When people think of their heritage they tend to refer to buildings, archaeology, personal experiences, why is it then that dialect in the West country is overlooked?
As Brits we associate dialect with many places such as Liverpool, Manchester, Hull and Birmingham, this may be partly due to the movement of people during the industrial revolution of the 19th century and the demise of traditional…
This is a find example of the current use of the Dorset dialect and with some great stories
Spooase yev accomplished yer pwint—spooase yev vound out what the ways meent, Beginning wi dearly beloved, and endin in coorse with amazement. Ef yer bad temper and whims yo vind yev got moor than yer match in g Ef still o billin and cooin, yo gets moor o claain and scratchin ; Ef yo expected perfection, and vind yev got nothin uncommen ; ‘ Ef what you thought wer a angel turns out vor to be buta…
On vrosty nights near Christmas,
We all went out t’ zing,
“While Shepherds watched” – “The Vust Noel,”
“Y’ere we’m cum wassailing”.
We huddled een the doorways,
Tinglin’ wi’ the cowld,
But meakin’ zure we zung they carols,
Jist like days of wold!
Oone pleace we always went to,
Were down t’ Tanyard Varm,
Two Carols zung outside the door,
An’oone eenzide in’t waarm.
The sweet wold lady standing’…
” Then Summer came, a matron fair. Showering June’s roses on the air. With field-flowers waving everywhere, In meadows bright ; With blissful sounds, with visions rare, A large delighu”— Richard Howitt. Here’s zummer, hot an’ dry, Wi’ scarchin’ day an zwilt’rin night, Th’ zun, lik’ vire sheenin’ bright, In a blue an’ blazin’ sky, Th’ thu’sty groun’s* da parch an’ bake, An’ cracks an’…
Here’s Spring agen ! 0 happy time, Young an’ zmiling, blith an’ gay, — Days da lingthen, Sunsheene stringthen — * Natur’s cloth’d wi’ verdur prime, An’ pleasant breezes lightly play.
Th’ bonds ev wenter rude be broke, An’ vrost an’ snow be banish’d quite ; Agen es zeen Th’ lears all green — Ver ice-bound vegetation’s woke By th’ zun’s revivin’ yeat and light.
Wi’ daisies fiel’s be dotted o’er,…
A really interesting talk about the decline of the Dorset dialect
The Blandford Fly
She was bitten by the Blandford Fly, I don’t know why, they didn’t bite I,
On her legs and in her hair,
Even places where I wouldn’t dare,
Get the ointment she did cry,
My hopes did run high,
Where she was bitten by the Blandford fly,
I don’t know why, they didn’t bite I,
But thank the Lord for the Blandford Fly.
Courtesy of Mr David England
Another great Darzet word