Poems Of Rural Life In The Dorset Dialect Part 23

THE WOLD WAGGON.

The girt wold waggon uncle had, When I wer up a hardish lad, Did stand, a-screen'd vrom het an' wet, In zummer at the barken geate, Below the elems' spreaden boughs, A-rubb'd by all the pigs an' cows.

An' I've a-clom his head an' zides, A-riggen up or jumpen down A-plaen, or in happy rides Along the leane or drough the groun', An' many souls be in their greaves, That rod' together on his reaves; An' he, an' all the hosses too, 'V a-ben a-done vor years agoo.

Upon his head an' tal wer pinks, A-panted all in tangled links; His two long zides wer blue,--his bed Bent slightly upward at the head; His reaves rose upward in a bow Above the slow hind-wheels below.

Vour hosses wer a-kept to pull The girt wold waggon when 'twer vull; The black meare _Smiler_, strong enough To pull a house down by herzuf,

So big, as took my widest strides To straddle halfway down her zides; An' champen _Vi'let_, sprack an' light, That foam'd an' pull'd wi' all her might: An' _Whitevoot_, leazy in the treace, Wi' cunnen looks an' show-white feace; Bezides a ba woone, short-tal _Jack_, That wer a treace-hoss or a hack.

How many lwoads o' vuzz, to scald The milk, thik waggon have a-haul'd!

An' wood vrom copse, an' poles vor rals.

An' bayens wi' their bushy tals; An' loose-ear'd barley, hangen down Outzide the wheels a'most to groun', An' lwoads o' ha so sweet an' dry, A-builded straght, an' long, an' high; An' ha-meakers, a-zitten roun'

The reaves, a-riden hwome vrom groun', When Jim gi'ed Jenny's lips a-smack, An' jealous d.i.c.ky whipp'd his back, An' madens scream'd to veel the thumps A-gi'ed by trenches an' by humps.

But he, an' all his hosses too, 'V a-ben a-done vor years agoo.

THE DReVEN O' THE COMMON.[B]

In the common by our hwome There wer freely-open room, Vor our litty veet to roam By the vuzzen out in bloom.

That wi' p.r.i.c.kles kept our lags Vrom the skylark's nest ov aggs; While the peewit wheel'd around Wi' his cry up over head, Or he sped, though a-limpen, o'er the ground.

There we heard the whickr'en meare Wi' her vace a-quiv'ren high; Where the cow did loudly bleare By the donkey's vallen cry.

While a-stoopen man did zwing His bright hook at vuzz or ling Free o' fear, wi' wellglov'd hands, O' the p.r.i.c.kly vuzz he vell'd, Then sweet-smell'd as it died in f.a.ggot bands.

When the haward drove the stock In a herd to zome oone pleace, Thither vo'k begun to vlock, Each to own his beastes feace.

While the geese, bezide the stream, Zent vrom gapen bills a scream, An' the cattle then avound, Without right o' greazen there, Went to bleare bra or whicker in the pound.

[Footnote B: The Driving of the Common was by the _Hayward_ who, whenever he thought fit, would drive all the cattle into a corner and impound all heads belonging to owners without a right of commonage for them, so that they had to ransom them by a fine.]

THE COMMON A-TOOK IN.

Oh! no, Poll, no! Since they've a-took The common in, our lew wold nook Don't seem a-bit as used to look When we had runnen room; Girt banks do shut up ev'ry drong, An' stratch wi' th.o.r.n.y backs along Where we did use to run among The vuzzen an' the broom.

Ees; while the ragged colts did crop The nibbled gra.s.s, I used to hop The emmet-buts, vrom top to top, So proud o' my spry jumps: Wi' thee behind or at my zide, A-skippen on so light an' wide 'S thy little frock would let thee stride, Among the vuzzy humps.

Ah while the lark up over head Did twitter, I did search the red Thick bunch o' broom, or yollow bed O' vuzzen vor a nest; An' thou di'st hunt about, to meet Wi' strawberries so red an' sweet, Or clogs or shoes off hosses veet, Or wild thyme vor thy breast;

Or when the cows did run about A-stung, in zummer, by the stout, Or when they pla'd, or when they fought, Di'st stand a-looken on: An' where white geese, wi' long red bills, Did veed among the emmet-hills, There we did goo to vind their quills Alongzide o' the pon'.

What fun there wer among us, when The haward come, wi' all his men, To dreve the common, an' to pen Strange cattle in the pound; The cows did bleare, the men did shout An' toss their earms an' sticks about, An' vo'ks, to own their stock, come out Vrom all the housen round.

A WOLD FRIEND.

Oh! when the friends we us'd to know, 'V a-been a-lost vor years; an' when Zome happy day do come, to show Their feazen to our eyes agean, Do meake us look behind, John, Do bring wold times to mind, John, Do meake hearts veel, if they be steel, All warm, an' soft, an' kind, John.

When we do lose, still ga an' young, A vace that us'd to call woone's neame, An' after years agean his tongue Do sound upon our ears the seame, Do kindle love anew, John, Do wet woone's eyes wi' dew, John, As we do sheake, vor friendship's seake, His vist an' vind en true, John.

What tender thoughts do touch woone's soul, When we do zee a mead or hill Where we did work, or pla, or stroll, An' talk wi' vaces that be still; 'Tis touchen vor to treace, John, Wold times drough ev'ry pleace, John; But that can't touch woone's heart so much, As zome wold long-lost feace, John.

THE RWOSE THAT DECK'D HER BREAST.

Poor Jenny wer her Robert's bride Two happy years, an' then he died; An' zoo the wold vo'k meade her come, Vorseaken, to her maden hwome.

But Jenny's merry tongue wer dum'; An' round her comely neck she wore A murnen kerchif, where avore The rwose did deck her breast.

She walk'd alwone, wi' eye-b.a.l.l.s wet, To zee the flow'rs that she'd a-zet; The lilies, white's her maden frocks, The spike, to put 'ithin her box, Wi' columbines an' hollyhocks; The jilliflow'r an' nodden pink, An' rwose that touch'd her soul to think Ov woone that deck'd her breast.

Vor at her wedden, just avore Her maden hand had yet a-wore A wife's goold ring, wi' hangen head She walk'd along thik flower-bed, Where stocks did grow, a-staned wi' red, An' mearygoolds did skirt the walk, An' gather'd vrom the rwose's stalk A bud to deck her breast.

An' then her cheak, wi' youthvul blood Wer bloomen as the rwoses bud; But now, as she wi' grief do pine, 'Tis peale's the milk-white jessamine.

But Robert have a-left behine A little beaby wi' his feace, To smile, an' nessle in the pleace Where the rwose did deck her breast.

NANNY'S COW.

Ov all the cows, among the rest Wer woone that Nanny lik'd the best; An' after milken us'd to stan'

A-veeden o' her, vrom her han', Wi' gra.s.s or ha; an' she know'd Ann, An' in the evenen she did come The vu'st, a-beaten up roun' hwome Vor Ann to come an' milk her.

Her back wer hollor as a bow, Her lags wer short, her body low; Her head wer small, her horns turn'd in Avore Her feace so sharp's a pin: Her eyes wer vull, her ears wer thin, An' she wer red vrom head to tal, An' didden start nor kick the pal, When Nanny zot to milk her.

But losses zoon begun to vall On Nanny's father, that wi' all His tweil he voun', wi' breaken heart, That he mus' leave his ground, an' peart Wi' all his beast an' hoss an' cart; An', what did touch en mwost, to zell The red cow Nanny lik'd so well, An' lik'd vor her to milk her.

Zalt tears did run vrom Nanny's eyes, To hear her restless father's sighs.

But as vor me, she mid be sure I wont vorzeake her now she's poor, Vor I do love her mwore an' mwore; An' if I can but get a cow An' parrock, I'll vulvil my vow, An' she shall come an' milk her.

THE SHEP'ERD BWOY.