Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/332

316 Vor health do weäke vrom nightly dreams Below the mornèn’s eärly beams, An’ leäve the dead-aïr’d houses’ eaves, Vor quiv’rèn leaves, an’ bubblèn streams, A-glitt’rèn brightly to the view, Below a sky o’ cloudless blue.

, his heart’s lik’ a popple, so hard as a stwone, &emsp;Vor ’tis money, an’ money’s his ho, An’ to handle an’ reckon it up vor his own, &emsp;Is the best o’ the jaÿs he do know. Why, vor money he’d gi’e up his lags an’ be leäme, &emsp;Or would peärt wi’ his zight an’ be blind, Or would lose vo’k’s good will, vor to have a bad neäme, &emsp;Or his peace, an’ have trouble o’ mind. But wi’ ev’ry good thing that his meänness mid bring, &emsp;&emsp;He’d paÿ vor his money, An’ only zell honey to buy zome’hat sweet.

He did whisper to me, “You do know that you stood &emsp;By the Squier, wi’ the vote that you had, You could ax en to help ye to zome’hat as good, &emsp;Or to vind a good pleäce vor your lad.” “Aye, aye, but if I wer beholdèn vor bread &emsp;To another,” I zaid, “I should bind All my body an’ soul to the nod of his head, &emsp;An’ gi’e up all my freedom o’ mind.” An’ then, if my païn wer a-zet wi’ my gaïn, &emsp;&emsp;I should paÿ vor my money, An’ only zell honey to buy zome’hat sweet.