Spring: Dock–Leaves
The dock-leaves that do spread so wide
Up yonder zunny bank’s green zide,
Do bring to mind what we did do
At play wi’ dock-leaves years agoo:
How we,—when nettles had a-stung
Our little hands, when we wer young,—
Did rub em wi’ a dock, an’ zing
“_Out nettl’, in dock. In dock, out sting._”
An’ when your feaece, in zummer’s het,
Did sheen wi’ tricklen draps o’ zweat,
How you, a-zot bezide the bank,
Didst toss your little head, an’ pank,
An’ teaeke a dock-leaf in your han’,
An’ whisk en lik’ a leaedy’s fan;
While I did hunt, 'ithin your zight,
Vor streaky cockle-shells to fight.
In all our play-geaemes we did bruise
The dock-leaves wi’ our nimble shoes;
Bwoth where we merry chaps did fling
You maidens in the orcha’d swing,
An’ by the zaw-pit’s dousty bank,
Where we did tait upon a plank.
—(D’ye mind how woonce, you cou’den zit
The bwoard, an’ vell off into pit?)
An’ when we hunted you about
The grassy barken, in an’ out
Among the ricks, your vlee-en frocks
An’ nimble veet did strik’ the docks.
An’ zoo they docks, a-spread so wide
Up yonder zunny bank’s green zide,
Do bring to mind what we did do,
Among the dock-leaves years agoo.
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