Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/69

Rh The bwoy is at the hosse’s head, An’ up upon the waggon bed The lwoaders, strong o’ eärm do stan’, At head, an’ back at taïl, a man, Wi’ skill to build the lwoad upright An’ bind the vwolded corners tight; An’ at each zide ō’m, sprack an’ strong, A pitcher wi’ his long-stem’d prong, Avore the best two women now A-call’d to reäky after plough.

When I do pitchy, ’tis my pride Vor Jenny Hine to reäke my zide, An’ zee her fling her reäke, an’ reach So vur, an’ teäke in sich a streech; An’ I don’t shatter haÿ, an’ meäke Mwore work than needs vor Jenny’s reäke. I’d sooner zee the weäles’ high rows Lik’ hedges up above my nose, Than have light work myzelf, an’ vind Poor Jeäne a-beät an’ left behind; Vor she would sooner drop down dead. Than let the pitchers get a-head.

’Tis merry at the rick to zee How picks do wag, an’ haÿ do vlee. While woone’s unlwoadèn, woone do teäke The pitches in; an’ zome do meäke The lofty rick upright an’ roun’, An’ tread en hard, an’ reäke en down, An’ tip en, when the zun do zet, To shoot a sudden vall o’ wet. An’ zoo ’tis merry any day Where vo’k be out a-carrèn haÿ.