Poems Of Rural Life In The Dorset Dialect Part 21

JOHN.

O ees, there'll be some mwore: vor after that, I got a job o' trenchen to goo at; An' then zome trees to shroud, an' wood to vell,-- Zoo I do hope to rub on pretty well Till zummer time; an' then I be to cut The wood an' do the trenchen by the tut.

CHILD.

An' nex' week, father, I'm a-gwan to goo A-picken stwones, d'ye know, vor Farmer True.

WIFE.

An' little Jack, you know, 's a-gwan to earn A penny too, a-keepen birds off corn.

JOHN.

O brave! What wages do 'e mean to gi'e?

WIFE.

She dreppence vor a day, an' twopence he.

JOHN.

Well, Polly; thou must work a little spracker When thou bist out, or else thou wu'ten pick A dungpot lwoad o' stwones up very quick.

CHILD.

Oh! yes I shall. But Jack do want a clacker: An' father, wull ye teake an' cut A stick or two to meake his hut.

JOHN.

You wench! why you be always up a-baggen.

I be too tired now to-night, I'm sure, To zet a-doen any mwore: Zoo I shall goo up out o' the way o' the waggon.

[Gothic: Eclogue.]

A GHOST.

_Jem an' d.i.c.k._

JEM.

This is a darkish evenen; b'ye a-feard O' zights? Thease leane's a-haunted, I've a heard.

d.i.c.k.

No, I be'nt much a-fear'd. If vo'k don't strive To over-reach me while they be alive, I don't much think the dead wull ha' the will To come back here to do me any ill.

An' I've a-been about all night, d'ye know, Vrom candle-lighten till the c.o.c.k did crow; But never met wi' nothen bad enough To be much wo'se than what I be myzuf; Though I, lik' others, have a-heard vo'k zay The girt house is a-haunted, night an' day.

JEM.

Aye; I do mind woone winter 'twer a-zaid The farmer's vo'k could hardly sleep a-bed, They heard at night such scuffens an' such jumpens, Such ugly nases an' such rottlen thumpens.

d.i.c.k.

Aye, I do mind I heard his son, young Sammy, Tell how the chairs did dance an' doors did slammy; He stood to it--though zome vo'k woulden heed en-- He didden only hear the ghost, but zeed en; An', hang me! if I han't a'most a-shook, To hear en tell what ugly sheapes it took.

Did zometimes come vull six veet high, or higher, In white, he zaid, wi' eyes lik' coals o' vier; An' zometimes, wi' a feace so peale as milk, A smileless leady, all a-deck'd in silk.

His heair, he zaid, did use to stand upright, So stiff's a bunch o' rushes, wi' his fright.

JEM.

An' then you know that zome'hat is a-zeed Down there in leane, an' over in the mead, A-comen zometimes lik' a slinken hound, Or rollen lik' a vleece along the ground.

An' woonce, when gramfer wi' his wold grey meare Wer riden down the leane vrom Shroton feair, It roll'd so big's a pack ov wool across The road just under en, an' leam'd his hoss.

d.i.c.k.

Aye; did ye ever hear--vo'k zaid 'twer true-- O' what bevell Jack Hine zome years agoo?

Woone vrosty night, d'ye know, at Chris'mas tide, Jack, an' another chap or two bezide, 'D a-been out, zomewhere up at tother end O' parish, to a naghbour's house to spend A merry hour, an' mid a-took a cup Or two o' eale a-keepen Chris'mas up; Zoo I do lot 'twer leate avore the pearty 'D a-burnt their bron out; I do lot, avore They thought o' turnen out o' door 'Twer mornen, vor their friendship then wer hearty.

Well; clwose agean the vootpath that do lead Vrom higher parish over withy-mead, There's still a hollow, you do know: they tried there, In former times, to meake a cattle-pit, But gie'd it up, because they coulden get The water any time to bide there.

Zoo when the merry fellows got Just overright thease lwonesome spot, Jack zeed a girt big house-dog wi' a collar, A-stannen down in thik there hollor.

Lo'k there, he zad, there's zome girt dog a-prowlen: I'll just goo down an' gi'e'n a goodish lick Or two wi' thease here groun'-ash stick, An' zend the s.h.a.ggy rascal hwome a-howlen.

Zoo there he run, an' gi'ed en a good whack Wi' his girt ashen stick a-thirt his back; An', all at woonce, his stick split right all down In vower pieces; an' the pieces vled Out ov his hand all up above his head, An' pitch'd in vower corners o' the groun'.

An' then he velt his han' get all so num', He coulden veel a vinger or a thum'; An' after that his earm begun to zwell, An' in the night a-bed he vound The skin o't peelen off all round.

'Twer near a month avore he got it well.

JEM.

That wer vor hetten [=o]'n. He should a let en Alwone d'ye zee: 'twer wicked vor to het en.

SUNDRY PIECES.

A ZONG.

O Jenny, don't sobby! vor I shall be true; Noo might under heaven shall peart me vrom you.

My heart will be cwold, Jenny, when I do slight The zwell o' thy bosom, thy eyes' sparklen light.

My kinsvo'k would fan zee me teake vor my meate A mad that ha' wealth, but a mad I should heate; But I'd sooner leabour wi' thee vor my bride, Than live lik' a squier wi' any bezide.