Whaur or who war his advisers; Zum zed a Lâyer gid en bad advice; A-mâ-be saw; jitch vawk ben't always nice. Lâyers o' advice be seltimes misers Nif there's wherewi' ta pâ; Or, witherwise, good bwye ta Lâyers an tha Lâ.
A Vestry than at last war cried-- A Vestry's power let noäne deride-- When tha church war auver tha clork bal'd out, _Aw eese! aw eese! aw eese!_ All wonder'd what cood be about, An stratch'd ther necks like a vlock o' geese; Why--_ta make a Rate Vor tha church's late Repairâtion_. A grate norâtion, A nâtion naise tha nawtice made, About tha cost ta be defray'd Vor tha church's _repairâtion_.
Tha Vestry met, âll naise an bother; One ood'n wait ta hire tha tuther. When thâ war tir'd o' jitch a gabble, Ta bâl na moor not one war yable, A man, a little zâtenfare, Got up hiz verdi ta delcare. Now Soce, zed he, why we be gwâin Ta meet in Vestry here in vâin.
Let's come to some determination, An not tâk âll in jitch a fashion. Let's zee tha 'counts. A snatch'd tha book Vrom tha Churchwarden in't ta look. _Tha, book war chain'd clooäse to his wrist;_ A gid en slily jitch a twist! That the young Churchwarden loud raur'd out, "You'll break my yarm!--what be about?"
Tha man a little zâtenfare, An âll tha Vestry wide did stare! Bit Soce, zed he again, I niver zeed Money brought gwâin zaw bad. What need War ther tha âltar-piece ta titch? What good war paintin, vornishin, an jitch? What good war't vor'n ta mend Tha Ten Commandments?--Why did he Mell o' tha Lord's Prayer? Lockyzee! Ther war naw need To mell or make wi' thic awld Creed. I'm zorry vor'n; eesse zorry as a friend; Bit can't conzent our wherewi' zaw ta spend,
Thâ âll, wi one accord, At tha little zâtenfare's word, Agreed, that, not one varden, By Rate, Should be collected vor tha late Repairâtion Of tha church by tha young Churchwarden.
Now who is ther that han't a hir'd O' one young TOM CAME? A Fisherman of Huntspill, An a well-knawn name.
A knaw'd much moor o' fishin Than many vawk bezides; An a knaw'd much moor than mooäst about Tha zea an âll tha tides.
A knaw'd well how ta make buts, An hullies too an jitch, An up an down tha river whaur Tha best place vor ta pitch.
A knaw'd âll about tha stake-hangs Tha zâlmon vor ta catch;-- Tha pitchin an tha dippin net,-- Tha Slime an tha Mud-Batch. [Footnote: Two islands well known in the River Parret, near its mouth. Several words will be found in this Poem which I have not placed in the _Glossary_, because they seem too local and technical to deserve a place there: they shall be here explained,