Zoo come to the parrock, come out to the tree,
The maidens an' chaps be a-waiten vor thee;
There's Jim wi' his fiddle to play us some reels,--
Come out along wi' us, an' fling up thy heels.

[Gothic: Eclogue.]

THE VEAIRIES.

_Simon an' Samel._

SIMON.

There's what the vo'k do call a veaeiry ring
Out there, lo'k zee. Why, 'tis an oddish thing.

SAMEL.

Ah! zoo do seem. I wunder how do come!
What is it that do meaeke it, I do wonder?

SIMON.

Be hang'd if I can tell, I'm sure! But zome
Do zay do come by lightnen when do thunder;
An' zome do say sich rings as thik ring there is,
Do grow in dancen-tracks o' little veaeiries,
That in the nights o' zummer or o' spring
Do come by moonlight, when noo other veet
Do tread the dewy grass, but their's, an' meet
An' dance away together in a ring.

SAMEL.

An' who d'ye think do work the fiddlestick?
A little veaeiry too, or else wold Nick!

SIMON.

Why, they do zay, that at the veaeiries' ball,
There's nar a fiddle that's a-heaer'd at all;
But they do play upon a little pipe
A-meaede o' kexes or o' straws, dead ripe,
A-stuck in row (zome short an' longer zome)
Wi' slime o' snails, or bits o' plum-tree gum,
An' meaeke sich music that to hear it sound,
You'd stick so still's a pollard to the ground.

SAMEL.

What do em dance? 'Tis plain by theaese green wheels,
They don't frisk in an' out in dree-hand reels;
Vor else, instead o' theaese here girt round O,
The'd cut us out a figure aight (8), d'ye know.

SIMON.

Oh! they ha' jigs to fit their little veet.
They woulden dance, you know, at their fine ball,
The dree an' vow'r han' reels that we do sprawl
An' kick about in, when we men do meet.

SAMEL.

An' zoo have zome vo'k, in their midnight rambles,
A-catch'd the veaeiries, then, in theaesem gambols.

SIMON.

Why, yes; but they be off lik' any shot,
So soon's a man's a-comen near the spot

SAMEL.

But in the day-time where do veaeiries hide?
Where be their hwomes, then? where do veaeiries bide?

SIMON.

Oh! they do get away down under ground,
In hollow pleaezen where they can't be vound.
But still my gramfer, many years agoo,
(He liv'd at Grenley-farm, an milk'd a deaeiry),
If what the wolder vo'k do tell is true,
Woone mornen eaerly vound a veaeiry.

SAMEL.

An' did he stop, then, wi' the good wold bwoy?