Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/68

52 An’ when the zun, so low an’ red, Do sheen above the leafy head O’ zome broad tree, a-rizèn high Avore the vi’ry western sky, ’Tis merry where all han’s do goo Athirt the groun’, by two an’ two, A-reäkèn, over humps an’ hollors, The russlèn grass up into rollers. An’ woone do row it into line, An’ woone do clwose it up behine; An’ after them the little bwoys Do stride an’ fling their eärms all woys, Wi’ busy picks, an’ proud young looks A-meäkèn up their tiny pooks. An’ zoo ’tis merry out among The vo’k in haÿ-vield all day long.

merry ov a zummer’s day, When vo’k be out a-haulèn haÿ, Where boughs, a-spread upon the ground, Do meäke the staddle big an’ round; An’ grass do stand in pook, or lie In long-back’d weäles or parsels, dry. There I do vind it stir my heart To hear the frothèn hosses snort, A-haulèn on, wi’ sleek heäir’d hides, The red-wheel’d waggon’s deep-blue zides. Aye; let me have woone cup o’ drink, An’ hear the linky harness clink, An’ then my blood do run so warm, An’ put sich strangth ’ithin my eärm, That I do long to toss a pick, A-pitchèn or a-meäkfen rick.