Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/173

Rh At Burn, where mother’s young friends know’d &emsp;The vu’st her maïden neäme, The zunny knaps, the narrow road &emsp;An’ green, be still the seäme; The squier’s house, an’ ev’ry ground &emsp;That now his son ha’ zwold, O, An’ ev’ry wood he hunted round &emsp;’S a pleäce a teäle’s a-twold o’.

The maïd a-lov’d to our heart’s core, &emsp;The dearest of our kin, Do meäke us like the very door &emsp;Where they went out an’ in. ’Tis zome’hat touchèn that bevel &emsp;Poor flesh an’ blood o’ wold, O, Do meäke us like to zee so well &emsp;The pleäce a teäle’s a-twold o’.

When blushèn Jenny vu’st did come &emsp;To zee our Poll o’ nights, An’ had to goo back leätish hwome, &emsp;Where vo’k did zee the zights, A-chattèn loud below the sky &emsp;So dark, an’ winds so cwold, O, How proud war I to zee her by &emsp;The pleäce the teäle’s a-twold o’.

Zoo whether ’tis the humpy ground &emsp;That wer a battle viel’, Or mossy house, all ivy-bound, &emsp;An’ vallèn down piece-meal; Or if ’tis but a scraggy tree, &emsp;Where beauty smil’d o’ wold, O, How dearly I do like to zee &emsp;The pleäce a teäle’s a-twold o’.