Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect/Daniel Dwithen
DANIEL DWITHEN, THE WISE CHAP.
Dan Dwithen wer the chap to show
His naïghbours mwore than they did know,
Vor he could zee, wi’ half a thought,
What zome could hardly be a-taught;
An’ he had never any doubt
Whatever ’twer, but he did know’t,
An’ had a-reach’d the bottom o’t,
Or soon could meäke it out.
Wi’ narrow feäce, an’ nose so thin
That light a’most shone drough the skin,
As he did talk, wi’ his red peäir
O’ lips, an’ his vull eyes did steäre.
What nippy looks friend Daniel wore,
An’ how he smiled as he did bring
Such reasons vor to clear a thing,
As dather’d vo’k the mwore!
When woonce there come along the road
At night, zome show-vo’k, wi’ a lwoad
Ov half the wild outlandish things
That crawl’d, or went wi’ veet, or wings;
Their elephant, to stratch his knees,
Walk’d up the road-zide turf, an’ left
His tracks a-zunk wi’ all his heft
As big’s a vinny cheese.
An’ zoo next mornèn zome vo’k vound
The girt round tracks upon the ground,
An’ view’d em all wi’ stedvast eyes,
An’ wi’ their vingers spann’d their size.
An’ took their depth below the brink:
An’ whether they mid be the tracks
O’ things wi’ witches on their backs,
Or what, they coulden think.
At last friend Dan come up, an’ brought
His wit to help their dizzy thought,
An’ lookèn on an’ off the ea’th,
He cried, a-drawèn a vull breath,
Why, I do know; what, can’t ye zee ’t?
I’ll bet a shillèn ’twer a deer
Broke out o’ park, an’ sprung on here,
Wi’ quoits upon his veet.