Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/440

424 An’ there the girt Year-clock did goo By day an’ night, vor ever true, Wi’ mighty wheels a-rollèn round ’Ithout a beat, ’ithout a sound.

, no, why you’ve noo wife at hwome Abidèn up till you do come, Zoo leäve your hat upon the pin, Vor I’m your waïter. Here’s your inn, Wi’ chair to rest, an’ bed to roost; You have but little work to do This vrosty time at hwome in mill, Your vrozen wheel’s a-stannèn still, The sleepèn ice woont grind vor you. No, no, you woont goo hwome to-night, Good Robin White, o’ Craglin mill.

As I come by, to-day, where stood Wi’ neäked trees, the purple wood, The scarlet hunter’s ho’ses veet Tore up the sheäkèn ground, wind-fleet, Wi’ reachèn heads, an’ pankèn hides; The while the flat-wing’d rooks in vlock, Did zwim a-sheenèn at their height; But your good river, since last night, War all a-vroze so still’s a rock. No, no, you woont goo hwome to-night, Good Robin White, o’ Craglin mill.

Zee how the hufflèn win’ do blow, A-whirlèn down the giddy snow: Zee how the sky’s a-weärèn dim, Behind the elem’s neäked lim’,