The Frome, wi' ever-water'd brink,
Do run where shelven hills do zink
Wi' housen all a-cluster'd roun'
The parish tow'rs below the down.
An' now, vor woonce, at leaest, ov all
The pleaecen where the stream do vall,
There's woone that zome to-day mid vind,
Wi' things a-suited to their mind.
An' that's out where the Fancy Feaeir
Is on at Maiden Newton.
An' vo'k, a-smarten'd up, wull hop
Out here, as ev'ry train do stop,
Vrom up the line, a longish ride,
An' down along the river-zide.
An' zome do beaet, wi' heels an' tooes,
The leaenes an' paths, in nimble shoes,
An' bring, bezides, a biggish knot,
Ov all their childern that can trot,
A-vlocken where the Fancy Feaeir
Is here at Maiden Newton.
If you should goo, to-day, avore
A Chilfrome house or Downfrome door,
Or Frampton's park-zide row, or look
Drough quiet Wraxall's slopy nook,
Or elbow-streeted Catt'stock, down
By Castlehill's cwold-winded crown,
An' zee if vo'k be all at hwome,
You'd vind em out—they be a-come
Out hither, where the Fancy Feaeir
Is on at Maiden Newton.
Come, young men, come, an' here you'll vind
A gift to please a maiden's mind;
Come, husbands, here be gifts to please
Your wives, an' meaeke em smile vor days;
Come, so's, an' buy at Fancy Feaeir
A keepseaeke vor your friends elsewhere;
You can't but stop an' spend a cwein
Wi' leaedies that ha' goods so fine;
An' all to meake, vor childern's seaeke,
The School at Maiden Newton.