Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/303

Rh A-chucklèn low, wi’ merry grin. Though time ha’ roughen’d up his chin, ’Tis still the seäme true soul ’ithin, As woonce I know’d, when year by year, Thik very chap, thik John o’ Weer, Did plaÿ wi’ William Wellburn.

Come, John, come; don’t be dead-alive Here, reach us out your clust’r o’ vive. Oh! you be happy. Ees, but that Woon’t do till you can laugh an’ chat. Don’t blinky, lik’ a purrèn cat, But leäp an’ laugh, an’ let vo’k hear What’s happen’d, min, that John o’ Weer Ha’ met wi’ William Wellburn.

Vor zome, wi’ selfishness too strong Vor love, do do each other wrong; An’ zome do wrangle an’ divide In hets ov anger, bred o’ pride; But who do think that time or tide Can breed ill-will in friends so dear, As William wer to John o’ Weer, An’ John to William Wellburn?

If other vo’ks do gleen to zee How lovèn an’ how glad we be, What, then, poor souls, they had but vew Sich happy days, so long agoo, As they that I’ve a-spent wi’ you; But they’d hold woone another dear, If woone o’ them wer John o’ Weer, An’ tother William Wellburn.