Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/334

318 1. Why, I gi’ed en his run, an’ he shook his wold meäne, &emsp;An’ he rambled a-veedèn in Westergap Leäne; &emsp;An’ there he must needs goo a-riggèn, an’ crope &emsp;Vor a vew bleädes o’ grass up the wo’st o’ the slope; &emsp;Though I should ha’ thought his wold head would ha’ know’d &emsp;That vor stiff lags, lik’ his, the best pleäce wer the road.

2. An’ you hadden a-kept en so short, he must clim’, &emsp;Lik’ a gwoat, vor a bleäde, at the risk ov a lim’.

1. Noo, but there, I’m a-twold, he did clim’ an’ did slide, &emsp;An’ did screäpe, an’ did slip, on the shelvèn bank-zide, &emsp;An’ at langth lost his vootèn, an’ roll’d vrom the top, &emsp;Down, thump, kick, an’ higgledly, piggledly, flop.

2. Dear me, that is bad! I do veel vor your loss, &emsp;Vor a vew years agoo, Thomas, I lost my ho’se.

1. How wer’t? If I heärd it, I now ha’ vorgot; &emsp;Wer the poor thing bewitch’d or a-pweison’d, or what?

2. He wer out, an’ a-meäkèn his way to the brink &emsp;O’ the stream at the end o’ Church Leäne, vor to drink; &emsp;An’ he met wi’ zome yew-twigs the men had a-cast &emsp;Vrom the yew-tree, in churchyard, the road that he past. &emsp;He wer pweison’d. (1.) O dear, ’tis a hard loss to bear, &emsp;Vor a tranter’s whole bread is a-lost wi’ his meäre; &emsp;But ov all churches’ yew-trees, I never zet eyes &emsp;On a tree that would come up to thik woone vor size.

2. Noo, ’tis long years agone, but do linger as clear &emsp;In my mind though as if I’d a-heärd it to year. &emsp;When King George wer in Do’set, an’ show’d us his feäce &emsp;By our very own doors, at our very own pleäce, &emsp;That he look’d at thik yew-tree, an’ nodded his head, &emsp;An’ he zaid,—an’ I’ll tell ye the words that he zaid:— &emsp;“I’ll be bound, if you’ll sarch my dominions all drough, &emsp;That you woon’t vind the fellow to thik there wold yew.”