Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/139

Rh The wold clock’s han’ do softly steal &emsp;Up roun’ the year’s last hour, so’s; Zoo let the han’-bells ring a peal, &emsp;Lik’ them a-hung in tow’r, so’s. Here, here be two vor Tom, an’ two Vor Fanny, an’ a peäir vor you; &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;We’ll meäke em swing, &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;An’ meäke em ring, &emsp;The merry new year in, so’s.

Tom, mind your time there; you be wrong. &emsp;Come, let your bells all sound, so’s: A little clwoser, Poll; ding, dong! &emsp;There, now ’tis right all round, so’s. The clock’s a-strikèn twelve, d’ye hear? Ting, ting, ding, dong! Farewell, wold year! &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;’Tis gone, ’tis gone!— &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;Goo on, goo on, &emsp;An’ ring the new woone in, so’s!

now mahogany’s the goo. An’ good wold English woak won’t do. I wish vo’k always mid avvword Hot meals upon a woakènwoaken [sic] 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 mäidens 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.