Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/96

80 An’ tothers, dancèn to the soun’, Went in an’ out, an’ droo an’ roun’, An’ kick’d, an’ beät the tuèn down, &emsp;&emsp;A-laughèn, maïd an’ man.

An’ then a maïd, all up tip-tooe, Vell down; an’ woone o’m wi’ his shoe Slit down her pocket-hole in two, &emsp;&emsp;Vrom top a-most to bottom. An’ when they had a-danc’d enough, They got a-plaÿèn blindman’s buff, An’ sard the maïdens pretty rough, &emsp;&emsp;When woonce they had a-got em.

An’ zome did drink, an’ laugh, an’ roar, An’ lots o’ teäles they had in store, O’ things that happen’d years avore &emsp;&emsp;To them, or vo’k they know’d. An’ zome did joke, an’ zome did zing, An’ meäke the girt wold kitchen ring; Till uncle’s cock, wi’ flappèn wing, &emsp;&emsp;Stratch’d out his neck an’ crow’d.

ground is clear. There’s nar a ear &emsp;O’ stannèn corn a-left out now, Vor win’ to blow or raïn to drow; &emsp;’Tis all up seäfe in barn or mow. &emsp;Here’s health to them that plough’d an’ zow’d; &emsp;Here’s health to them that reap’d an’ mow’d, &emsp;An’ them that had to pitch an’ lwoad, &emsp;Or tip the rick at Harvest Hwome. The happy zight,—the merry night, The men’s delight,—the Harvest Hwome.