Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/86

70 Dick rung a sheep-bell in his han’. Liz beät a cannister, an’ Nan Did bang the little fryèn-pan &emsp;Wi’ thick an’ thumpèn blows; An’ Tom went on, a-carrèn roun’ A bee-pot up upon his crown, Wi’ all his edge a-reachèn down &emsp;Avore his eyes an’ nose.

An’ woone girt bee, wi’ spitevul hum, Stung Dicky’s lip, an’ meäde it come All up amost so big’s a plum; &emsp;An’ zome, a-vleèn on, Got all roun’ Liz, an’ meäde her hop An’ scream, a-twirlèn lik’ a top, An’ spring away right backward, flop &emsp;Down into barken pon’:

An’ Nan’ gi’ed Tom a roguish twitch Upon a bank, an’ meäde en pitch Right down, head-voremost, into ditch,— &emsp;Tom coulden zee a wink. An’ when the zwarm wer seäfe an’ sound In mother’s bit o’ bee-pot ground, She meäde us up a treat all round &emsp;O’ sillibub to drink.

I wer readèn ov a stwone In Grenley church-yard all alwone, A little maïd ran up, wi’ pride To zee me there, an’ push’d a-zide A bunch o’ bennets that did hide &emsp;A verse her father, as she zaïd, &emsp;Put up above her mother’s head, &emsp;&emsp;To tell how much he loved her: