Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/193

Rh But if a man you midden like to ’front, Should chance to call upon ye, Tom, zome day, An’ ax ye vor your vote, what could ye zay? Why if you woulden answer, or should grunt Or bark, he’d know you’d meän “I won’t.” To promise woone a vote an’ not to gi’e’t, Is but to be a liar an’ a cheat. An’ then, bezides, when he did count the balls, An’ vind white promises a-turn’d half black; Why then he’d think the voters all a pack O’ rogues together,—ev’ry woone o’m false. An’ if he had the power, very soon Perhaps he’d vall upon em, ev’ry woone. The times be pinchèn me, so well as you, But I can’t tell what ever they can do.

Why meäke the farmers gi’e their leäbourèn men Mwore wages,—half or twice so much ageän As what they got.

&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;But, Thomas, you can’t meäke A man paÿ mwore away than he can teäke. If you do meäke en gi’e, to till a vield, So much ageän as what the groun’ do yield, He’ll shut out farmèn—or he’ll be a goose— An’ goo an’ put his money out to use. Wages be low because the hands be plenty; They mid be higher if the hands wer skenty. Leäbour, the seäme’s the produce o’ the vield, Do zell at market price—jist what ’till yield. Thou wouldsten gi’e a zixpence, I do guess, Vor zix fresh aggs, if zix did zell for less.