Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/140

124 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 above 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 nails, 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 war 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.

rook’s nest do rock on the tree-top Where vew foes can stand; The martin’s is high, an’ is deep In the steep cliff o’ zand. But thou, love, a-sleepèn where vootsteps Mid come to thy bed, Hast father an’ mother to watch thee An’ shelter thy head. &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;Lullaby, Lilybrow. Lie asleep; &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;Blest be thy rest.