There, 'twer but tother day thik chap, Our Robert, wer a child in lap; An' Poll's two little lags hung down Vrom thik wold chair a span vrom groun', An' now the saucy wench do stride About wi' steps o' dree VEET wide.
"Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect"
William Barnes
Vor where do love o' kith an' kin, At vu'st begin, or grow an' wride, Till souls a-lov'd so young, be wold, Though never cwold, drough time nor tide But where in me'th their gather'd VEET Do often meet-the vier-zide.
"Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect"
William Barnes