Then, if my bit o’ brook that do wind so vur round,
Wer but his, why, he’d straïghten his bed,
An’ the wold stunpole woak that do stan’ in my ground,
Shoudden long sheäde the grass wi’ his head.
But if I do vind jaÿ where the leaves be a-shook
On the limbs, wi’ their sheädes on the grass,
Or below, in the bow o’ the withy-bound nook,
That the rock-washèn water do pass,
Then wi’ they jaÿs a-vled an’ zome goold in their stead,
I should paÿ vor my money,
An’ only zell honey to buy zome’hat sweet.
No, be my lot good work, wi’ the lungs well in plaÿ,
An’ good rest when the body do tire,
Vor the mind a good conscience, wi’ hope or wi’ jaÿ,
Vor the body, good lewth, an’ good vire,
There’s noo good o’ goold, but to buy what ’ull meäke
Vor our happiness here among men;
An’ who would gi’e happiness up vor the seäke
O’ zome money to buy it ageän?
Vor ’twould seem to the eyes ov a man that is wise,
Lik’ money vor money,
Or zellèn woone’s honey to buy zome’hat sweet.
DOBBIN DEAD.
Thomas (1) an’ John (2) a-ta’èn o’t.
2. I do veel vor ye, Thomas, vor I be a-feär’d
You’ve a-lost your wold meäre then, by what I’ve a-heärd.
1. Ees, my meäre is a-gone, an’ the cart’s in the shed
Wi’ his wheelbonds a-rustèn, an’ I’m out o’ bread;
Vor what be my han’s vor to eärn me a croust,
Wi’ noo meäre’s vower legs vor to trample the doust.
2. Well, how did it happen? He veil vrom the brim
Ov a cliff, as the teäle is, an’ broke ev’ry lim’.
