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Monday, 26 January 2015

William Barnes on Emigration from Dorset to Tasmania (Van Diemen's Land); Brian Caddy & Graham Moore read 'Emigration'; "Guoin to Dieman's Land"






Listen to Barnes' poem about emigration from Dorset to Australia

Text of poem


ROBERT AND RICHARD 

ROBERT

Well Richat, zoo 'tis true what I do hear
That you be guoin to Dieman's Land to-year.

RICHARD

Ees, I shall never eat another pound
O' zalt in England here, where I wer barn;
Nor dig another spit o' English ground;
Nor cut a bit muore English grass or carn.
Ees, we must get to Lon'on now next Zunday
Abuoard the Ship that is to car us.
Vor if the weather should be rightish var us
We shall put out to Sea o' Monday,
Zoo our vew tools and clothes (for we must car all
That we can get by buyen, or by baggen),
Here t'other day I packed up in a barrel
And zent 'em on to Lon'on by the waggon.

ROBERT

And how d'ye zend your children and your women?

RICHARD

We got a lightish waggon to clap them in.

ROBERT

And how d'ye get up yourzelves, you men?

RICHARD

O we shall walk and ride oonce now and then
When we do meet wi' any drive-en lads
Wi' lightish luoads to tiake us up var cads.

ROBERT

And how d'ye veel now Richat in your mind,
To leave your bethpleace and your friends behind?

RICHARD

Why very queer, I do, I can't deny:
When I do think o' be'en piarted
Vrom al my friends var ever, I could cry
But var the shiame o' be'en so softhearted.
Here be the trees that I did use to clim in,
Here is the brook that I did use to zwim in,
Here be the ground where I've a worked and played;
Here is the hut that I wer barn and bred in;
Here is the little church where we've a prayed,
And churchyard that my kinsvolk's buones be laid in;
And I myzelf, you know, should like to lie
Among 'em too when I do come to die;
But 'tis noo use to have zich foolish wishes;
I shall be tossed, i' may be, to the vishes.

ROBERT

'Tis hard a man can't get a luoaf to veed 'en
Upon the pliace wher life wer vust a gied 'en;
'Tis hard that if he'd work, there's noo work var'n,
Or that his work woon't bring enough o' money
To keep en, though the land is vull a carn
And cattle; and do flow wi' milk and honey.

RICHARD

Why ees, 'tis rather hardish, oone can't doubt it,
But 'tis'n any use to tak about it;
There's noo work here at huome that I can come at,
And zoo I'll goo abroad and try var some'hat.

ROBERT

But you'll be zome time out upon the ocean;
You woon't get ovver very quick;
And if the Sea is rough, the vessel's motion,
I s'puose, wull miake ye rather zick

RICHARD

Eees 'twull be voorteen weeks, I s'puose, or muore,
'Forever we shall stratch our lags ashore.

ROBERT

And then, i' may be, you mid come to land
Down at the bottom, in the mud or zand;
You mident goo to Dieman's Land at all,
Var you mid get a drownded in a squall.

RICHARD

I don't mind that, var a'ter I be dead
I shan't be zoo a puzzled to get bread.
They that 'ave got the wordle's goods, noo doubt on't,
Do like it, and ben't willing to goo out on't:
There's nothin here var I but want and zorrow,
Zoo I don't mind o' leaven it to-morrow.
If 'twerden var my children and my wife,
I wou'dent gi' a zixpence var my life.

ROBERT

Ah! we must stay till GOD is plieased to tiake us;
If we do do our best he woon't forsiake us.
Good bye, and if I shou'dent zee ye agaen,
GOD bless you, Richat, drough your life.



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