Fall: Shrodon Feäir.
The vu’st Peaert.
An’ zoo’s the day wer warm an’ bright,
An’ nar a cloud wer up in zight,
We wheedled father vor the meaere
An’ cart, to goo to Shrodon feaeir.
An’ Poll an’ Nan run off up stairs,
To shift their things, as wild as heaeres;
An’ pull’d out, each o’m vrom her box,
Their snow-white leaece an’ newest frocks,
An’ put their bonnets on, a-lined
Wi’ blue, an’ sashes tied behind;
An’ turn’d avore the glass their feaece
An’ back, to zee their things in pleaece;
While Dick an’ I did brush our hats
An’ cwoats, an’ cleaen ourzelves lik’ cats.
At woone or two o’clock, we vound
Ourzelves at Shrodon seaefe an’ sound,
A-strutten in among the rows
O’ tilted stannens an’ o’ shows,
An’ girt long booths wi’ little bars
Chock-vull o’ barrels, mugs, an’ jars,
An’ meat a-cooken out avore
The vier at the upper door;
Where zellers bwold to buyers shy
Did hollow round us, “What d’ye buy?”
An’ scores o’ merry tongues did speak
At woonce, an’ childern’s pipes did squeak,
An’ horns did blow, an’ drums did rumble,
An’ bawlen merrymen did tumble;
An’ woone did all but want an edge
To peaert the crowd wi’, lik’ a wedge.
We zaw the dancers in a show
Dance up an’ down, an’ to an’ fro,
Upon a rwope, wi’ chalky zoles,
So light as magpies up on poles;
An’ tumblers, wi’ their streaks an’ spots,
That all but tied theirzelves in knots.
An’ then a conjurer burn’d off
Poll’s han’kerchief so black’s a snoff,
An’ het en, wi’ a single blow,
Right back ageaen so white as snow.
An’ after that, he fried a fat
Girt ceaeke inzide o’ my new hat;
An’ yet, vor all he did en brown,
He didden even zweal the crown.
Other works by William Barnes...
