An' there, a-vell'd 'ithin the copse, Below the timber's new-leav'd tops, Wer ashèn poles, a-castèn straïght, On primrwose beds, their langthy waïght; Below the yollow light, a-shed Drough boughs upon the vi'let's head, By climèn ivy, that did reach, A sheenèn roun' the dead-leav'd beech. An' there her father zot, an' meäde His hwomely meal bezide a gleäde; While she, a-croopèn down to ground, Did pull the flowers, where she vound The droopèn vi'let out in blooth, Or yollow primrwose in the lewth, That she mid car em proudly back, An' zet em on her mother's tack; Vor she wer bless'd wi' mwore than zwome-- A father out, an' mother hwome. A father out, an' mother hwome, Be blessèns soon a-lost by zome; A-lost by me, an' zoo I pray'd They mid be speär'd the little maïd.
A. A plague! theäse cow wont stand a bit, Noo sooner do she zee me zit Ageän her, than she's in a trot, A-runnèn to zome other spot.
J. Why 'tis the dog do sceäre the cow, He worried her a-vield benow.
A. Goo in, Ah! _Liplap_, where's your taïl!
J. He's off, then up athirt the raïl. Your cow there, Anne's a-come to hand A goodish milcher. A. If she'd stand, But then she'll steäre an' start wi' fright To zee a dumbledore in flight. Last week she het the païl a flought, An' flung my meal o' milk half out.
J. Ha! Ha! But Anny, here, what lout Broke half your small païl's bottom out?
A. What lout indeed! What, do ye own The neäme? What dropp'd en on a stwone?
J. Hee! Hee! Well now he's out o' trim Wi' only half a bottom to en; Could you still vill en' to the brim An' yit not let the milk run drough en?
A. Aye, as for nonsense, Joe, your head Do hold it all so tight's a blather, But if 'tis any good, do shed It all so leäky as a lather. Could you vill païls 'ithout a bottom, Yourself that be so deeply skill'd?
J. Well, ees, I could, if I'd a-got em Inside o' bigger woones a-vill'd.
A. La! that _is_ zome'hat vor to hatch! Here answer me theäse little catch. Down under water an' o' top o't I went, an' didden touch a drop o't,
J. Not when at mowèn time I took An' pull'd ye out o' Longmeäd brook, Where you'd a-slidder'd down the edge An' zunk knee-deep bezide the zedge, A-tryèn to reäke out a clote.
A. Aye I do hear your chucklèn droat When I athirt the brudge did bring Zome water on my head vrom spring. Then under water an' o' top o't, Wer I an' didden touch a drop o't.