FANNY FEAR.

THE melancholy incident related in the following story, actually occurred a few years ago at Shapwick.

FANNY FEAR.

GOOD Gennel-vawk! an if you please

To lissen to my storry,

A mâ-be 'tis a jitch a one,

Ool make ye zummet zorry.

'Tis not a hoozay tale of grief,

A put wi' ort together,

That where you cry, or where you laugh, Da matter not a veather ;

Bit 'tis a tale vor sartin true,
Wi' readship be it spawken;
I knaw it âll, begummers! well,
By tale, eese, an by tawken.

F

Tha maid's right name war FANny Fear,

A tidy body lookin;

An she cood brew, and she cood bake,

An dumplins bwile, and skimmer cake ; An all the like o' cookin.

Upon a Zunday âternoon,

Beforne the door a stanin,

To zee er chubby cheaks za hird,
An whitist lillies roun 'em spird,
A damas rawze her han in,

Ood do your hort good; and er eyes,
Dork, vull, an bright, an sporklin;
Tha country lads could not goo by,
Bit look thâ must-she iver shy,
Ood blish-tha timid lorklin!

Her dame war to her desperd kind;
She knaw'd er well dezarvin:
She gid her good advice an claws,
At which she niver toss'd er naws,
As zum ool, thawf pon starvin.

She oten yarly upp'd to goo

A milkin o' tha dairy;

Tha meads ring'd loudly wi' er zong; Aw how she birsh'd the grass along, As lissom as a vairy!

She war as happy as a prince;
Naw princess moor o' pleasure
When well-at-eased cood iver veel;
She ly'd her head upon her peel,

An vound athin a treasure.

There war a dessent comly youth,
Who took'd to her a likin;

An when a don'd iz zunday claws,

You'd thenk en zummet, I

suppaws,

A look'd zo desperd strikin.

Hiz vace war like a zummer dâ, When all tha birds be zingin; Smiles an good nature dimplin stood, An moor besides, an âll za good, Much pleasant promise bringin.