Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/325

Rh An’ peas an’ beäns; bezides a store O’ heärbs vor ev’ry païn an’ zore.

An’ over hedge the win’s a-heärd, A-ruslèn drough my barley’s beard; An’ swaÿen wheat do overspread Zix ridges in a sheet o’ red; An’ then there’s woone thing I do call The girtest handiness ov all: My ground is here at hand, avore My eyes, as I do stand at door; An’ zoo I’ve never any need To goo a mile to pull a weed.

No, sure, a miël shoulden stratch Between woone’s geärden an’ woone’s hatch. A man would like his house to stand Bezide his little bit o’ land.

Ees. When woone’s groun’ vor geärden stuff Is roun’ below the house’s ruf, Then woone can spend upon woone’s land Odd minutes that mid lie on hand, The while, wi’ night a-comèn on, The red west sky’s a-wearèn wan; Or while woone’s wife, wi’ busy hands, Avore her vier o’ burnèn brands, Do put, as best she can avword, Her bit o’ dinner on the bwoard. An’ here, when I do teäke my road, At breakfast-time, agwaïn abrode, Why, I can zee if any plot O’ groun’ do want a hand or not; An’ bid my childern, when there’s need, To draw a reäke or pull a weed,