Читать книгу Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect - Barnes William - Страница 18

Aye, back at Leädy-Day, you know,

I come vrom Gullybrook to Stowe;

At Leädy-Day I took my pack

O' rottletraps, an' turn'd my back

Upon the weather-beäten door,

That had a-screen'd, so long avore,

The mwost that theäse zide o' the greäve,

I'd live to have, or die to seäve!

My childern, an' my vier-pleäce,

Where Molly wi' her cheerful feäce,

When I'd a-trod my wat'ry road

Vrom night-bedarken'd vields abrode,

Wi' nimble hands, at evenèn, blest

Wi' vire an' vood my hard-won rest;

The while the little woones did clim',

So sleek-skinn'd, up from lim' to lim',

Till, strugglèn hard an' clingèn tight,

They reach'd at last my feäce's height.

All tryèn which could soonest hold

My mind wi' little teäles they twold.

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An' riddèn house is such a caddle,

I shan't be over keen vor mwore ō't,

Not yet a while, you mid be sure ō't—

I'd rather keep to woone wold staddle.

Well, zoo, avore the east begun

To redden wi' the comèn zun,

We left the beds our mossy thatch

Wer never mwore to overstratch,

An' borrow'd uncle's wold hoss Dragon,

To bring the slowly lumbrèn waggon,

An' when he come, we vell a-packèn

The bedsteads, wi' their rwopes an' zackèn;

An' then put up the wold eärm-chair,

An' cwoffer vull ov e'then-ware,

An' vier-dogs, an' copper kittle,

Wi' crocks an' saucepans, big an' little;

An' fryèn-pan, vor aggs to slide

In butter round his hissèn zide,

An' gridire's even bars, to bear

The drippèn steäke above the gleäre

O' brightly-glowèn coals. An' then,

All up o' top o' them ageän

The woaken bwoard, where we did eat

Our croust o' bread or bit o' meat—

An' when the bwoard wer up, we tied

Upon the reäves, along the zide,

The woäken stools, his glossy meätes,

Bwoth when he's beäre, or when the pleätes

Do clatter loud wi' knives, below

Our merry feäces in a row.

An' put between his lags, turn'd up'ard,

The zalt-box an' the corner cupb'ard.

An' then we laid the wold clock-ceäse,

All dumb, athirt upon his feäce,

Vor we'd a-left, I needen tell ye,

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Noo works 'ithin his head or belly.

An' then we put upon the pack

The settle, flat upon his back;

An' after that, a-tied in pairs

In woone another, all the chairs,

An' bits o' lumber wo'th a ride,

An' at the very top a-tied,

The childern's little stools did lie,

Wi' lags a-turn'd towárd the sky:

Zoo there we lwoaded up our scroff,

An' tied it vast, an' started off.

An'—as the waggon cooden car all

We had to teäke—the butter-barrel

An' cheese-wring, wi' his twinèn screw,

An' all the païls an' veäts, an' blue

Wold milk leads, and a vew things mwore,

Wer all a-carr'd the day avore,

And when the mwost ov our wold stuff

Wer brought outside o' thik brown ruf,

I rambled roun' wi' narrow looks,

In fusty holes an' darksome nooks,

To gather all I still mid vind,

O' rags or sticks a-left behind.

An' there the unlatch'd doors did creak,

A-swung by winds, a-streamèn weak

Drough empty rooms, an' meäkèn sad

My heart, where me'th woonce meäde me glad.

Vor when a man do leäve the he'th

An' ruf where vu'st he drew his breath,

Or where he had his bwoyhood's fun,

An' things wer woonce a-zaid an' done

That took his mind, do touch his heart

A little bit, I'll answer vor't.

Zoo riddèn house is such a caddle,

That I would rather keep my staddle.

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