Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/451

Rh An’ her kind heart have a-meäde her. &emsp;As an angel at my zide; I’ve her best smiles that mid plaÿ, I’ve her me’th when she is gaÿ, When her tear-draps be a-rollèn, I can now wipe em awaÿ.

my lads, vor Do’set men! A-muster’d here in red ageän; All welcome to your ranks, a-spread Up zide to zide, to stand, or wheel, An’ welcome to your files, to head The steady march wi’ tooe to heel; Welcome to marches slow or quick! Welcome to gath’rèns thin or thick; God speed the Colonel on the hill, An’ Mrs Bingham, off o’ drill.

When you’ve a-handled well your lock, An’ flung about your rifle stock Vrom han’ to shoulder, up an’ down; When you’ve a-lwoaded an’ a-vired, Till you do come back into town, Wi’ all your loppèn limbs a-tired, An you be dry an’ burnèn hot, Why here’s your tea an’ coffee pot At Mister Greenèn’s penny till, Wi’ Mrs Bingham off o’ drill.

Last year John Hinley’s mother cried, “Why my bwoy John is quite my pride;