THE Frome, wi’ ever-water'd brink,

Do run where shelvèn hills do zink: sloping

Wi’ housen all a-cluster'd roun’

The parish tow'rs below the down.

An’ now, vor woonce, at leäst, ov all once

The pleäcen where the stream do vall,

There's woone that zome to-day mid vind, one, may

Wi’ things a-suited to their mind.

An’ that's out where the Fancy Feäir

Is on at Maïden Newton.

An’ vo'k, a-smarten'd up, wull hop folk

Out here, as ev'ry traïn do stop,

Vrom up the line, a longish ride,

An’ down along the river-zide.

An’ zome do beät, wi’ heels an’ tooes,

The leänes an’ paths, in nimble shoes,

An’ bring, bezides, a biggish knot,

Ov all their childern that can trot,

A-vlockèn where the Fancy Feäir

Is here at Maïden 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, through

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 Feäir

Is on at Maïden Newton.

Come, young men, come, an’ here you'll vind

A gift to please a maïden's mind;

Come, husbands, here be gifts to please

Your wives, an’ meäke em smile vor days;

Come, so's, an’ buy at Fancy Feäir

A keepseäke vor your friends elsewhere;

You can't but stop an’ spend a cwein

Wi’ leädies that ha’ goods so fine;

An’ all to meäke, vor childern's seäke,

The School at Maïden Newton.