Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/283

Rh But ’tis drevèn out, Thomas, an’ hevèn out. &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;Trample noo grounds, Unless you be after the hounds.

Ah! the Squiër o’ Culver-dell Hall &emsp;Wer as diff’rent as light is vrom dark, Wi’ zome vo’k that, as evenèn did vall, &emsp;Had a-broke drough long grass in his park; Vor he went, wi’ a smile, vor to meet &emsp;Wi’ the trespassers while they did pass, An’ he zaid, “I do fear you’ll catch cwold in your veet, &emsp;You’ve a-walk’d drough so much o’ my grass.” His mild words, Thomas, cut em like swords, Thomas, &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;Newly a-whet, An’ went vurder wi’ them than a dreat.

a flight, awhile agoo, Along the raïls, a stage or two, An’ while the heavy wheels did spin An’ rottle, wi’ a deafnèn din, In clouds o’ steam, the zweepèn traïn Did shoot along the hill-bound plaïn, As sheädes o’ birds in flight, do pass Below em on the zunny grass. An’ as I zot, an’ look’d abrode On leänen land an’ windèn road, The ground a-spread along our flight Did vlee behind us out o’ zight; The while the zun, our heav’nly guide, Did ride on wi’ us, zide by zide. An’ zoo, while time, vrom stage to stage, Do car us on vrom youth to age,