Winter: Eclogue—Father Come Hwome
John, Wife, an’ Child.
CHILD.
O mother, mother! be the teaeties done?
Here’s father now a-comen down the track,
Hes got his nitch o’ wood upon his back,
An’ such a speaeker in en! I’ll be bound,
He’s long enough to reach vrom ground
Up to the top ov ouer tun;
’Tis jist the very thing vor Jack an’ I
To goo a-colepecksen wi’ by an’ by.
WIFE.
The teaeties must be ready pretty nigh;
Do teaeke woone up upon the fork’ an’ try.
The ceaeke upon the vier, too, 's a-burnen,
I be afeaerd: do run an’ zee, an’ turn en.
JOHN.
Well, mother! here I be woonce mwore, at hwome.
WIFE.
Ah! I be very glad you be a-come.
You be a-tired an’ cwold enough, I s’pose;
Zit down an’ rest your bwones, an’ warm your nose.
JOHN.
Why I be nippy: what is there to eat?
WIFE.
Your supper’s nearly ready. I’ve a got
Some teaeties here a-doen in the pot;
I wish wi’ all my heart I had some meat.
I got a little ceaeke too, here, a-beaeken o’n
Upon the vier. ’Tis done by this time though.
He’s nice an’ moist; vor when I wer a-meaeken o’n
I stuck some bits ov apple in the dough.
CHILD.
Well, father; what d’ye think? The pig got out
This mornen; an’ avore we zeed or heaerd en,
He run about, an’ got out into geaerden,
An’ routed up the groun’ zoo wi’ his snout!
JOHN.
Now only think o’ that! You must contrive
To keep en in, or else he’ll never thrive.
CHILD.
An’ father, what d’ye think? I voun’ to-day
The nest where thik wold hen ov our’s do lay:
‘Twer out in orcha’d hedge, an’ had vive aggs.
WIFE.
Lo’k there: how wet you got your veet an’ lags!
How did ye get in such a pickle, Jahn?
JOHN.
I broke my hoss, an’ been a-fwo’ced to stan’
All’s day in mud an’ water vor to dig,
An’ meaede myzelf so wetshod as a pig.
CHILD.
Father, teaeke off your shoes, then come, and I
Will bring your wold woones vor ye, nice an’ dry.
WIFE.
An’ have ye got much hedgen mwore to do?
JOHN.
Enough to last vor dree weeks mwore or zoo.
WIFE.
An’ when y’ave done the job you be about,
D’ye think you’ll have another vound ye out?
JOHN.
O ees, there’ll be some mwore: vor after that,
I got a job o’ trenchen to goo at;
An’ then zome trees to shroud, an’ wood to vell,—
Zoo I do hope to rub on pretty well
Till zummer time; an’ then I be to cut
The wood an’ do the trenchen by the tut.
CHILD.
An’ nex’ week, father, I’m a-gwain to goo
A-picken stwones, d’ye know, vor Farmer True.
WIFE.
An’ little Jack, you know, 's a-gwain to eaern
A penny too, a-keepen birds off corn.
JOHN.
O brave! What wages do 'e meaen to gi’e?
WIFE.
She dreppence vor a day, an’ twopence he.
JOHN.
Well, Polly; thou must work a little spracker
When thou bist out, or else thou wu’ten pick
A dungpot lwoad o’ stwones up very quick.
CHILD.
Oh! yes I shall. But Jack do want a clacker:
An’ father, wull ye teaeke an’ cut
A stick or two to meaeke his hut.
JOHN.
You wench! why you be always up a-baggen.
I be too tired now to-night, I’m sure,
To zet a-doen any mwore:
Zoo I shall goo up out o’ the way o’ the waggon.
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