Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/133

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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 to 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 girtest pride, The settle by the vier zide. &emsp;Ah! gi’e me, if I wer a squier, &emsp;The settle an’ the girt 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 twos 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;