Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/89

Rh Be hang’d if I can tell, I’m sure! But zome Do zay do come by lightnèn when do thunder; An’ zome do say sich rings as thik ring there is, Do grow in dancèn-tracks o’ little veäiries, That in the nights o’ zummer or o’ spring Do come by moonlight, when noo other veet Do tread the dewy grass, but their’s, an’ meet An’ dance away together in a ring.

An’ who d’ye think do work the fiddlestick? A little veäiry too, or else wold Nick!

Why, they do zay, that at the veäiries’ ball, There’s nar a fiddle that’s a-heär’d at all; But they do plaÿ upon a little pipe A-meäde o’ kexes or o’ straws, dead ripe, A-stuck in row (zome short an’ longer zome) Wi’ slime o’ snaïls, or bits o’ plum-tree gum, An’ meäke sich music that to hear it sound, You’d stick so still’s a pollard to the ground.

What do em dance? ’Tis plaïn by theäse green wheels, They don’t frisk in an’ out in dree-hand reels; Vor else, instead o’ theäse here girt round O, They’d cut us out a figure aïght (8), d’ye know.

Oh! they ha’ jigs to fit their little veet. They woulden dance, you know, at their fine ball, The dree an’ vow’r han’ reels that we do sprawl An’ kick about in, when we men do meet.