POEMS IN THE DORSET DIAtEdf. l 



John : Why he must be a-crack'd unknown to you, 

 Zoo don't belie the stwone, 

 He scarce went nigh the stwone ; 

 He just went by the stwone, 

 An' broke in two. 



Jen : He, crack'd avore ! no, he wer sound enough, 

 Vrom back to lip, wer sound, 

 To stand or tip wer sound, 

 To hold or dip wer sound, 

 Don't talk such stuff. 



John : How high then do the price o'n reach ? 

 I'd buy zome mwore, so good ; 

 I'd buy a score, so good ; 

 I'd buy a store, so good, 

 At twopence each. 



Jen : Indeed ! with stwonen jugs a-zwold so dear. 



(Slaps him.) 



No, there's a tap, vor lies ; 

 An' there's a slap, vor lies ; 

 An' there's a rap, vor lies, 

 About your ear. 



John : Oh ! there be pretty hands ! a little dear. 



10. THE LOST LITTLE SISTER. 



O' zummer night, as day did gleam, 



Wi' weanen light, vrom red to wan ; 

 An' we did play above the stream, 



Avore our house a-winden on, 

 Our little sister, light o' tooe, 



Did skip about in all her pride 

 O' snow-white frock an' sash o' blue ; 



A sheape that night wer slow to hide, 

 Beside the brook a-tricklen thin 

 Among the poppies, out an' in. 



