This is a little poem by Norman Goodland, God rest his soul, like me, a Hampshire Hog:
Christmas be come
Winter be 'ard.
Frost do 'ang white in leane.
Woods be all dark;
hedges leary -
Snow d'come back agean.
Rooks d'bide whoam
Plover d'cry.
Cows be all stood b'geate.
'ouse mouse d'scratch -
dusk d'come down.
Flames is all blue in greate.
Kittle d'zing -
tea ben all laid;
chillern comes in vrom play.
Vixen d'scream:
owl zets in tree.
'Whit-wheet! whit-wheet!'' he d'zay!
I have an easier time with that dialect than the last, but then I'm READING it--might be another thing altogether to the ear!
ReplyDeletebraw........
ReplyDeleteMerry Christmas.......
Alistair.
"Chillern comes in vrom play" - love it. That's one I'd like to hear read in its proper dialect, very atmospheric.
ReplyDeleteMerry Christmas from us all here. And from Itsy who looks like a big furry brown bear and is lovely to cuddle. She has us twisted around her little finger (hoof?) running about with rugs and hay, but when she fixes you with those big brown eyes, who can resist?
Hi Mags. She has a great deal of charm, that pony! I am glad you are as happy with her as I know she is with you all. Hope to see you in the New Year again.
ReplyDeleteAl & MM - he's easier than William Barnes, I'll agree. I can hear it in my mind's eye, as I remember him from the radio and meeting him at shows a couple of times.
All the happiest thoughts for the festive season and beyond, says she, sniffing soulfully with a cold . . .
Great poem, I'll have to show it to P as she's so into poetry at the moment :)
ReplyDeleteMerry Christmas to you all. x