Poem by William Barnes

Third Collection. A Do’set Sale

          WITH A MISTAKE.

     (Thomas and Mr Auctioneer.)

T.  Well here, then, Mister auctioneer,
  Be theäse the virs, I bought, out here?

A.  The firs, the fir-poles, you bought? Who?
  ’Twas furze, not firs, I sold to you.

T.  I bid vor virs, and not vor vuzzen,
  Vor vir-poles, as I thought, two dozen.

A.  Two dozen faggots, and I took
  Your bidding for them. Here’s the book.

T.  I wont have what I diddèn buy.
  I don’t want vuzzen, now. Not I.
  Why firs an’ furze do sound the seäme.
  Why don’t ye gi’e a thing his neäme?
  Ays, firs and furze! Why, who can tell
  Which ’tis that you do meän to zell?
  No, no, be kind enough to call
  Em virs, and vuzzen, then, that’s all.

1. Second Collection. The Linden on the Lawn
2. Second Collection. When Birds be Still
3. First Collection. Summer. Week’s End in Zummer, in the Wold Vo’k’s Time
4. Second Collection. The Lydlinch Bells
5. Third Collection. The Wheel Routs

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