Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/372

356 I’ve sca’ce a thing a-left in pleäce. ’Tis all a-tore vrom pin an’ leäce. My bonnet’s like a wad, a-beät up to a dod, An’ all my heäir’s about my feäce.

Here, come an’ zit out here a bit, An’ put yourzelf to rights.

No, Jeäne; no, no! Now you don’t show The very wo’st o’ plights.

Come, come, there’s little harm adone; Your hoops be out so roun’s the zun.

An’ there’s your bonnet back in sheäpe.

An’ there’s your pin, and there’s your ceäpe.

An’ there your curls do match, an’ there ’S the vittiest maïd in all the feäir.

Now look, an’ tell us who’s a-spied Vrom Sturminster, or Manston zide.

There’s rantèn Joe! How he do stalk, An’ zwang his whip, an’ laugh, an’ talk!

An’ how his head do wag, avore his steppèn lag. Jist like a pigeon’s in a walk!

Heigh! there, then, Joey, ben’t we proud