Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/97

Rh An’ mid noo harm o’ vire or storm &emsp;Beval the farmer or his corn; An’ ev’ry zack o’ zeed gi’e back &emsp;A hunderd-vwold so much in barn. &emsp;An’ mid his Meäker bless his store, &emsp;His wife an’ all that she’ve a-bore, &emsp;An’ keep all evil out o’ door. &emsp;Vrom Harvest Hwome to Harvest Hwome. The happy zight,—the merry night, The men’s delight,—the Harvest Hwome.

Mid nothèn ill betide the mill, &emsp;As day by day the miller’s wheel Do dreve his clacks, an’ heist his zacks, &emsp;An’ vill his bins wi’ show’rèn meal: &emsp;Mid’s water never overflow &emsp;His dousty mill, nor zink too low, &emsp;Vrom now till wheat ageän do grow, &emsp;An’ we’ve another Harvest Hwome. The happy zight,—the merry night, The men’s delight,—the Harvest Hwome.

Drough cisterns wet an’ malt-kil’s het, &emsp;Mid barley paÿ the malter’s païns; An’ mid noo hurt bevall the wort, &emsp;A-bweilèn vrom the brewer’s graïns. &emsp;Mid all his beer keep out o’ harm &emsp;Vrom bu’sted hoop or thunder storm, &emsp;That we mid have a mug to warm &emsp;Our merry hearts nex’ Harvest Hwome. The happy zight,—the merry night, The men’s delight,—the Harvest Hwome.

Mid luck an’ jaÿ the beäker pay, &emsp;As he do hear his vier roar, Or nimbly catch his hot white batch, &emsp;A-reekèn vrom the oven door.