[LUNNON AVORE ANY WIFE.]
[North Wilts: Clyffe Pypard.]
Thur's our Bill, 'snaw—I had a main job to get he to gwoa. He bin a walkin' wi' thuck ginger-headed wench o' Smith's—a wur terrible took up wi' she a bit back, an' her bin a 'suading he to putt up the banns. A never zed nothen to I about ut, nit I never zed nothen to he not afore laas' Vriday wick, an' then there wur a word or two, and I zes to un, 'What's thee want wi' a wife? Thee's got no more 'casion wi' a wife than a twoad has wi' a zide-pawket'—I zes—'an' ef thee'se be a-gwain to hae she thee can plase theeself, but thee shasn't never hannel narra penny piece o' mine ef thee does! An' ther's Shusan's brother-law up a Lunnon, as hev a axed the' times to gwo up, an' he'd vine the' a pleace wur the' meds't do well.—Why dwon't 'ee teak an' gwo, 'stid o' loppettin' about at whoam wi' a wench as yun't narra mossel o' good fur cheese-makin' nur nothen else 'cept 'tes to look vine in thuck new hat o' shis'n?'—Them was my words to un, an' he wur zart o' dubous wur a'd gwo ur wur a 'oodden: but I sticks it into un as Lunnon wer far afore any wife, let ut be who 'twill. An' zo a zed a 'oodden bide yer no longer, fur ef a did her'd never let un gwo. An' a started awf thur-right, an' I han't a hired from un wur a likes it or wur a dwon't.
E. H. G.
[KITCHIN' TH' INFLUENZY.]
[North Wilts.]
Our Jess wur cwoortin' Polly:
Her gwoed an' kitched th' plague.
'Zo cwoortin's wusser'n volly,'
Zes Jess, 'an' I'll renage!'
Zes Polly, 'Dang thee buttons!
Thee gwo an' blaw thee's nause!
Zo zhure as zhip be muttons,
Th' dain be in thee's claus!'
Martal aveard wur Jesse,
An' tuk an' hiked it whoam.
'Bin in my claus 'tes,' zes 'e,
'I'll make a bonvire aw'm!'
Zo off a zoon tuk aal claus,
Vrom sankers up ta zmock,
Vur weskit, cwoat an' smaal-claus,
An' putt 'em in a cock.