Page:Barnes (1879) Poems of rural life in the Dorset dialect (combined).djvu/453

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been validated.
DON’T CEÄRE.
437

A DO’SET SALE

WITH A MISTAKE.

(Thomas and Mr Auctioneer.)

T.  Well here, then, Mister auctioneer,
  Be theäse the virs, I bought, out here?

A.  The firs, the fir-poles, you bought? Who?
  ’Twas furze, not firs, I sold to you.

T.  I bid vor virs, and not vor vuzzen,
  Vor vir-poles, as I thought, two dozen.

A.  Two dozen faggots, and I took
  Your bidding for them. Here’s the book.

T.  I wont have what I diddèn buy.
  I don’t want vuzzen, now. Not I.
  Why firs an’ furze do sound the seäme.
  Why don’t ye gi’e a thing his neäme?
  Ays, firs and furze! Why, who can tell
  Which ’tis that you do meän to zell?
  No, no, be kind enough to call
  Em virs, and vuzzen, then, that’s all.


DON’T CEÄRE.

At the feäst, I do mind very well, all the vo’ks

 Wer a-took in a happerèn storm.
But we chaps took the maïdens, an’ kept em wi’ clokes
 Under shelter, all dry an’ all warm;
An’ to my lot vell Jeäne, that’s my bride,
That did titter, a-hung at my zide;
Zaid her aunt, “Why the vo’k ’ull talk finely o’ you,”
An’, cried she, “I don’t ceäre if they do.”