Poems Of Rural Life In The Dorset Dialect Part 6

An' when by moonlight darksome sheades Do lie in gra.s.s wi' dewy bleades, An' worold-hushen night do keep The proud an' angry vast asleep, When I can think, as I do rove, Ov only souls that I do love; Then who can dream a dream to show, Or who can think o' moons to drow, A sweeter light to rove below?

WHITSUNTIDE AN' CLUB WALKEN.

Ees, last Whit-Monday, I an' Meary Got up betimes to mind the deairy; An' gi'ed the milken pals a scrub, An' dress'd, an' went to zee the club.

Vor up at public-house, by ten O'clock the pleace wer vull o' men, A-dress'd to goo to church, an' dine, An' walk about the pleace in line.

Zoo off they started, two an' two, Wi' panted poles an' knots o' blue, An' girt silk flags,--I wish my box 'D a-got em all in ceapes an' frocks,-- A-weaven wide an' flappen loud In plasome winds above the crowd; While fifes did squeak an' drums did rumble, An' deep beazzoons did grunt an' grumble, An' all the vo'k in gath'ren crowds Kick'd up the doust in smeechy clouds, That slowly rose an' spread abrode In streamen ar above the road.

An' then at church there wer sich lots O' hats a-hangen up wi' knots, An' poles a-stood so thick as iver, The rushes stood beside a river.

An' Mr Goodman gi'ed em warnen To spend their evenen lik' their mornen; An' not to pra wi' mornen tongues, An' then to zwear wi' evenen lungs: Nor vu'st sheake hands, to let the wrist Lift up at last a bruisen vist: Vor clubs were all a-mean'd vor friends, He twold em, an' vor better ends Than twiten vo'k an' picken quarrels, An' tipplen cups an' empten barrels,-- Vor meaken woone man do another In need the kindness ov a brother.

An' after church they went to dine 'Ithin the long-wall'd room behine The public-house, where you remember, We had our dance back last December.

An' there they meade sich stunnen clatters Wi' knives an' forks, an' pleates an' platters; An' waters ran, an' beer did pa.s.s Vrom tap to jug, vrom jug to gla.s.s: An' when they took away the dishes, They drink'd good healths, an' wish'd good wishes, To all the girt vo'k o' the land, An' all good things vo'k took in hand; An' woone cried _hip, hip, hip!_ an' hollow'd, An' tothers all struck in, an' vollow'd; An' grabb'd their drink wi' eager clutches, An' swigg'd it wi' sich hearty glutches, As vo'k, stark mad wi' pweison stuff, That thought theirzelves not mad enough.

An' after that they went all out In rank agean, an' walk'd about, An' gi'ed zome parish vo'k a call; An', then went down to Narley Hall An' had zome beer, an' danc'd between The elem trees upon the green.

An' down along the road they done All sorts o' mad-cap things vor fun; An' danc'd, a-poken out their poles, An' pushen bwoys down into holes: An' Sammy Stubbs come out o' rank, An' kiss'd me up agean the bank, A saucy chap; I ha'nt vor'gied en Not yet,--in short, I han't a-zeed en.

Zoo in the dusk ov evenen, zome Went back to drink, an' zome went hwome.

WOODLEY.

Sweet Woodley! oh! how fresh an' ga Thy leanes an' vields be now in Ma, The while the broad-leav'd clotes do zwim In brooks wi' gil'cups at the brim; An' yollow cowslip-beds do grow By thorns in blooth so white as snow; An' win' do come vrom copse wi' smells O' graegles wi' their hangen bells!

Though time do dreve me on, my mind Do turn in love to thee behind, The seame's a bulrush that's a-shook By wind a-blowen up the brook: The curlen stream would dreve en down, But plasome ar do turn en roun', An' meake en seem to bend wi' love To zunny hollows up above.

Thy tower still do overlook The woody knaps an' winden brook, An' leane's wi' here an' there a hatch, An' house wi' elem-sheaded thatch, An' vields where chaps do vur outdo The Zunday sky, wi' cwoats o' blue; An' madens' frocks do vur surpa.s.s The whitest deasies in the gra.s.s.

What peals to-day from thy wold tow'r Do strike upon the zummer flow'r, As all the club, wi' dousty lags, Do walk wi' poles an' flappen flags, An' wind, to music, roun' between A zwarm o' vo'k upon the green!

Though time do dreve me on, my mind Do turn wi' love to thee behind.

THE BROOK THAT RAN BY GRAMFER'S.

When snow-white clouds wer thin an' vew Avore the zummer sky o' blue, An' I'd noo ho but how to vind Zome pla to entertan my mind; Along the water, as did wind Wi' zedgy shoal an' hollow crook, How I did ramble by the brook That ran all down vrom gramfer's.

A-holden out my line beyond The clote-leaves, wi' my withy wand, How I did watch, wi' eager look, My zwimmen cork, a-zunk or shook By minnows nibblen at my hook, A-thinken I should catch a breace O' perch, or at the least some deace, A-zwimmen down vrom gramfer's.

Then ten good dearies wer a-ved Along that water's winden bed, An' in the lewth o' hills an' wood A half a score farm-housen stood: But now,--count all o'm how you would, So many less do hold the land,-- You'd vind but vive that still do stand, A-comen down vrom gramfer's.

There, in the midst ov all his land, The squier's ten-tunn'd house did stand, Where he did meake the water clim'

A bank, an' sparkle under dim Bridge arches, villen to the brim His pon', an' leapen, white as snow, Vrom rocks a-glitt'ren in a bow, An' runnen down to gramfer's.

An' now woone wing is all you'd vind O' thik girt house a-left behind; An' only woone wold stwonen tun 'S a-stannen to the ran an' zun,-- An' all's undone that he'd a-done; The brook ha' now noo call to sta To vill his pon' or clim' his ba, A-runnen down to gramfer's.

When woonce, in heavy ran, the road At Grenley bridge wer overflow'd, Poor Sophy White, the pleaces pride, A-gwan vrom market, went to ride Her pony droo to tother zide; But vound the stream so deep an' strong, That took her off the road along The hollow down to gramfer's.

'Twer dark, an' she went on too vast To catch hold any thing she pa.s.s'd; Noo bough hung over to her hand, An' she could reach noo stwone nor land, Where woonce her little voot could stand; Noo ears wer out to hear her cries, Nor wer she woonce a-zeen by eyes, Till took up dead at gramfer's.

SLEEP DID COME WI' THE DEW.

O when our zun's a-zinken low, How soft's the light his feace do drow Upon the backward road our mind Do turn an' zee a-left behind; When we, in childhood's days did vind Our ja among the gil'cup flow'rs, All drough the zummer's zunny hours; An' sleep did come wi' the dew.

An' afterwards, when we did zweat A tweilen in the zummer het, An' when our daily work wer done Did meet to have our evenen fun: Till up above the zetten zun The sky wer blushen in the west, An' we laid down in peace to rest, An' sleep did come wi' the dew.

Ah! zome do turn--but tidden right-- The night to day, an' day to night; But we do zee the vu'st red streak O' mornen, when the day do break; Zoo we don't grow up peale an' weak, But we do work wi' health an' strength, Vrom mornen drough the whole day's length, An' sleep do come wi' the dew.

An' when, at last, our e'thly light Is jist a-drawen in to night, We mid be sure that G.o.d above, If we be true when he do prove Our stedvast fath an' thankvul love, Wull do vor us what mid be best, An' teake us into endless rest, As sleep do come wi' the dew.

SWEET MUSIC IN THE WIND.

When evenen is a-drawen in, I'll steal vrom others' nasy din; An' where the whirlen brook do roll Below the walnut-tree, I'll stroll An' think o' thee wi' all my soul, Dear Jenny; while the sound o' bells Do vlee along wi' mwoansome zwells, Sweet music in the wind!

I'll think how in the rushy leaze O' zunny evenens jis' lik' thease, In happy times I us'd to zee Thy comely sheape about the tree, Wi' pal a-held avore thy knee; An' lissen'd to thy merry zong That at a distance come along, Sweet music in the wind!

An' when wi' me you walk'd about O' Zundays, after church wer out.

Wi' hangen earm an' modest look; Or zitten in some woody nook We lissen'd to the leaves that shook Upon the poplars straght an' tall, Or rottle o' the watervall, Sweet music in the wind!

An' when the plavul ar do vlee, O' moonlight nights, vrom tree to tree, Or whirl upon the sheaken gra.s.s, Or rottle at my window gla.s.s: Do seem,--as I do hear it pa.s.s,-- As if thy vace did come to tell Me where thy happy soul do dwell, Sweet music in the wind!

UNCLE AN' AUNT.

How happy uncle us'd to be O' zummer time, when aunt an' he O' Zunday evenens, earm in earm, Did walk about their tiny farm, While birds did zing an' gnats did zwarm, Drough gra.s.s a'most above their knees, An' roun' by hedges an' by trees Wi' leafy boughs a-swaen.

His hat wer broad, his cwoat wer brown, Wi' two long flaps a-hangen down; An' vrom his knee went down a blue Knit stocken to his buckled shoe; An' aunt did pull her gown-tal drough Her pocket-hole, to keep en neat, As she mid walk, or teake a seat By leafy boughs a-zwaen.

An' vu'st they'd goo to zee their lots O' pot-earbs in the gearden plots; An' he, i'-may-be, by the hatch, Would zee aunt's vowls upon a patch O' zeeds, an' vow if he could catch Em wi' his gun, they shoudden vlee Noo mwore into their roosten tree, Wi' leafy boughs a-swaen.

An' then vrom gearden they did pa.s.s Drough orcha'd out to zee the gra.s.s, An' if the apple-blooth, so white, Mid be at all a-touch'd wi' blight; An' uncle, happy at the zight, Did guess what cider there mid be In all the orcha'd, tree wi' tree, Wi' tutties all a-swaen.