46 OLt> DORSET SONGS. 



Then Roben put on his very best clothes, 



Which were nayther ragged nor torn, 



His best Zunday clothes, and his fine yaller hose, 



And he looked like a gen'leman born, er' did. 



A' a, er' did, that er' did, 



Er' looked like a gen'leman born, er' did. 



As Roben were walken along th' road, 



Not minden the t'other fine folk, 



He happened to kiss th' wife of a priest, 



An' she had 'en clapped into th' stocks, she did. 



A'a she did, that she did, 



She had 'en clapped into th' stocks, she did. 



The next one that Roben wer' smitten to 



Wer' th' butcher's fat darter called Greace. 



He hadn't a-zaid 24 words or more, 



When she hit 'en a slap in th' fe'ace, she did. 



A'a, she did, that she did, 



She hit 'en a slap in th' fe'ace, she did. 



! ooman ; ! ooman, thee sure must be mad 

 To beate such a gallant as I. 



Th' blood from my nose ha' spoiled by best clothes 

 And I never '11 get me a wife, I wunt. 

 Nay, I wunt, that I wunt, 



1 never '11 zeek me a wife, I wunt. 



If these be the waay I goo zeek me a wife, 



I'll never goo zeek me another, 



But single I'll bide all the days o' me life, 



And I'll goo hwome to my mother, I 'ool. 



A'a, I 'ool, that I 'ool, 



I'll goo hwome to my mother, I 'ool. 



