Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/373

Rh He can’t hear you among the crowd. Why, no, the thunder peals do drown the sound o’ wheels. His own pipe is a-pitched too loud. What, you here too?

Yes, Sir, to you. All o’ me that’s a-left.

A body plump’s a goodish lump Where reämes ha’ such a heft.

Who lost his crown a-racèn?

Who? Zome silly chap abackèn you. Well, now, an’ how do vo’k treat Jeäne?

Why not wi’ feärèns.

What d’ye mean, When I’ve a-brought ye such a bunch O’ theäse nice ginger-nuts to crunch? An’ here, John, here! you teäke a vew.

No, keep em all vor Jeane an’ you!

Well, Jeäne, an’ when d’ye meän to come An’ call on me, then, up at hwome. You han’t a-come athirt, since I’d my voot a-hurt, A-slippèn vrom the tree I clomb.