Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/179

Rh An’ two did grow scraggy out over the road, &emsp;An’ they wer call’d Jimmy’s an’ mine; An’ tother wer Jeännet’s, much kindlier grow’d, &emsp;Wi’ a knotless an’ white ribbèd rine. An’ there, o’ fine nights avore gwäingwaïn [sic] in to rest, &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;We did dance, vull o’ life, &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;To the sound o’ the fife, Or plaÿ at some geäme that poor Jeännet lik’d best.

Zoo happy wer we by the woaks o’ the green, &emsp;Till we lost sister Jeännet, our pride; Vor when she wer come to her last blushèn teen, &emsp;She suddenly zicken’d an’ died. An’ avore the green leaves in the fall wer gone by, &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;The lightnèn struck dead &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;Her woaken tree’s head, An’ left en a-stripp’d to the wintery sky.

But woone ov his eäcorns, a-zet in the Fall, &emsp;Come up the Spring after, below The trees at her head-stwone ’ithin the church-wall, &emsp;An’ mother, to see how did grow, Shed a tear; an’ when father an’ she wer bwoth dead, &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;There they wer laid deep, &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;Wi’ their Jeännet, to sleep, Wi’ her at his zide, an’ her tree at her head.

An’ vo’k do still call the wold house the dree woaks, &emsp;Vor thik is a-reckon’d that’s down, As mother, a-neämèn her childern to vo’ks, &emsp;Meäde dree when but two wer a-voun’; An’ zaid that hereafter she knew she should zee &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;Why God, that’s above, &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;Vound fit in his love To strike wi’ his han’ the poor maïd an’ her tree.