The Dialect of the West of England; Particularly Somersetshire Part 30

[Footnote: See a letter by Edward Band, on this subject, in the prose pieces.]

JERRRY NUTTY; OR THE MAN OF MORK.

Awa wi' all yer tales o' grief, An dismal storry writin;

A ma-be zumthin I ma zing Ool be as much delightin.

Zumtime agoo, bevaur tha moors War tin'd in, lived at Mork One JERRY NUTTY--spry a war; A upp'd avaur the lork.

Iz vather in a little cot Liv'd, auver-right tha moor, An thaw a kipt a vlock o' geese, A war a thoughted poor.

A niver teach'd tha cris-cross-lain Ta any of his bways, An Jerry, mangst the rest o'm, did Not much appruv his ways.

Vor Jerry zumtimes went ta church Ta hire tha Pason preach, An thawt what pity that ta read Izzel a cood'n teach.

Vor than, a zunday aternoon, Tha Bible, or good book Would be companion vit vor'm all Who choos'd therein ta look.

Bit Jerry than tha naise o' geese Bit little moor could hire;

An daly goose-aggs ta pick up Droo-out tha moor did tire.

A oten look'd upon tha hills An stickle mountains roun, An wished izzel upon their taps: What zights a ood be boun!

Bit what did mooast iz fancy strick War Gla.s.senberry Torr: A always zeed it when tha zun Gleam'd wi' tha mornin stor.

O' Well's grate church a oten hired, Iz fancy war awake; An zaw a thawt that zoon a ood A journey ta it make.

An Gla.s.senberry's Torr, an Thorn The hawly blowth of which A hired from one and tother too; Tha like war never jitch!

Bit moor o' this I need not za, Vor off went Jerry Nutty, In hiz right hon a wakin stick, An in hiz qut a tutty.

Now, lock-y-zee! in whimly dress Trudg'd chearful Jerry on;

Bit on tha moor not vur a went-- A made a zudden ston.

Which wa ta goo a cood not thenk, Vor there war many a wa; A put upright iz walking stick; A vall'd ta tha zon o' da.

Ta tha suthard than iz wa a took Athert tha turfy moors, An zoon o' blissom Cuzziton, [Footnote: Cossington.]

A pa.s.s'd tha cottage doors.

Tha maidens o' tha cottages, Not us'd strange vawk to zee, Com'd vooath and stood avaur tha door; Jer wonder'd what cood be.

Zum smil'd, zum whecker'd, zum o'm blish'd.

"Od dang it!" Jerry zed, "What do tha think that I be like?"

An nodded to 'm iz head.

"Which is tha wa to Gla.s.senberry?

I've hired tha hawly thorn War zet there by zum hawly hons Zoon ater Christ war born;

An I've a mine ta zee it too, An o' tha blowth ta take."

"An how can you, a seely man, Jitch seely journey make?

"What! dwont ye knaw that now about It is the midst o' June?

Tha hawly thorn at Kirsmas blaws-- You be zix months too zoon.

Goo whim again, yea gawky! goo!"

Zaw zed a damsel vair As dewy mornin late in Ma; An Jerry wide did stare.

"Lord Miss!" zed he, "I niver thawt, O' Kirsmas!--while I've shoes, To goo back now I be zet out, Is what I sholl not choose.

I'll zee the Torr an hawly thorn, An Gla.s.senberry too; An, nif you'll put me in tha wa, I'll gee grate thanks ta you."

Goo droo thic veel an up thic lane, An take tha lift hon path, Than droo Miss Crossman's backzid strait, Ool bring ye up ta Wrath.

Now mine, whaur you do turn again At varmer Veal's long yacker, Clooase whaur Jan Lide, tha cobler, lives Who makes tha best o' tacker;

You mist turn short behine tha house An goo right droo tha shord, An than you'll pa.s.s a zummer lodge, A builded by tha lord.

Tha turnpick than is jist belaw, An c.o.c.k-hill strait avaur ye."

Za Jerry doff'd his hat an bow'd, An thank'd er vor er storry.

Bit moor o' this I need not za, Vor off went Jerry Nutty; In his right hand a wakin stick, An in hiz qut a tutty.

Bit I vorgot to za that Jer A zatchel wi' en took To hauld zum bird an cheese ta ate;-- Iz drink war o' tha brook.

Za when a got upon c.o.c.k-hill Upon a linch a zawt; The zun had climmer'd up tha sky; A voun it very hot.

An, as iz stomick war za good, A made a horty meal; An werry war wi' wakin, zaw A sleepid zoon did veel.

That blessed power o' bamy sleep, Which auver ivery sense Da wi' wild whiverin whings extend A happy influence;

Now auver Jerry Nutty drow'd Er lissom mantle wide; An down a drapp'd in zweetest zleep, Iz zatchel by iz zide.

Not all tha nasty stouts could wake En vrom iz happy zleep, Nor emmets thick, nor vlies that buz, An on iz hons da creep.

Naw dreams a had; or nif a had Mooast pleasant dreams war tha: O' geese an goose-aggs, ducks and jitch; Or Mally, vur awa,

Zum gennelmen war dreavin by In a gilded cawch za ga; Tha zeed en lyin down asleep; Tha bid the cawchman sta.

Tha ball'd tha hoop'd--a niver wak'd; Naw houzen there war handy; Zed one o'm, "Nif you like, my bways, "We'll ha a little randy!"

"Jist put en zatly in tha cawch An dreav en ta Bejwater; An as we all can't g'in wi'n here, I'll come mysel zoon ater."

Twar done at once: vor norn o'm car'd A stra vor wine or weather; Than gently rawl'd the cawch along, As zat as any veather.