Part 3

RICHARD.

An' then the work do keep em out o' harm; Vor vo'ks that don't do nothen wull be vound Soon doen woorse than nothen, I'll be bound. But as vor me, d'ye zee, with theaese here bit O' land, why I have ev'ry thing a'mwost: Vor I can fatten vowels for the spit, Or zell a good fat goose or two to rwoast; An' have my beaens or cabbage, greens or grass, Or bit o' wheat, or, sich my happy feaete is, That I can keep a little cow, or ass, An' a vew pigs to eat the little teaeties.

JOHN.

An' when your pig's a-fatted pretty well Wi' teaeties, or wi' barley an' some bran, Why you've a-got zome vlitches vor to zell, Or hang in chimney-corner, if you can.

RICHARD.

Aye, that's the thing; an' when the pig do die, We got a lot ov offal for to fry, An' netlens for to bwoil; or put the blood in, An' meaeke a meal or two o' good black-pudden.

JOHN.

I'd keep myzelf from parish, I'd be bound, If I could get a little patch o' ground.

[Gothic: Eclogue.]

A BIT O' SLY COORTEN.

John and Fanny.

JOHN.

Now, Fanny, 'tis too bad, you teazen maid! How leaete you be a' come! Where have ye stay'd? How long you have a-meaede me wait about! I thought you werden gwain to come ageaen: I had a mind to goo back hwome ageaen. This idden when you promis'd to come out.

FANNY.

Now 'tidden any good to meaeke a row, Upon my word, I cooden come till now. Vor I've a-been kept in all day by mother, At work about woone little job an' t'other. If you do want to goo, though, don't ye stay Vor me a minute longer, I do pray.

JOHN.

I thought you mid be out wi' Jemmy Bleaeke,

FANNY.

An' why be out wi' him, vor goodness' seaeke?

JOHN.

You walk'd o' Zunday evenen wi'n, d'ye know, You went vrom church a-hitch'd up in his eaerm.

FANNY.

Well, if I did, that werden any harm. Lauk! that is zome'at to teaeke notice o'.

JOHN.

He took ye roun' the middle at the stile, An' kiss'd ye twice 'ithin the ha'f a mile.

FANNY.

Ees, at the stile, because I shoulden vall, He took me hold to help me down, that's all; An' I can't zee what very mighty harm He could ha' done a-lenden me his eaerm. An' as vor kissen o' me, if he did, I didden ax en to, nor zay he mid: An' if he kiss'd me dree times, or a dozen, What harm wer it? Why idden he my cousin? An' I can't zee, then, what there is amiss In cousin Jem's jist gi'en me a kiss.

JOHN.

Well, he shan't kiss ye, then; you shan't be kiss'd By his girt ugly chops, a lanky houn'! If I do zee'n, I'll jist wring up my vist An' knock en down. I'll squot his girt pug-nose, if I don't miss en; I'll warn I'll spweil his pretty lips vor kissen!

FANNY.

Well, John, I'm sure I little thought to vind That you had ever sich a jealous mind. What then! I s'pose that I must be a dummy, An' mussen goo about nor wag my tongue To any soul, if he's a man, an' young; Or else you'll work yourzelf up mad wi' passion, An' talk away o' gi'en vo'k a drashen, An' breaken bwones, an' beaeten heads to pummy! If you've a-got sich jealous ways about ye, I'm sure I should be better off 'ithout ye.

JOHN.

Well, if girt Jemmy have a-won your heart, We'd better break the coortship off, an' peaert.

FANNY.

He won my heart! There, John, don't talk sich stuff; Don't talk noo mwore, vor you've a-zaid enough. If I'd a-lik'd another mwore than you, I'm sure I shoulden come to meet ye zoo; Vor I've a-twold to father many a storry, An' took o' mother many a scwolden vor ye. [weeping.] But 'twull be over now, vor you shan't zee me Out wi' ye noo mwore, to pick a quarrel wi' me.

JOHN.

Well, Fanny, I woon't zay noo mwore, my dear. Let's meaeke it up. Come, wipe off thik there tear. Let's goo an' zit o' top o' theaese here stile, An' rest, an' look about a little while.

FANNY.

Now goo away, you crabbed jealous chap! You shan't kiss me,—you shan't! I'll gi' ye a slap.

JOHN.

Then you look smilen; don't you pout an' toss Your head so much, an' look so very cross.

FANNY.

Now, John! don't squeeze me roun' the middle zoo. I woon't stop here noo longer, if you do. Why, John! be quiet, wull ye? Fie upon it! Now zee how you've a-wrumpl'd up my bonnet! Mother'ill zee it after I'm at hwome, An' gi'e a guess directly how it come.

JOHN.

Then don't you zay that I be jealous, Fanny.

FANNY.

I wull: vor you be jealous, Mister Jahnny. There's zomebody a-comen down the groun' Towards the stile. Who is it? Come, get down I must run hwome, upon my word then, now; If I do stay, they'll kick up sich a row. Good night. I can't stay now.

JOHN.

Then good night, Fanny! Come out a-bit to-morrow evenen, can ye?

SUMMER.

EVENEN, AN' MAIDENS OUT AT DOOR.

Now the sheaedes o' the elems do stratch mwore an' mwore, Vrom the low-zinken zun in the west o' the sky; An' the maidens do stand out in clusters avore The doors, vor to chatty an' zee vo'k goo by.

An' their cwombs be a-zet in their bunches o' heaeir, An' their currels do hang roun' their necks lily-white, An' their cheaeks they be rwosy, their shoulders be beaere, Their looks they be merry, their limbs they be light.

An' the times have a-been—but they cant be noo mwore— When I had my jay under evenen's dim sky, When my Fanny did stan' out wi' others avore Her door, vor to chatty an' zee vo'k goo by.

An' up there, in the green, is her own honey-zuck, That her brother train'd up roun' her window; an' there Is the rwose an' the jessamy, where she did pluck A flow'r vor her bosom or bud vor her heaeir.

An' zoo smile, happy maidens! vor every feaece, As the zummers do come, an' the years do roll by, Will soon sadden, or goo vur away vrom the pleaece, Or else, lik' my Fanny, will wither an' die.

But when you be a-lost vrom the parish, zome mwore Will come on in your pleaezen to bloom an' to die; An' the zummer will always have maidens avore Their doors, vor to chatty an' zee vo'k goo by.

Vor daughters ha' mornen when mothers ha' night, An' there's beauty alive when the feaeirest is dead; As when woone sparklen weaeve do zink down vrom the light, Another do come up an' catch it instead.

Zoo smile on, happy maidens! but I shall noo mwore Zee the maid I do miss under evenen's dim sky; An' my heart is a-touch'd to zee you out avore The doors, vor to chatty an' zee vo'k goo by.

THE SHEPHERD O' THE FARM.

Oh! I be shepherd o' the farm, Wi' tinklen bells an' sheep-dog's bark, An' wi' my crook a-thirt my eaerm, Here I do rove below the lark.

An' I do bide all day among The bleaeten sheep, an' pitch their vwold; An' when the evenen sheaedes be long, Do zee em all a-penn'd an' twold.

An' I do zee the frisken lam's, Wi' swingen tails an' woolly lags, A-playen roun' their veeden dams An' pullen o' their milky bags.

An' I bezide a hawthorn tree, Do' zit upon the zunny down, While sheaedes o' zummer clouds do vlee Wi' silent flight along the groun'.

An' there, among the many cries O' sheep an' lambs, my dog do pass A zultry hour, wi' blinken eyes, An' nose a-stratch'd upon the grass;

But, in a twinklen, at my word, He's all awake, an' up, an' gone Out roun' the sheep lik' any bird, To do what he's a-zent upon.

An' I do goo to washen pool, A-sousen over head an' ears, The shaggy sheep, to cleaen their wool An' meaeke em ready vor the sheaers.

An' when the shearen time do come, Then we do work vrom dawn till dark; Where zome do shear the sheep, and zome Do mark their zides wi' meaesters mark.

An' when the shearen's all a-done, Then we do eat, an' drink, an' zing, In meaester's kitchen till the tun Wi' merry sounds do sheaeke an' ring.

Oh! I be shepherd o' the farm, Wi' tinklen bells an' sheep dog's bark, An' wi' my crook a-thirt my eaerm, Here I do rove below the lark.

VIELDS IN THE LIGHT.

Woone's heart mid leaep wi' thoughts o' jay In comen manhood light an' gay When we do teaeke the worold on Vrom our vore-elders dead an' gone; But days so feaeir in hope's bright eyes Do often come wi' zunless skies: Woone's fancy can but be out-done, Where trees do sway an' brooks do run, By risen moon or zetten zun.

Vor when at evenen I do look All down theaese hangen on the brook, Wi' weaeves a-leaepen clear an' bright, Where boughs do sway in yollow light; Noo hills nor hollows, woods nor streams, A-voun' by day or zeed in dreams, Can ever seem so fit to be Good angel's hwomes, though they do gi'e But pain an' tweil to such as we.

An' when by moonlight darksome sheaedes Do lie in grass wi' dewy bleaedes, 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' Meaery Got up betimes to mind the deaeiry; An' gi'ed the milken pails a scrub, An' dress'd, an' went to zee the club. Vor up at public-house, by ten O'clock the pleaece wer vull o' men, A-dress'd to goo to church, an' dine, An' walk about the pleaece in line. Zoo off they started, two an' two, Wi' painted poles an' knots o' blue, An' girt silk flags,—I wish my box 'D a-got em all in ceaepes an' frocks,— A-weaeven wide an' flappen loud In playsome winds above the crowd; While fifes did squeak an' drums did rumble, An' deep beaezzoons 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 air 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 pray wi' mornen tongues, An' then to zwear wi' evenen lungs: Nor vu'st sheaeke hands, to let the wrist Lift up at last a bruisen vist: Vor clubs were all a-meaen'd vor friends, He twold em, an' vor better ends Than twiten vo'k an' picken quarrels, An' tipplen cups an' empten barrels,— Vor meaeken 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 meaede sich stunnen clatters Wi' knives an' forks, an' pleaetes an' platters; An' waiters ran, an' beer did pass Vrom tap to jug, vrom jug to glass: 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 ageaen, 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 ageaen 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' gay Thy leaenes an' vields be now in May, 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 seaeme's a bulrush that's a-shook By wind a-blowen up the brook: The curlen stream would dreve en down, But playsome air do turn en roun', An' meaeke en seem to bend wi' love To zunny hollows up above.

Thy tower still do overlook The woody knaps an' winden brook, An' leaene's wi' here an' there a hatch, An' house wi' elem-sheaeded thatch, An' vields where chaps do vur outdo The Zunday sky, wi' cwoats o' blue; An' maidens' frocks do vur surpass The whitest deaesies in the grass.

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 play to entertain 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 breaece O' perch, or at the leaest some deaece, A-zwimmen down vrom gramfer's.

Then ten good deaeries 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 meaeke the water clim' A bank, an' sparkle under dim Bridge arches, villen to the brim His pon', an' leaepen, 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 rain an' zun,— An' all's undone that he'd a-done; The brook ha' now noo call to stay To vill his pon' or clim' his bay, A-runnen down to gramfer's.

When woonce, in heavy rain, the road At Grenley bridge wer overflow'd, Poor Sophy White, the pleaeces pride, A-gwain 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 pass'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 feaece do drow Upon the backward road our mind Do turn an' zee a-left behind; When we, in childhood's days did vind Our jay 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 peaele 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 God above, If we be true when he do prove Our stedvast faith an' thankvul love, Wull do vor us what mid be best, An' teaeke 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' naisy 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 leaeze O' zunny evenens jis' lik' theaese, In happy times I us'd to zee Thy comely sheaepe about the tree, Wi' pail 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 eaerm an' modest look; Or zitten in some woody nook We lissen'd to the leaves that shook Upon the poplars straight an' tall, Or rottle o' the watervall, Sweet music in the wind!

An' when the playvul air do vlee, O' moonlight nights, vrom tree to tree, Or whirl upon the sheaeken grass, Or rottle at my window glass: Do seem,—as I do hear it pass,— As if thy vaice 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, eaerm in eaerm, Did walk about their tiny farm, While birds did zing an' gnats did zwarm, Drough grass a'most above their knees, An' roun' by hedges an' by trees Wi' leafy boughs a-swayen.

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-tail drough Her pocket-hole, to keep en neat, As she mid walk, or teaeke a seat By leafy boughs a-zwayen.

An' vu'st they'd goo to zee their lots O' pot-eaerbs in the geaerden 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-swayen.

An' then vrom geaerden they did pass Drough orcha'd out to zee the grass, 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-swayen.

An' then they stump'd along vrom there A-vield, to zee the cows an' meaere; An' she, when uncle come in zight, Look'd up, an' prick'd her ears upright, An' whicker'd out wi' all her might; An' he, a-chucklen, went to zee The cows below the sheaedy tree, Wi' leafy boughs a-swayen.

An' last ov all, they went to know How vast the grass in meaed did grow An' then aunt zaid 'twer time to goo In hwome,—a-holden up her shoe, To show how wet he wer wi' dew. An' zoo they toddled hwome to rest, Lik' doves a-vleen to their nest In leafy boughs a-swayen.

HAVEN WOONES FORTUNE A-TWOLD.

In leaene the gipsies, as we went A-milken, had a-pitch'd their tent, Between the gravel-pit an' clump O' trees, upon the little hump: An' while upon the grassy groun' Their smoken vire did crack an' bleaeze, Their shaggy-cwoated hoss did greaeze Among the bushes vurder down.