246 POEMS IX THE DORSET DIALECT. 



T. They did mark a long air-track, a-pitchen so light 

 As a rook in a vield, vrom a vew yards of flight, 

 Though zome did pitch backward, an' zome pitch a-head, 

 An' zome wi' trim tread. 



T.C. But in jumpen, young Bill 



Outstripp'd all the crew ; an' his heel smother'd low 

 The head ov a flower, that had noo other blow 

 At the feast by the hill. 



F.C. Good strokes! Merry vo'ks, then, hurrah ! 



T. Then on come the bwoats up the river's broad feace, 

 A-ploughen up vurrows of foam in their rea'ce, 

 While the men did vail back, an' their two oars did turn, 

 A-zweepen a-stern. 



F.C. Well done ! chaps, well done ! 



T. Or else, as the down-leanen rowers did bow, 

 Their oars did vlee on vor new water to plough, 

 As they floated by withy, or ivy-hung rock, 

 Or by herd, or by vlock ; 



T.C. But broad-shoulder'd Joe, 



Wi' the zweat on his brow, an' an oar in each vist, 

 Rushed in wi' the vust o' the crews on the list 

 That did row. 



F.C. Well done ! ev'ry son ! then ; hurrah ! 



T. Zoo let Will leap the brook, where noo bridge is a-pleaced, 

 An' not stay to climb over bars, in his heaste, 

 But over 'em pitch, on his spry-springen tooes, 

 In his trim highlow-shoes. 



F.C. Well done ! Will, well done ! 



