Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/296

280 An’ smilèn feäir avore my zight, She blush’d bezide the yollow light O’ bleäzèn brands, while winds o’ night &emsp;Do sheäke the Winter’s Willow.

An’ if there’s readship in her smile, &emsp;She don’t begrudge to speäre, O, To zomebody, a little while, &emsp;The empty woaken chair, O; An’ if I’ve luck upon my zide, Why, I do think she’ll be my bride Avore the leaves ha’ twice a-died &emsp;Upon the Winter’s Willow.

Above the coach-wheels’ rollèn rims &emsp;She never rose to ride, O, Though she do zet her comely lim’s &emsp;Above the mare’s white zide, O; But don’t become too proud to stoop An’ scrub her milkèn païl’s white hoop, Or zit a-milkèn where do droop, &emsp;The wet-stemm’d Winter’s Willow.

An’ I’ve a cow or two in leäze, &emsp;Along the river-zide, O, An’ païls to zet avore her knees, &emsp;At dawn an’ evenèn-tide, O; An’ there she still mid zit, an’ look Athirt upon the woody nook Where vu’st I zeed her by the brook &emsp;Bezide the Winter’s Willow.

Zoo, who would heed the treeless down, &emsp;A-beät by all the storms, O, Or who would heed the busy town, &emsp;Where vo’k do goo in zwarms, O;