Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect. Barnes William

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      THE BLACKBIRD.

      Ov all the birds upon the wing

      Between the zunny show'rs o' spring—

      Vor all the lark, a-swingèn high,

      Mid zing below a cloudless sky.

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      An' sparrows, clust'rèn roun' the bough,

      Mid chatter to the men at plough—

      The blackbird, whisslèn in among

      The boughs, do zing the gaÿest zong.

      Vor we do hear the blackbird zing

      His sweetest ditties in the spring,

      When nippèn win's noo mwore do blow

      Vrom northern skies, wi' sleet or snow,

      But drēve light doust along between

      The leäne-zide hedges, thick an' green;

      An' zoo the blackbird in among

      The boughs do zing the gaÿest zong.

      'Tis blithe, wi' newly-open'd eyes,

      To zee the mornèn's ruddy skies;

      Or, out a-haulèn frith or lops

      Vrom new-plēsh'd hedge or new-vell'd copse,

      To rest at noon in primrwose beds

      Below the white-bark'd woak-trees' heads;

      But there's noo time, the whole däy long,

      Lik' evenèn wi' the blackbird's zong.

      Vor when my work is all a-done

      Avore the zettèn o' the zun,

      Then blushèn Jeäne do walk along

      The hedge to meet me in the drong,

      An' staÿ till all is dim an' dark

      Bezides the ashen tree's white bark;

      An' all bezides the blackbird's shrill

      An' runnèn evenèn-whissle's still.

      An' there in bwoyhood I did rove

      Wi' pryèn eyes along the drove

      To vind the nest the blackbird meäde

      O' grass-stalks in the high bough's sheäde:

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      Or clim' aloft, wi' clingèn knees,

      Vor crows' aggs up in swaÿèn trees,

      While frighten'd blackbirds down below

      Did chatter o' their little foe.

      An' zoo there's noo pleäce lik' the drong,

      Where I do hear the blackbird's zong.