In Praise Of Dorset

We Doset, though we mid be hwomely, Bent asheamed to own our pleace; An weve zome women not uncomely; Nor asheamed to show their feace; Weve a mead or two woth mowen, Weve a ox or two woth showen, In the village, At the tillage. Come along an you shall vind That Doset men dont sheame their kind. Friend an wife, Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, Happy, happy, be their life! Vor Doset dear, Then gie woone cheer; Dye hear? woone cheer! If you in Doset be a roamen, An ha business on a farm, Then woont ye zee your eale a foamen! Or your cider down to warm? Woont yo have brown bread a-put ye, An some vinney cheese a-cut ye? Butter?Rolls ot! Cream?why bowls ot! Woont ye have, in short, your vill, A-gied wi a right good will? Friend an wife, Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, Happy, happy, be their life! Vor Doset dear, Then gie woone cheer; Dye hear? woone cheer! An woont yo have vor evry shillen, Shillens woth at any shop. Though Doset chaps be up to zellen An can meake a tidy swop? Use em well, theyll use you better; In good turns they woont be debtor, An so comely, An so hwomely, Be the maidens, if your son Took woone om, then youd cry Well done! Friend an wife, Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, Happy, happy, be their life! Vor Doset dear, Then gie woone cheer; Dye hear? woone cheer!