Òåêñò îðèãèíàëà íà àíãëèéñêîì ÿçûêå First Collection. Winter. The Settle an’ the Girt Wood Vire Ah! naïghbour John, since I an’ you Wer youngsters, ev’ry thing is new. My father’s vires wer all o’ logs O’ cleft-wood, down upon the dogs Below our clavy, high, an’ brode Enough to teäke a cart an’ lwoad, Where big an’ little all zot down At bwoth zides, an’ bevore, all roun’. An’ when I zot among em, I Could zee all up ageän the sky Drough chimney, where our vo’k did hitch The zalt-box an’ the beäcon-vlitch, An’ watch the smoke on out o’ vier, All up an’ out o’ tun, an’ higher. An’ there wer beäcon up on rack, An’ pleätes an’ dishes on the tack; An’ roun’ the walls wer heärbs a-stowed In peäpern bags, an’ blathers blowed. An’ just above the clavy-bwoard Wer father’s spurs, an’ gun, an’ sword; An’ there wer then, our girtest pride, The settle by the vier zide. Ah! gi’e me, if I wer a squier, The settle an’ the girt wood vier. But they’ve a-wall’d up now wi’ bricks The vier pleäce vor dogs an’ sticks, An’ only left a little hole To teäke a little greäte o’ coal, So small that only twos or drees Can jist push in an’ warm their knees. An’ then the carpets they do use, Bēn’t fit to tread wi’ ouer shoes; An’ chairs an’ couches be so neat, You mussen teäke em vor a seat: They be so fine, that vo’k mus’ pleäce All over em an’ outer ceäse, An’ then the cover, when ’tis on, Is still too fine to loll upon. Ah! gi’e me, if I wer a squier, The settle an’ the girt wood vier. Carpets, indeed! You coulden hurt The stwone-vloor wi’ a little dirt; Vor what wer brought in doors by men, The women soon mopp’d out ageän. Zoo we did come vrom muck an’ mire, An’ walk in straïght avore the vier; But now, a man’s a-kept at door At work a pirty while, avore He’s screäp’d an’ rubb’d, an’ cleän and fit To goo in where his wife do zit. An’ then if he should have a whiff In there, ’twould only breed a miff: He cānt smoke there, vor smoke woon’t goo ’Ithin the footy little flue. Ah! gi’e me, if I wer a squier, The settle an’ the girt wood vier. |
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