Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/302

286 But there’s a blessèn high above It all—a soul o’ stedvast love: Zoo let it vlee, if God do gi’e Sweet Jessie vor a gift to me.

, vull my heart’s blood now do roll, An’ gaÿ do rise my happy soul, An’ well they mid, vor here our veet Avore woone vier ageän do meet; Vor you’ve avoun’ my feäce, to greet Wi’ welcome words my startlèn ear. An’ who be you, but John o’ Weer, An’ I, but William Wellburn.

Here, light a candle up, to shed Mwore light upon a wold friend’s head, An’ show the smile, his feäce woonce mwore Ha’ brought us vrom another shore. An’ I’ll heave on a brand avore The vier back, to meäke good cheer, O’ roarèn fleämes, vor John o’ Weer To chat wi’ William Wellburn.

Aye, aye, it mid be true that zome, When they do wander out vrom hwome, Do leäve their nearest friends behind, Bwoth out o’ zight, an’ out o’ mind; But John an’ I ha’ ties to bind Our souls together, vur or near, For, who is he but John o’ Weer, An’ I, but William Wellburn.

Look, there he is, with twinklèn eyes, An’ elbows down upon his thighs,