Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/22

6 An’ riddèn house is such a caddle, I shan’t be over keen vor mwore ō’t, Not yet a while, you mid be sure ō’t,— I’d rather keep to woone wold staddle.

Well, zoo, avore the east begun To redden wi’ the comèn zun, We left the beds our mossy thatch Wer never mwore to overstratch, An’ borrow’d uncle’s wold hoss Dragon, To bring the slowly lumbrèn waggon, An’ when he come, we veil a-packèn The bedsteads, wi’ their rwopes an’ zackèn; An’ then put up the wold eärm-chair, An’ cwoffer vull ov e’then-ware, An’ vier-dogs, an’ copper kittle, Wi’ crocks an’ saucepans, big an’ little; An’ fryèn-pan, vor aggs to slide In butter round his hissèn zide, An’ gridire’s even bars, to bear The drippèn steäke above the gleäre O’ brightly-glowèn coals. An’ then, All up o’ top o’ them ageän The weaken bwoard, where we did eat Our croust o’ bread or bit o’ meat,— An’ when the bwoard wer up, we tied Upon the reäves, along the zide, The woäken stools, his glossy meätes, Bwoth when he’s beäre, or when the pleätes Do clatter loud wi’ knives, below Our merry feäces in a row. An’ put between his lags, turn’d up’ard, The zalt-box an’ the corner cupb’ard. An’ then we laid the wold clock-ceäse, All dumb, athirt upon his feäce, Vor we’d a-left, I needen tell ye,