Now I be man ov Dartymoor,
Grim Dartymoor, grey Dartymoor;
I come vrom wur there hain't no war,
An' Tavy be a-voaming;
I'd pigs an' sheep _an'_ lass--Aw my!
The beyootifullest maid 'er be!
An' one vine day 'er comes to I,
An' zays--"My Jan," 'er zays,--"lukee!
To France yu must be roaming!
Vur Devon needs her sons again;
Her du be rousing moor an' fen;
An' yu must fight wi' Devon men
Vur Dartymoor, your Dartymoor!"
I zays, zays I, "Leave Dartymoor?
Grim Dartymoor, grey Dartymoor?
Dear life," I zays, "_whatever vor,_
While Tavy be a-voaming?
While pigs be pigs, an' 'earts be true;
An' market prices purty vair;
Why should 'un go an' _parley-voo_?"
'Er zays, "'Cuz yu be waanted there!
Thet's why yu must be roaming!
Vur Devon needs her sons again;
Her du be rousing moor an' fen;
An' yu must fight wi' Devon men
Vur Dartymoor; my Dartymoor!
"Ef yu woan't fight vur Dartymoor,
Grim Dartymoor, grey Dartymoor,
Things shall be as they wur avore
Us courted in the gloaming!"
'Er zays an' left me arl alone,
A-thinking over what 'er zaid,
Till arl was plain as Dewar Stone--
I zays to Dad, "Mind pigs is fed,
While I be gone a-roaming!
Vur Devon needs her sons again;
Her du be rousing moor an' fen;
An' I must fight wi' Devon men
Vur Dartymoor, our Dartymoor!"
DUDLEY CLARK.
May 5, 1915.