Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect/The Fancy Feäir

THE FANCY FEÄIR AT MAÏDEN NEWTON.

The Frome, wi’ ever-water’d brink,
Do run where shelvèn hills do zink
Wi’ housen all a-cluster’d roun’
The parish tow’rs below the down.
An’ now, vor woonce, at leäst, ov all
The pleäcen where the stream do vall,
There’s woone that zome to-day mid vind,
Wi’ things a-suited to their mind.
    An’ that’s out where the Fancy Feäir
    Is on at Maïden Newton.

An’ vo’k, a-smarten’d up, wull hop
Out here, as ev’ry traïn do stop,
Vrom up the line, a longish ride,
An’ down along the river-zide.
An’ zome do beät, wi’ heels an’ tooes,
The leänes an’ paths, in nimble shoes,
An’ bring, bezides, a biggish knot,
Ov all their childern that can trot,
    A-vlockèn where the Fancy Feäir
    Is here at Maïden Newton.

If you should goo, to-day, avore
A Chilfrome house or Downfrome door,
Or Frampton’s park-zide row, or look
Drough quiet Wraxall’s slopy nook,
Or elbow-streeted Catt’stock, down
By Castlehill’s cwold-winded crown,
An’ zee if vo’k be all at hwome,
You’d vind em out—they be a-come
    Out hither, where the Fancy Feäir
    Is on at Maïden Newton.

Come, young men, come, an’ here you’ll vind
A gift to please a maïden’s mind;
Come, husbands, here be gifts to please
Your wives, an’ meäke em smile vor days;
Come, so’s, an’ buy at Fancy Feäir
A keepseäke vor your friends elsewhere;
You can’t but stop an’ spend a cwein
Wi’ leädies that ha’ goods so fine;
    An’ all to meäke, vor childern’s seäke,
    The School at Maïden Newton.