Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/339

Rh Then the boomèn wold clock in the tower did mark His vive hours, avore the cool evenèn wer dark, An’ ivy did glitter a-clung round the bark &emsp;O’ the tree, at the turn o’ the days. An’ womèn a-fraïd o’ the road in the night, Wer a-heästenèn on to reach hwome by the light, A-castèn long sheädes on the road, a-dried white, &emsp;Down the hill, at the turn o’ the days.

The father an’ mother did walk out to view The moss-bedded snow-drop, a-sprung in the lew, An’ hear if the birds wer a-zingèn anew, &emsp;In the boughs, at the turn o’ the days. An’ young vo’k a-laughèn wi’ smooth glossy feäce, Did hie over vields, wi’ a light-vooted peäce, To friends where the tow’r did betoken a pleäce &emsp;Among trees, at the turn o’ the days.

night the merry farmers’ sons, &emsp;Vrom biggest down to leäst, min, Gi’ed in the work of all their guns, &emsp;An’ had their sparrow feäst, min. An’ who vor woone good merry soul &emsp;Should goo to sheäre their me’th, min, But Gammon Gaÿ, a chap so droll, &emsp;He’d meäke ye laugh to death, min.

Vor heads o’ sparrows they’ve a-shot &emsp;They’ll have a prize in cwein, min, That is, if they can meäke their scot, &emsp;Or else they’ll paÿ a fine, min. An’ all the money they can teäke &emsp;’S a-gather’d up there-right, min,