Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/152

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no! I ben’t a-runnèn down The pretty maïden’s o’ the town, &emsp;Nor wishèn o’m noo harm; But she that I would marry vu’st, To sheäre my good luck or my crust, &emsp;’S a-bred up at a farm. In town, a maïd do zee mwore life, &emsp;An’ I don’t under-reäte her; But ten to woone the sprackest wife &emsp;’S a farmer’s woldest dā’ter.

Vor she do veed, wi’ tender ceäre, The little woones, an’ peärt their heäir, &emsp;An’ keep em neat an’ pirty; An’ keep the saucy little chaps O’ bwoys in trim wi’ dreats an’ slaps, &emsp;When they be wild an’ dirty. Zoo if you’d have a bus’lèn wife, &emsp;An’ childern well look’d after, The maïd to help ye all drough life &emsp;’S a farmer’s woldest dā’ter.

An’ she can iorn up an’ vwold A book o’ clothes wi’ young or wold, &emsp;An’ zalt an’ roll the butter; An’ meäke brown bread, an’ elder wine, An’ zalt down meat in pans o’ brine, &emsp;An’ do what you can put her. Zoo if you’ve wherewi’, an’ would vind &emsp;A wife wo’th lookèn ā’ter, Goo an’ get a farmer in the mind &emsp;To gi’e ye his woldest dā’ter.