Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/470

454 “Your cup,” his daughter cried; “Vill’d up,” his wife replied; “Aye, aye; a drap avore my nap,” Cried worthy Bloom the miller.

When Lon’on vokvo’k [sic] did meäke a show &emsp;O’ their girt glassen house woone year, An’ people went, bwoth high an’ low, &emsp;To zee the zight, vrom vur an’ near, “O well,” cried Bloom, “why I’ve a right So well’s the rest to zee the zight; I’ll goo, an’ teäke the raïl outright.” “Your feäre,” the booker cried; “There, there,” good Bloom replied; “Why this June het do meäke woone zweat,” Cried worthy Bloom the miller,

Then up the guard did whissle sh’ill, &emsp;An’ then the engine pank’d a-blast, An’ rottled on so loud’s a mill, &emsp;Avore the traïn, vrom slow to vast. An’ oh! at last how they did spank By cuttèn deep, an’ high-cast bank The while their iron ho’se did pank. “Do whizzy,” woone o’m cried; “I’m dizzy,” woone replied; “Aye, here’s the road to hawl a lwoad,” Cried worthy Bloom the miller.

In Lon’on John zent out to call &emsp;A tidy trap, that he mid ride To zee the glassen house, an’ all &emsp;The lot o’ things a-stow’d inside. “Here, Boots, come here,” cried he, “I’ll dab A sixpence in your han’ to nab Down street a tidy little cab.”