Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/66

50 &emsp;Vor if ’tis right, vor Christes seäke &emsp;He’ll gi’e us mwore than he do teäke,— &emsp;His goodness don’t gi’e out, John.

me, Jenny, do! an’ rise Thy hangèn head an’ teary eyes, An’ speak, vor I’ve a-took in lies, &emsp;An’ I’ve a-done thee wrong; But I wer twold,—an’ thought ’twer true,— That Sammy down at Coome an’ you Wer at the feäir, a-walkèn drough &emsp;The pleäce the whole day long.

An’ tender thoughts did melt my heart, An’ zwells o’ viry pride did dart Lik’ lightnèn drough my blood; a-peärt &emsp;Ov your love I should scorn, An’ zoo I vow’d, however sweet Your looks mid be when we did meet, I’d trample ye down under veet, &emsp;Or let ye goo forlorn.

But still thy neäme would always be The sweetest, an’ my eyes would zee Among all maïdens nwone lik’ thee &emsp;Vor ever any mwore; Zoo by the walks that we’ve a-took By flow’ry hedge an’ zedgy brook, Dear Jenny, dry your eyes, an’ look &emsp;As you’ve a-look’d avore.

Look up, an’ let the evenèn light But sparkle in thy eyes so bright, As they be open to the light