Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/46

30 Aye, that’s the thing; an’ when the pig do die, We got a lot ov offal for to fry. An’ netlèns for to bwoil; or put the blood in, An’ meäke a meal or two o’ good black-pudden.

I’d keep myzelf from parish, I’d be bound, If I could get a little patch o’ ground.

Now, Fanny, ’tis too bad, you teazèn maïd! How leäte you be a’ come! Where have ye staÿ’d? How long you have a-meäde me waït about! I thought you werden gwaïn to come ageän: I had a mind to goo back hwome ageän. This idden when you promis’d to come out.

Now ’tidden any good to meäke a row, Upon my word, I cooden come till now. Vor I’ve a-been kept in all day by mother, At work about woone little job an’ t’other. If you do want to goo, though, don’t ye staÿ Vor me a minute longer, I do praÿ.