Upon a time, naw matter whaur,
Jitch plazen there be many a scaur
In Zummerzet's girt gorden;
(Ive hir'd 'twar handy ta tha zea,
Not vur vrom whaur tha zantots be)
There liv'd a young churchwarden.
A zim'd delighted when put in.
An zaw a thawt a ood begin
Ta do hiz office duly:
Bit zum o'm, girt vawk in ther wâ--
Tha _Porish_ o'ten câlled,--a girt bell sheep
Or two that lead the rest an quiet keep--
Put vooäth ther hons iz coose to stâ,
Which made en quite unruly.
A went, of coose, ta Visitâtion
Ta be sworn in;--an than 'twar nâtion
Hord that a man his power should doubt,--
An moor--ta try ta turn en out!
"Naw, Naw!" exclaim'd our young churchwarden,
I dwon't care vor ye âll a copper varden!"
Tha church war durty.--Wevets here
Hang'd danglin vrom tha ruf; an there
Tha plaisterin shaw'd a crazy wâll;
Tha âltar-piece war dim and dowsty too,
That Peter's maricle thâ scase cood view.
Tha Ten Commandments nawbody cood rade; [Footnote: Read]
Tha Lord's Prayer ad nuthin in't bit "Brade;" [Footnote: Bread]
Nor had tha Creed
A lain or letter parfit, grate or smâll.
'Twar time vor zum one ta renew 'em âll.
I've tawld o' wevets--zum o'm odd enow;
Thâ look'd tha colour of a dork dun cow,
An like a skin war stratched across tha corners;
Tha knitters o' tha porish tâk'd o knittin
Stocking wi' 'em!--Bit aw, how unbevittin
All tâk like this!--aw fie, tha wicked scorners!
Ta work went tha Churchwarden; wevets tummel'd
Down by tha bushel, an tha pride o' dowst war hummel'd.
Tha wâlls once moor look'd bright.
Tha Painter, fags, a war a Plummer
An Glazier too,
Put vooäth his powers,
(His workin made naw little scummer!)
In zentences, in flourishes, and flowers.
Tha chancel, church and âll look'd new,
An war well suited to avoord delight.
Tha Ten Commandments glitter'd wi' tha vornish;
Compleat now, tha Lord's Prayer, what cood tornish.
As vor tha Creed 'twar made bran new
Vrom top ta bottom; I tell ye true!
Tha âltar piece wi' Peter war now naw libel
Upon tha church,
Which booäth athin an, tower an all, athout
Look'd like a well-dressed maid in pride about;
Tha walls rejâic'd wi' texts took vrom tha Bible.
Bit vor all that, thâ left en in tha lurch; I bag your pardon.
I mean, of âll tha expense thâ ood'n pâ a varden.
Jitch zweepin, birshin, paintin, scrubbin;
Tha tuts ad niver jitch a drubbin;
Jitch white-washin and jitch brought gwâin
A power of money--Tha Painter's bill
Made of itzel a pirty pill,
Ta zwell which âll o'm tried in vain!
Ther stomicks turn'd, ther drawts were norry; [Footnote: Narrow]
Jitch gillded pills thâ cood'n corry.
An when our young churchwarden ax'd em why,
Thâ laugh'd at en, an zed, ther drawts war dry.
Tha keeper o' tha church war wrong;
(Churchwarden still the burden o' my zong)
A should at vust
A câll'd a Vestry: vor 'tis hord ta trust
To Porish generasity; an zaw
A voun it: I dwon' knaw
Whaur or who war his advisers;
Zum zed a Lâyer gid en bad advice;
A-mâ-be saw; jitch vawk ben't always nice.
Lâyers o' advice be seltimes misers
Nif there's wherewi' ta pâ;
Or, witherwise, good bwye ta Lâyers an tha Lâ.
A Vestry than at last war cried--
A Vestry's power let noäne deride--
When tha church war auver tha clork bal'd out,
_Aw eese! aw eese! aw eese!_
All wonder'd what cood be about,
An stratch'd ther necks like a vlock o' geese;
Why--_ta make a Rate
Vor tha church's late
Repairâtion_.
A grate norâtion,
A nâtion naise tha nawtice made,
About tha cost ta be defray'd
Vor tha church's _repairâtion_.
Tha Vestry met, âll naise an bother;
One ood'n wait ta hire tha tuther.
When thâ war tir'd o' jitch a gabble,
Ta bâl na moor not one war yable,
A man, a little zâtenfare,
Got up hiz verdi ta delcare.
Now Soce, zed he, why we be gwâin
Ta meet in Vestry here in vâin.
Let's come to some determination,
An not tâk âll in jitch a fashion.
Let's zee tha 'counts. A snatch'd tha book
Vrom tha Churchwarden in't ta look.
_Tha, book war chain'd clooäse to his wrist;_
A gid en slily jitch a twist!
That the young Churchwarden loud raur'd out,
"You'll break my yarm!--what be about?"
Tha man a little zâtenfare,
An âll tha Vestry wide did stare!
Bit Soce, zed he again, I niver zeed
Money brought gwâin zaw bad. What need
War ther tha âltar-piece ta titch?
What good war paintin, vornishin, an jitch?
What good war't vor'n ta mend
Tha Ten Commandments?--Why did he
Mell o' tha Lord's Prayer? Lockyzee!
Ther war naw need
To mell or make wi' thic awld Creed.
I'm zorry vor'n; eesse zorry as a friend;
Bit can't conzent our wherewi' zaw ta spend,
Thâ âll, wi one accord,
At tha little zâtenfare's word,
Agreed, that, not one varden,
By Rate,
Should be collected vor tha late Repairâtion
Of tha church by tha young Churchwarden.