Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/84

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I wer out in meäd last week, A-thatchèn o’ my little rick, There green young ee-grass, ankle-high, Did sheen below the cloudless sky; An’ over hedge in tother groun’, Among the bennets dry an’ brown, My dun wold meäre, wi’ neck a-freed Vrom Zummer work, did snort an’ veed; An’ in the sheäde o’ leafy boughs, My vew wold ragged-cwoated cows Did rub their zides upon the raïls, Or switch em wi’ their heäiry taïls.

An’ as the mornèn zun rose high Above my mossy roof clwose by, The blue smoke curreled up between The lofty trees o’ feädèn green: A zight that’s touchèn when do show A busy wife is down below, A-workèn hard to cheer woone’s tweil Wi’ her best feäre, an’ better smile. Mid women still in wedlock’s yoke Zend up, wi’ love, their own blue smoke, An’ husbands vind their bwoards a-spread By faïthvul hands when I be dead, An’ noo good men in ouer land Think lightly o’ the weddèn band. True happiness do bide alwone Wi’ them that ha’ their own he’th-stwone To gather wi’ their childern roun’, A-smilèn at the worold’s frown.