Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/359

Rh My life, right on drough men an’ wives, &emsp;As long, good now, as time do run. &emsp;&emsp;No; I could boast if others can, &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&ensp;I’m vull a man.

betide the dear wold mill, &emsp;My naïghbour plaÿmeätes’ happy hwome, Wi’ rollèn wheel, an’ leäpèn foam, &emsp;Below the overhangèn hill, &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;Where, wide an’ slow, &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;The stream did flow, An’ flags did grow, an’ lightly vlee Below the grey-leav’d withy tree, While clack, clack, clack, vrom hour to hour, Wi’ whirlèn stwone, an’ streamèn flour, Did goo the mill by cloty Stour.

An’ there in geämes by evenèn skies, &emsp;When Meäry zot her down to rest, The broach upon her pankèn breast, &emsp;Did quickly vall an’ lightly rise, &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;While swans did zwim &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;In steätely trim. An’ swifts did skim the water, bright Wi’ whirlèn froth, in western light; An’ clack, clack, clack, that happy hour, Wi’ whirlèn stwone, an’ streamèn flour, Did goo the mill by cloty Stour.

Now mortery jeints, in streaks o’ white, &emsp;Along the geärdfen wall do show In Maÿ, an’ cherry boughs do blow, &emsp;Wi’ bloomèn tutties, snowy white,