MEAKEN UP A MIFF.

Vorgi'e me, Jenny, do! an' rise

Thy hangèn head an' teary eyes,

An' speak, vor I've a-took in lies,

An' I've a-done thee wrong;

But I wer twold,--an' thought 'twer true,--

That Sammy down at Coome an' you

Wer at the feäir, a-walkèn drough

The pleäce the whole day long.

An' tender thoughts did melt my heart,

An' zwells o' viry pride did dart

Lik' lightnèn drough my blood; a-peärt

Ov your love I should scorn,

An' zoo I vow'd, however sweet

Your looks mid be when we did meet,

I'd trample ye down under veet,

Or let ye goo forlorn.

But still thy neäme would always be

The sweetest, an' my eyes would zee

Among all maïdens nwone lik' thee

Vor ever any mwore;

Zoo by the walks that we've a-took

By flow'ry hedge an' zedgy brook,

Dear Jenny, dry your eyes, an' look

As you've a-look'd avore.

Look up, an' let the evenèn light

But sparkle in thy eyes so bright,

As they be open to the light

O' zunzet in the west;

An' let's stroll here vor half an hour,

Where hangèn boughs do meäke a bow'r

Above theäse bank, wi' eltrot flow'r

An' robinhoods a-drest.

Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect · 第 81 / 587 题