mug did stand
A-hissèn by the bleäzèn brand,
An' uncle's pipe wer in his hand,
How little he or we did think
How peäle the zettèn stars did blink
While music wer a-soundèn!
Did glisten lik' the mornen dew;
An' while the cider-mug did stand
A-hissèn by the bleäzèn brand,
An' uncle's pipe wer in his hand,
How little he or we did think
How peäle the zettèn stars did blink
While music wer a-soundèn!
An' Fanny's last young teen begun,
Poor maïd, wi' thik day's risèn zun,
An' we all wish'd her many mwore
Long years wi' happiness in store;
An' as she went an' stood avore
The vier, by her father's zide,
Her mother dropp'd a tear o' pride
While music wer a-soundèn.
Poor maïd, wi' thik day's risèn zun,
An' we all wish'd her many mwore
Long years wi' happiness in store;
An' as she went an' stood avore
The vier, by her father's zide,
Her mother dropp'd a tear o' pride
While music wer a-soundèn.
An' then we did all kinds o' tricks
Wi' han'kercheifs, an' strings, an' sticks;
An' woone did try to overmatch
Another wi' zome cunnèn catch,
While tothers slyly tried to hatch
Zome geäme; but yet, by chap an' maïd,
The dancèn wer the mwost injaÿ'd,
While music wer a-soundèn.
Wi' han'kercheifs, an' strings, an' sticks;
125
Another wi' zome cunnèn catch,
While tothers slyly tried to hatch
Zome geäme; but yet, by chap an' maïd,
The dancèn wer the mwost injaÿ'd,
While music wer a-soundèn.
The briskest chap ov all the lot
Wer Tom, that danc'd hizzelf so hot,
He doff'd his cwoat an' jump'd about,
Wi' gre't new shirt-sleeves all a-strout,
Among the maïdens screamèn out,
A-thinkèn, wi' his strides an stamps,
He'd squot their veet wi' his gre't clamps,
While music wer a-soundèn.
Wer Tom, that danc'd hizzelf so hot,
He doff'd his cwoat an' jump'd about,
Wi' gre't new shirt-sleeves all a-strout,
Among the maïdens screamèn out,
A-thinkèn, wi' his strides an stamps,
He'd squot their veet wi' his gre't clamps,
While music wer a-soundèn.
Then up jump'd uncle vrom his chair,
An' pull'd out aunt to meäke a peäir;
An' off he zet upon his tooe.
So light's the best that beät a shoe,
Wi' aunt a-crièn “Let me goo:”
While all ov us did laugh so loud,
We drown'd the tuèn o' the croud,
While music wer a-soundèn.
An' pull'd out aunt to meäke a peäir;
An' off he zet upon his tooe.
So light's the best that beät a shoe,
Wi' aunt a-crièn “Let me goo:”
While all ov us did laugh so loud,
We drown'd the tuèn o' the croud,
While music wer a-soundèn.
An' comèn out o' passage, Nan,
Wi' pipes an' cider in her han',
An' watchèn uncle up so sprack,
Vorgot her veet, an' vell down smack
Athirt the house-dog's shaggy back,
That wer in passage vor a snooze,
Beyond the reach o' dancer's shoes,
While music wer a-soundèn.
Wi' pipes an' cider in her han',
An' watchèn uncle up so sprack,
Vorgot her veet, an' vell down smack
Athirt the house-dog's shaggy back,
That wer in passage vor a snooze,
Beyond the reach o' dancer's shoes,
While music wer a-soundèn.
126
WHAT DICK AN' I DID.
Last week the Browns ax'd nearly all
The naïghbours to a randy,
An' left us out o't, gre't an' small,
Vor all we liv'd so handy;
An' zoo I zaid to Dick, “We'll trudge,
When they be in their fun, min;
An' car up zome'hat to the rudge,
An jis' stop up the tun, min.”
The naïghbours to a randy,
An' left us out o't, gre't an' small,
Vor all we liv'd so handy;
An' zoo I zaid to Dick, “We'll trudge,
When they be in their fun, min;
An' car up zome'hat to the rudge,
An jis' stop up the tun, min.”
Zoo, wi' the ladder vrom the rick,
We stole towards the house,
An' crope in roun' behind en, lik'
A cat upon a mouse.
Then lookèn roun', Dick whisper'd “How
Is theäse job to be done, min:
Why we do want a faggot now,
Vor stoppèn up the tun, min.”
We stole towards the house,
An' crope in roun' behind en, lik'
A cat upon a mouse.
Then lookèn roun', Dick whisper'd “How
Is theäse job to be done, min:
Why we do want a faggot now,
Vor stoppèn up the tun, min.”
“Stan' still,” I answer'd; “I'll teäke ceäre
O' that: why dussun zee
The little grindèn stwone out there,
Below the apple-tree?
Put up the ladder; in a crack
Shalt zee that I wull run, min,
An' teäke en up upon my back,
An' soon stop up the tun,min.”
O' that: why dussun zee
The little grindèn stwone out there,
Below the apple-tree?
Put up the ladder; in a crack
Shalt zee that I wull run, min,
An' teäke en up upon my back,
An' soon stop up the tun,min.”
Zoo up I clomb upon the thatch,
An clapp'd en on; an' slided
Right down ageän, an' ran drough hatch,
Behind the hedge, an' hided.
The vier that wer clear avore,
Begun to spweil their fun, min;
The smoke all roll'd toward the door,
For I'd a stopp'd the tun, min.
An clapp'd en on; an' slided
Right down ageän, an' ran drough hatch,
Behind the hedge, an' hided.
127
Begun to spweil their fun, min;
The smoke all roll'd toward the door,
For I'd a stopp'd the tun, min.
The maïdens cough'd or stopp'd their breath,
The men did hauk an' spet;
The wold vo'k bundled out from he'th
Wi' eyes a runnèn wet.
“T'ool choke us all,” the wold man cried,
“Whatever's to be done, min?
Why zome'hat is a-vell inside
O' chimney drough the tun, min.”
The men did hauk an' spet;
The wold vo'k bundled out from he'th
Wi' eyes a runnèn wet.
“T'ool choke us all,” the wold man cried,
“Whatever's to be done, min?
Why zome'hat is a-vell inside
O' chimney drough the tun, min.”
Then out they scamper'd all, vull run,
An' out cried Tom, “I think
The grindèn-stwone is up on tun,
Vor I can zee the wink.
This is some kindness that the vo'k
At Woodley have a-done, min;
I wish I had em here, I'd poke
Their numskulls down the tun, min.”
An' out cried Tom, “I think
The grindèn-stwone is up on tun,
Vor I can zee the wink.
This is some kindness that the vo'k
At Woodley have a-done, min;
I wish I had em here, I'd poke
Their numskulls down the tun, min.”
Then off he zet, an' come so quick
'S a lamplighter, an' brote
The little ladder in vrom rick,
To clear the chimney's droat.
An' when, at last, wi' much adoo,
He thought the job a-done, min,
His gre't sharp knees broke right in drough
The thatch below the tun, min.
'S a lamplighter, an' brote
The little ladder in vrom rick,
To clear the chimney's droat.
An' when, at last, wi' much adoo,
He thought the job a-done, min,
His gre't sharp knees broke right in drough
The thatch below the tun, min.
128
GRAMMER'S SHOES.
I do seem to zee Grammer as she did use
Vor to show us, at Chris'mas, her weddèn shoes.
An' her flat spreadèn bonnet so big an' roun'
As a gre't pewter dish a-turn'd upside down;
When we all did draw near
In a cluster to hear
O' the merry wold soul how she did use
To walk and to dance wi' her high-heel shoes.
Vor to show us, at Chris'mas, her weddèn shoes.
An' her flat spreadèn bonnet so big an' roun'
As a gre't pewter dish a-turn'd upside down;
When we all did draw near
In a cluster to hear
O' the merry wold soul how she did use
To walk and to dance wi' her high-heel shoes.
She'd a gown wi' great flowers lik' hollyhocks,
An' zome stockèns o' gramfer's a-knit wi' clocks,
An' a token she kept under lock an' key,—
A small lock ov his heäir off avore 't wer grey.
An' her eyes wer red
An' she shook her head,
When we'd all a-look'd at it, an' she did use
To lock it away wi' her weddèn shoes.
An' zome stockèns o' gramfer's a-knit wi' clocks,
An' a token she kept under lock an' key,—
A small lock ov his heäir off avore 't wer grey.
An' her eyes wer red
An' she shook her head,
When we'd all a-look'd at it, an' she did use
To lock it away wi' her weddèn shoes.
She could tell us such teäles about heavy snows,
An' o' raïns an' o' floods when the waters rose
All up into the housen, an' carr'd awoy
All the bridge wi' a man an' his little bwoy;
An o' vog an' vrost,
An' o' vo'k a-lost,
An' o' peärties at Chris'mas, when she did use
Vor to walk hwome wi' gramfer in high-heel shoes.
An' o' raïns an' o' floods when the waters rose
All up into the housen, an' carr'd awoy
All the bridge wi' a man an' his little bwoy;
An o' vog an' vrost,
An' o' vo'k a-lost,
An' o' peärties at Chris'mas, when she did use
Vor to walk hwome wi' gramfer in high-heel shoes.
Ev'ry Chris'mas she lik'd vor the bells to ring,
An' to have in the zingers to hear em zing
The wold carols she heärd many years a-gone,
While she warm'd em zome cider avore the bron';
An' she'd look an' smile
At our dancèn, while
She did tell how her friends now a-gone did use
To reely wi' her in their high-heel shoes.
An' to have in the zingers to hear em zing
129
While she warm'd em zome cider avore the bron';
An' she'd look an' smile
At our dancèn, while
She did tell how her friends now a-gone did use
To reely wi' her in their high-heel shoes.
Ah! an' how she did like vor to deck wi' red
Holly-berries the window an' wold clock's head,
An' the clavy wi' boughs o' some bright green leaves,
An' to meäke twoast an' eäle upon Chris'mas eves;
But she's now, drough greäce,
In a better pleäce,
Though we'll never vorget her, poor soul, nor lose
Gramfer's token ov heäir, nor her weddèn shoes.
Holly-berries the window an' wold clock's head,
An' the clavy wi' boughs o' some bright green leaves,
An' to meäke twoast an' eäle upon Chris'mas eves;
But she's now, drough greäce,
In a better pleäce,
Though we'll never vorget her, poor soul, nor lose
Gramfer's token ov heäir, nor her weddèn shoes.
ZUNSHEEN IN THE WINTER.
The winter clouds, that long did hide
The zun, be all a-blown azide,
An' in the light, noo longer dim,
Do sheen the ivy that do clim'
The tower's zide an' elem's stim;
An' holmen bushes, in between
The leafless thorns, be bright an' green
To zunsheen o' the winter.
The zun, be all a-blown azide,
An' in the light, noo longer dim,
Do sheen the ivy that do clim'
The tower's zide an' elem's stim;
An' holmen bushes, in between
The leafless thorns, be bright an' green
To zunsheen o' the winter.
The trees, that yesterday did twist
In wind's a-drevèn raïn an' mist,
Do now drow sheädes out, long an' still;
But roarèn watervals do vill
Their whirlèn pools below the hill,
Where, wi' her païl upon the stile,
A-gwaïn a-milkèn Jeäne do smile
To zunsheen o' the winter.
In wind's a-drevèn raïn an' mist,
130
But roarèn watervals do vill
Their whirlèn pools below the hill,
Where, wi' her païl upon the stile,
A-gwaïn a-milkèn Jeäne do smile
To zunsheen o' the winter.
The birds do sheäke, wi' plaÿsome skips,
The raïn-drops off the bushes' tips,
A-chirripèn wi' merry sound;
While over all the grassy ground
The wind's a-whirlèn round an' round
So softly, that the day do seem
Mwore lik' a zummer in a dream,
Than zunsheen in the winter.
The raïn-drops off the bushes' tips,
A-chirripèn wi' merry sound;
While over all the grassy ground
The wind's a-whirlèn round an' round
So softly, that the day do seem
Mwore lik' a zummer in a dream,
Than zunsheen in the winter.
The wold vo'k now do meet abrode,
An' tell o' winters they've a-know'd;
When snow wer long above the groun',
Or floods broke all the bridges down,
Or wind unheal'd a half the town,—
The teäles o' wold times long a-gone,
But ever dear to think upon,
The zunsheen o' their winter.
An' tell o' winters they've a-know'd;
When snow wer long above the groun',
Or floods broke all the bridges down,
Or wind unheal'd a half the town,—
The teäles o' wold times long a-gone,
But ever dear to think upon,
The zunsheen o' their winter.
Vor now to them noo brook can run,
Noo hill can feäce the winter zun,
Noo leaves can vall, noo flow'rs can feäde,
Noo snow can hide the grasses bleäde,
Noo vrost can whiten in the sheäde,
Noo day can come, but what do bring
To mind ageän their early spring,
That's now a-turn'd to winter.
Noo hill can feäce the winter zun,
Noo leaves can vall, noo flow'rs can feäde,
Noo snow can hide the grasses bleäde,
Noo vrost can whiten in the sheäde,
Noo day can come, but what do bring
To mind ageän their early spring,
That's now a-turn'd to winter.
131
THE WEEPEN LEADY.
When, leäte o' nights, above the green
By thik wold house, the moon do sheen,
A leädy there, a-hangèn low
Her head, 's a-walkèn to an' fro
In robes so white's the driven snow,
Wi' woone eärm down, while woone do rest
All lily-white athirt the breast
O' thik poor weepèn leädy.
By thik wold house, the moon do sheen,
A leädy there, a-hangèn low
Her head, 's a-walkèn to an' fro
In robes so white's the driven snow,
Wi' woone eärm down, while woone do rest
All lily-white athirt the breast
O' thik poor weepèn leädy.
The whirlèn wind an' whis'lèn squall
Do sheäke the ivy by the wall,
An' meäke the plyèn tree-tops rock,
But never ruffle her white frock;
An' slammèn door an' rattlèn lock,
That in thik empty house do sound,
Do never seem to meäke look round
Thik ever downcast leädy.
Do sheäke the ivy by the wall,
An' meäke the plyèn tree-tops rock,
But never ruffle her white frock;
An' slammèn door an' rattlèn lock,
That in thik empty house do sound,
Do never seem to meäke look round
Thik ever downcast leädy.
A leädy, as the teäle do goo,
That woonce liv'd there, an'lov'd too true,
Wer by a young man cast azide,
A mother sad, but not a bride;
An' then her father, in his pride
An' anger, offer'd woone o' two
Vull bitter things to undergoo
To thik poor weepèn leädy:
That woonce liv'd there, an'lov'd too true,
Wer by a young man cast azide,
A mother sad, but not a bride;
An' then her father, in his pride
An' anger, offer'd woone o' two
Vull bitter things to undergoo
To thik poor weepèn leädy:
That she herzelf should leäve his door,
To darken it ageän noo mwore;
Or that her little plaÿsome chile,
A-zent away a thousand mile,
Should never meet her eyes to smile
An' plaÿ ageän; till she, in sheäme,
Should die an' leäve a tarnish'd neäme,
A sad vorseäken leädy.
To darken it ageän noo mwore;
132
A-zent away a thousand mile,
Should never meet her eyes to smile
An' plaÿ ageän; till she, in sheäme,
Should die an' leäve a tarnish'd neäme,
A sad vorseäken leädy.
“Let me be lost,” she cried, “the while
I do but know vor my poor chile;”
An' left the hwome ov all her pride,
To wander drough the worold wide,
Wi' grief that vew but she ha' tried:
An' lik' a flow'r a blow ha' broke,
She wither'd wi' the deadly stroke,
An' died a weepèn leädy.
I do but know vor my poor chile;”
An' left the hwome ov all her pride,
To wander drough the worold wide,
Wi' grief that vew but she ha' tried:
An' lik' a flow'r a blow ha' broke,
She wither'd wi' the deadly stroke,
An' died a weepèn leädy.
An' she do keep a-comèn on
To zee her father dead an' gone,
As if her soul could have noo rest
Avore her teary cheäk's a-prest
By his vorgivèn kiss. Zoo blest
Be they that can but live in love,
An' vind a pleäce o' rest above
Unlik' the weepèn leädy.
To zee her father dead an' gone,
As if her soul could have noo rest
Avore her teary cheäk's a-prest
By his vorgivèn kiss. Zoo blest
Be they that can but live in love,
An' vind a pleäce o' rest above
Unlik' the weepèn leädy.
133
THE HAPPY DAYS WHEN I WER YOUNG.
In happy days when I wer young,
An' had noo ho, an' laugh'd an' zung,
The maïd wer merry by her cow,
An' men wer merry wi' the plough;
But never talk'd, at hwome or out
O' doors, o' what's a-talk'd about
By many now,—that to despise
The laws o' God an' man is wise.
Wi' daily health, an' daily bread,
An' thatch above their shelter'd head,
They velt noo fear, an' had noo spite,
To keep their eyes awake at night;
But slept in peace wi' God on high
An' man below, an' fit to die.
An' had noo ho, an' laugh'd an' zung,
The maïd wer merry by her cow,
An' men wer merry wi' the plough;
But never talk'd, at hwome or out
O' doors, o' what's a-talk'd about
By many now,—that to despise
The laws o' God an' man is wise.
Wi' daily health, an' daily bread,
An' thatch above their shelter'd head,
They velt noo fear, an' had noo spite,
To keep their eyes awake at night;
But slept in peace wi' God on high
An' man below, an' fit to die.
O' grassy meäd an' woody nook,
An' waters o' the windèn brook,
That sprung below the vu'st dark sky
That raïn'd, to run till seas be dry;
An' hills a-stannèn on while all
The works o' man do rise an' vall;
An' trees the toddlèn child do vind
At vu'st, an' leäve at last behind;
I wish that you could now unvwold
The peace an' jäy o' times o' wold,
An' tell, when death do still my tongue,
O' happy days when I wer young.
Vrom where wer all this venom brought,
To kill our hope an' taïnt our thought?
Clear brook! thy water coulden bring
Such venom from thy rocky spring;
Nor could it come in zummer blights,
Or reävèn storms o' winter nights,
Or in the cloud an' viry stroke
O' thunder that do split the woak.
An' waters o' the windèn brook,
That sprung below the vu'st dark sky
That raïn'd, to run till seas be dry;
An' hills a-stannèn on while all
The works o' man do rise an' vall;
An' trees the toddlèn child do vind
At vu'st, an' leäve at last behind;
I wish that you could now unvwold
The peace an' jäy o' times o' wold,
An' tell, when death do still my tongue,
O' happy days when I wer young.
Vrom where wer all this venom brought,
To kill our hope an' taïnt our thought?
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Such venom from thy rocky spring;
Nor could it come in zummer blights,
Or reävèn storms o' winter nights,
Or in the cloud an' viry stroke
O' thunder that do split the woak.
O valley dear! I wish that I
'D a-liv'd in former times to die
Wi' all the happy souls that trod
Thy turf in peace, an' died to God;
Or gone wi' them that laugh'd an' zung
In happy days when I wer young!
'D a-liv'd in former times to die
Wi' all the happy souls that trod
Thy turf in peace, an' died to God;
Or gone wi' them that laugh'd an' zung
In happy days when I wer young!
IN THE STILLNESS O' THE NIGHT.
Ov all the housen o' the pleäce,
There 's woone where I do like to call
By day or night the best ov all,
To zee my Fanny's smilèn feäce;
An' there the steätely trees do grow,
A-rockèn as the win' do blow,
While she do sweetly sleep below,
In the stillness o' the night.
There 's woone where I do like to call
By day or night the best ov all,
To zee my Fanny's smilèn feäce;
An' there the steätely trees do grow,
A-rockèn as the win' do blow,
While she do sweetly sleep below,
In the stillness o' the night.
An' there, at evenèn, I do goo
A-hoppèn over geätes an' bars
By twinklèn light o' winter stars,
When snow do clumper to my shoe;
An' zometimes we do slyly catch
A chat an hour upon the stratch,
An' peärt wi' whispers at the hatch
In stillness o' the night.
A-hoppèn over geätes an' bars
By twinklèn light o' winter stars,
When snow do clumper to my shoe;
135
A chat an hour upon the stratch,
An' peärt wi' whispers at the hatch
In stillness o' the night.
An' zometimes she do goo to zome
Young naïgh bours' housen down the pleäce,
An' I do get a clue to treäce
Her out, an' goo to zee her hwome;
An' I do wish a vield a mile,
As she do sweetly chat an' smile
Along the drove, or at the stile,
In the stillness o' the night.
Young naïgh bours' housen down the pleäce,
An' I do get a clue to treäce
Her out, an' goo to zee her hwome;
An' I do wish a vield a mile,
As she do sweetly chat an' smile
Along the drove, or at the stile,
In the stillness o' the night.
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.
137
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 CARTER.
O, I be a carter, wi' my whip
A-smackèn loud, as by my zide,
Up over hill, an' down the dip,
The heavy lwoad do slowly ride.
A-smackèn loud, as by my zide,
Up over hill, an' down the dip,
The heavy lwoad do slowly ride.
An' I do haul in all the crops,
An' I do bring in vuzz vrom down;
An' I do goo vor wood to copse,
An' car the corn an' straw to town.
An' I do bring in vuzz vrom down;
An' I do goo vor wood to copse,
An' car the corn an' straw to town.
An' I do goo vor lime, an' bring
Hwome cider wi' my sleek-heäir'd team,
An' smack my limber whip an' zing,
While all their bells do gaïly cheeme.
Hwome cider wi' my sleek-heäir'd team,
An' smack my limber whip an' zing,
While all their bells do gaïly cheeme.
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An' I do always know the pleäce
To gi'e the hosses breath, or drug;
An' ev'ry hoss do know my feäce,
An' mind my 'mether ho! an' whug!
To gi'e the hosses breath, or drug;
An' ev'ry hoss do know my feäce,
An' mind my 'mether ho! an' whug!
An' merry haÿ-meäkers do ride
Vrom vield in zummer wi' their prongs,
In my blue waggon, zide by zide
Upon the reäves, a-zingèn zongs.
Vrom vield in zummer wi' their prongs,
In my blue waggon, zide by zide
Upon the reäves, a-zingèn zongs.
An' when the vrost to catch the stream,
An' oves wi' icicles be hung,
My pantèn hosses' breath do steam
In white-grass'd vields, a-haulèn dung.
An' oves wi' icicles be hung,
My pantèn hosses' breath do steam
In white-grass'd vields, a-haulèn dung.
An' mine's the waggon fit vor lwoads,
An' mine be lwoads to cut a rout;
An' mine's a team, in routy rwoads,
To pull a lwoaded waggon out.
An' mine be lwoads to cut a rout;
An' mine's a team, in routy rwoads,
To pull a lwoaded waggon out.
A zull is nothèn when do come
Behind their lags; an' they do teäke
A roller as they would a drum,
An' harrow as they would a reäke.
Behind their lags; an' they do teäke
A roller as they would a drum,
An' harrow as they would a reäke.
O! I be carter, wi' my whip
A-smackèn loud, as by my zide,
Up over hill an' down the dip,
The heavy lwoad do slowly ride.
A-smackèn loud, as by my zide,
Up over hill an' down the dip,
The heavy lwoad do slowly ride.
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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.
KEEPEN UP O' CHRIS'MAS.
An' zoo you didden come athirt,
To have zome fun last night: how wer't?
Vor we'd a-work'd wi' all our might
To scour the iron things up bright,
An' brush'd an' scrubb'd the house all drough;
An' brought in vor a brand, a plock
O' wood so big's an uppèn-stock,
An' hung a bough o' misseltoo,
An' ax'd a merry friend or two,
To keepèn up o' Chris'mas.
To have zome fun last night: how wer't?
Vor we'd a-work'd wi' all our might
To scour the iron things up bright,
An' brush'd an' scrubb'd the house all drough;
An' brought in vor a brand, a plock
O' wood so big's an uppèn-stock,
An' hung a bough o' misseltoo,
An' ax'd a merry friend or two,
To keepèn up o' Chris'mas.
An' there wer wold an' young; an' Bill,
Soon after dark, stalk'd up vrom mill.
An' when he wer a-comèn near,
He whissled loud vor me to hear;
Then roun' my head my frock I roll'd,
An' stood in orcha'd like a post,
To meäke en think I wer a ghost.
But he wer up to't, an' did scowld
To vind me stannèn in the cwold,
A-keepèn up o' Chris'mas.
Soon after dark, stalk'd up vrom mill.
An' when he wer a-comèn near,
He whissled loud vor me to hear;
Then roun' my head my frock I roll'd,
141
To meäke en think I wer a ghost.
But he wer up to't, an' did scowld
To vind me stannèn in the cwold,
A-keepèn up o' Chris'mas.
We plaÿed at forfeits, an' we spun
The trencher roun', an' meäde such fun!
An' had a geäme o' dree-ceärd loo,
An' then begun to hunt the shoe.
An' all the wold folk zittèn near,
A-chattèn roun' the vier pleäce,
Did smile in woone another's feäce,
An' sheäke right hands wi' hearty cheer,
An let their left hands spill their beer,
A-keepèn up o' Chris'mas.
The trencher roun', an' meäde such fun!
An' had a geäme o' dree-ceärd loo,
An' then begun to hunt the shoe.
An' all the wold folk zittèn near,
A-chattèn roun' the vier pleäce,
Did smile in woone another's feäce,
An' sheäke right hands wi' hearty cheer,
An let their left hands spill their beer,
A-keepèn up o' Chris'mas.
ZITTEN OUT THE WOLD YEAR.
Why, raïn or sheen, or blow or snow,
I zaid, if I could stand so's,
I'd come, vor all a friend or foe,
To sheäke ye by the hand, so's;
An' spend, wi' kinsvo'k near an' dear,
A happy evenèn, woonce a year,
A-zot wi' me'th
Avore the he'th
To zee the new year in, so's.
I zaid, if I could stand so's,
I'd come, vor all a friend or foe,
To sheäke ye by the hand, so's;
An' spend, wi' kinsvo'k near an' dear,
A happy evenèn, woonce a year,
A-zot wi' me'th
Avore the he'th
To zee the new year in, so's.
142
There's Jim and Tom, a-grown the size
O' men, gre't lusty chaps, so's,
An' Fanny wï' her sloo-black eyes,
Her mother's very daps, so's;
An' little Bill, so brown's a nut,
An' Poll, a gigglèn little slut,
I hope will shoot
Another voot
The year that's comèn in, so's.
O' men, gre't lusty chaps, so's,
An' Fanny wï' her sloo-black eyes,
Her mother's very daps, so's;
An' little Bill, so brown's a nut,
An' Poll, a gigglèn little slut,
I hope will shoot
Another voot
The year that's comèn in, so's.
An' there, upon his mother's knee,
So peärt do look about, so's,
The little woone ov all, to zee
His vu'st wold year goo out, so's.
An' zoo mid God bless all o's still,
Gwaïn up or down along the hill,
To meet in glee
Ageän to zee
A happy new year in, so's.
So peärt do look about, so's,
The little woone ov all, to zee
His vu'st wold year goo out, so's.
An' zoo mid God bless all o's still,
Gwaïn up or down along the hill,
To meet in glee
Ageän to zee
A happy new year in, so's.
The wold clock's han' do softly steal
Up roun' the year's last hour, so's;
Zoo let the han'-bells ring a peal,
Like them a-hung in tow'r, so's.
Here, here be two vor Tom, an' two
Vor Fanny, an' a peäir vor you;
We'll meäke em swing,
An' meäke em ring,
The merry new year in, so's.
Up roun' the year's last hour, so's;
Zoo let the han'-bells ring a peal,
Like them a-hung in tow'r, so's.
Here, here be two vor Tom, an' two
Vor Fanny, an' a peäir vor you;
We'll meäke em swing,
An' meäke em ring,
The merry new year in, so's.
Tom, mind your time there; you be wrong.
Come, let your bells all sound, so's:
A little clwoser Poll; ding, dong!
There, now 'tis right all round, so's.
The clock's a-strikèn twelve, d'ye hear?
Ting, ting, ding, dong! Farewell, wold year!
'Tis gone, 'tis gone!—
Goo on, goo on,
An' ring the new woone in, so's!
Come, let your bells all sound, so's:
143
There, now 'tis right all round, so's.
The clock's a-strikèn twelve, d'ye hear?
Ting, ting, ding, dong! Farewell, wold year!
'Tis gone, 'tis gone!—
Goo on, goo on,
An' ring the new woone in, so's!
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,
144
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.
MEARY-ANN'S CHILD.
Meary-Ann wer alwone wi' her beäby in eärms,
In her house wi' the trees over head,
Vor her husban' wer out in the night an' the storms,
In his business a-tweilèn vor bread;
An' she, as the wind in the elems did roar,
Did grievy vor Robert all night out o' door.
In her house wi' the trees over head,
Vor her husban' wer out in the night an' the storms,
In his business a-tweilèn vor bread;
An' she, as the wind in the elems did roar,
Did grievy vor Robert all night out o' door.
145
An' her kinsvo'k an' naï'bours did zay ov her chile,
(Under the high elem tree),
That a prettier never did babble or smile
Up o' top ov a proud mother's knee;
An' his mother did toss en, an' kiss en, and call
En her darlèn, an' life, an' her hope, an' her all.
(Under the high elem tree),
That a prettier never did babble or smile
Up o' top ov a proud mother's knee;
An' his mother did toss en, an' kiss en, and call
En her darlèn, an' life, an' her hope, an' her all.
But she vound in the evenèn the chile werden well,
(Under the dark elem tree),
An she thought she could gi'e all the worold to tell,
Vor a truth what his aïlèn mid be;
An' she thought o'en last in her praÿers at night,
An' she look'd at en last as she put out the light.
(Under the dark elem tree),
An she thought she could gi'e all the worold to tell,
Vor a truth what his aïlèn mid be;
An' she thought o'en last in her praÿers at night,
An' she look'd at en last as she put out the light.
An' she vound en grow worse in the dead o' the night
(Under the dark elem tree),
An' she press'd en ageän her warm bosom so tight,
An' she rock'd en so sorrowfully;
An' there laid a-neslèn the poor little bwoy,
Till his struggles grew weak, an' his cries died awoy.
(Under the dark elem tree),
An' she press'd en ageän her warm bosom so tight,
An' she rock'd en so sorrowfully;
An' there laid a-neslèn the poor little bwoy,
Till his struggles grew weak, an' his cries died awoy.
An' the moon wer a-sheenèn down into the pleäce,
(Under the dark elem tree),
An' his mother could zee that his lips an' his feäce
Wer as white as cleän axen could be;
An' her tongue wer a-tied an' her still heart did zwell,
Till her senses come back wi' the vu'st tear that vell.
(Under the dark elem tree),
An' his mother could zee that his lips an' his feäce
Wer as white as cleän axen could be;
An' her tongue wer a-tied an' her still heart did zwell,
Till her senses come back wi' the vu'st tear that vell.
Never mwore can she veel his warm feäce in her breast,
(Under the green elem tree),
Vor his eyes be a-shut, an' his hands be at rest,
An' he's now vrom his païn a-zet free;
Vor his soul, we do know, is to heaven a-vled,
Where noo païn is a-known, an' noo tears be a-shed.
(Under the green elem tree),
Vor his eyes be a-shut, an' his hands be at rest,
An' he's now vrom his païn a-zet free;
Vor his soul, we do know, is to heaven a-vled,
Where noo païn is a-known, an' noo tears be a-shed.
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Eclogue.
FATHER COME HWOME.
John, Wife, an' Child.
CHILD.O mother, mother! be the teäties done?
Here's father now a-comèn down the track.
He got his nitch o' wood upon his back,
An' such a speäker in en! I'll be bound,
He's long enough to reach vrom ground
Up to the top ov ouer tun;
'Tis jist the very thing vor Jack an' I
To goo a-colepecksèn wi', by an' by.
WIFE.
The teäties must be ready pretty nigh;
Do teäke woone np upon the fork' an' try.
The ceäke upon the vier, too, 's a-burnèn,
I be afeärd: do run an' zee, an' turn en.
JOHN.
Well, mother! here I be woonce mwore, at hwome.
WIFE.
Ah! I be very glad you be a-come.
You be a-tired an' cwold enough I s'pose;
Zit down an'rest your bwones, an' warm your nose.
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Why I be nippy: what is there to eat?
WIFE.
Your supper's nearly ready. I've a got
Some teäties here a-doèn in the pot;
I wish wi' all my heart I had some meat.
I got a little ceäke too, here, a-beäken o'n
Upon the vier.' Tis done by this time, though.
He's nice an' moist; vor when I wer a-meäkèn o'n
I stuck some bits ov apple in the dough.
CHILD.
Well, father; what d'ye think? The pig got out
This mornèn; an'avore we zeed or heärd en,
He ran about, an' got out into geärden,
An' routed up the groun' zoo wi' his snout!
JOHN.
Now only think o' that! You must contrive
To keep en in, or else he'll never thrive.
CHILD.
An' father, what d'ye think? I voun' to-day
The nest where thik wold hen ov our's do lay:
'Twer out in orcha'd hedge, an' had vive aggs.
WIFE.
Lo'k there: how wet you got your veet an' lags!
How did ye get in such a pickle, Jahn?
JOHN.
I broke my hoss, an' been a-fwo'ced to stan'
All's day in mud an' water vor to dig,
An' meäde myzelf so wetshod as a pig.
148
Father, teäke off your shoes, then come, and I
Will bring your wold woones vor ye, nice an' dry
WIFE.
An' have ye got much hedgèn mwore to do?
JOHN.
Enough to last vor dree weeks mwore or zoo.
WIFE.
An' when y'ave done the job you be about,
D'ye think you'll have another vound ye out?
JOHN.
O yes, there'll be some mwore: vor after that,
I got a job o' trenchèn to goo at;
An' then zome trees to shroud, an' wood to vell,—
Zoo I do hope to rub on pretty well
Till zummer time; an' then I be to cut
The wood an' do the trenchèn by the tut.
CHILD.
An' nex' week, father, I'm a-gwaïn to goo
A-pickèn stwones, d'ye know, vor Farmer True.
WIFE.
An' little Jack, you know, 's a-gwaïn to eärn
A penny too, a-keepèn birds off corn.
JOHN.
O brave! What wages do 'e meän to gi'e?
WIFE.
She dreppence vor a day, an' twopence he.
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Well, Polly; thou must work a little spracker
When thou bist out, or else thou wu'ten pick
A dungpot lwoad o' stwones up very quick.
CHILD.
Oh! yes I shall. But Jack do want a clacker:
An' father, wull ye teäke an' cut
A stick or two to meäke his hut.
JOHN.
You wench! why you be always up a-baggèn.
I be too tired now to-night, I'm sure,
To zet a-doèn any mwore:
Zoo I shall goo up out o' the waÿ o' the waggon.
Eclogue.
A GHOST.
Jem an' Dick.
JEM.This is a darkish evenèn; b'ye a-feärd
O' zights? Theäse leäne's a-haunted, I've a-heärd.
DICK.
No, I be'nt much a-feär'd. If vo'k don't strive
To over-reach me while they be alive,
I don't much think the dead wull ha' the will
To come back here to do me any ill.
150
Vrom candle-lightèn till the cock did crow;
But never met wi' nothèn bad enough
To be much worse than what I be myzuf;
Though I, lik' others, have a-heärd vo'k zay
The gre't house is a-haunted, night an' day.
JEM.
Aye; I do mind woone winter 'twer a-zaid
The farmer's vo'k could hardly sleep a-bed,
They heärd at night such scuffèns an' such jumpèns,
Such ugly naïses an' such rottlèn thumpèns.
DICK.
Aye, I do mind I heärd his son, young Sammy,
Tell how the chairs did dance an' doors did slammy;
He stood to it—though zome vo'k woulden heed en—
He didden only hear the ghost, but zeed en;
An', hang me! if I han't a'most a-shook,
To hear en tell what ugly sheäpes it took.
Did zometimes come vull six veet high, or higher,
In white, he zaid, wi' eyes lik' coals o' vier;
An' zometimes, wi' a feäce so peäle as milk,
A smileless leädy, all a-deck'd in silk.
His heäir, he zaid, did use to stand upright,
So stiff's a bunch o' rushes, wi' his fright.
JEM.
An' then you know that zome'hat is a-zeed
Down there in leäne, an' over in the meäd,
A-comèn zometimes lik' a slinkèn hound,
Or rollèn lik' a vleece along the ground.
An' woonce, when gramfer wi' his wold grey meäre
Wer ridèn down the leäne vrom Shroton feäir,
151
The road just under en, an' leäm'd his hoss.
DICK.
Aye; did ye ever hear—vo'k said 'twer true—
O' what bevell Jack Hine zome years agoo?
Woone vrosty night, d'ye know, at Chris'mas tide,
Jack, an' another chap or two bezide,
'D a-been out, zomewhere up at tother end
O' parish, to a naïghbour's house to spend
A merry hour, an' mid a-took a cup
Or two o' eäle a-keepèn Chris'mas up:
Zoo I do lot 'twer leäte avore the peärty
'D a-burnt their bron out; I do lot, avore
They thought o' turnèn out o' door
'Twer mornèn, vor their friendship then wer hearty.
Well; clwose ageän the vootpath that do leäd
Vrom higher parish over withy-meäd,
There's still a hollow, you do know: they tried there
In former times, to meäke a cattle-pit,
But gi'ed it up, because they couldden get
The water any time to bide there.
Zoo when the merry fellows got
Just overright theäse lwonesome spot,
Jack zeed a gre't big house-dog wi' a collar,
A-stannèn down in thik there hollor,
Lo'k there, he zaïd, there's zome gre't dog a-prowlèn;
I'll just goo down an' gi'en a goodish lick
Or two wi' theäse here groun'-ash stick,
An' zend the shaggy rascal hwome a-howlèn.
Zoo there he ran, an' gi'ed en a good whack
Wi' his gre't ashen stick a-thirt his back;
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In vower pieces; an' the pieces vled
Out ov his hand all up above his head,
An' pitch'd in vower corners o' the groun'.
An' then he velt his han' get all so num',
He coulden veel a vinger or a thum';
An' after that his eärm begun to zwell,
An' in the night a-bed he vound
The skin o't peelèn off all round.
'Twer near a month avore he got it well.
JEM,
That wer vor hettèn ō'n. He should a let en
Alwone, d'ye zee: 'twer wicked vor to het en.
| Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect | |