Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/290

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To zee his straïnèns an’ his strides,
We laugh’d enough to split our zides.
At Harwood Farm we pass’d the land
That father’s father had in hand,
An’ there, in oben light did spread,
The very groun’s his cows did tread,
An’ there above the stwonèn tun
Avore the dazzlèn mornèn zun,
Wer still the rollèn smoke, the breath
A-breath’d vrom his wold house’s he’th;
An’ there did lie below the door,
The drashol’ that his vootsteps wore;
But there his meäte an’ he bwoth died,
Wi’ hand in hand, an’ zide by zide;
Between the seäme two peals a-rung,
Two Zundays, though they wer but young,
An’ laid in sleep, their worksome hands,
At rest vrom tweil wi’ house or lands.
Then vower childern laid their heads
At night upon their little beds,
An’ never rose ageän below
A mother’s love, or father’s ho:
Dree little maïdens, small in feäce,
An’ woone small bwoy, the fourth in pleäce.
Zoo when their heedvul father died,
He call’d his brother to his zide,
To meäke en stand, in hiz own stead,
His childern’s guide, when he wer dead;
But still avore zix years brought round
The woodland goo-coo’s zummer sound,
He weästed all their little store,
An’ hardship drove em out o’ door,
To tweil till tweilsome life should end,
’Ithout a single e’thly friend.
But soon wi’ Harwood back behind,

An’ out o’ zight an’ out o’ mind,