Gard’ner Den. - A Monologue.

a poem by Denis Barter, Canada - poetry writer, author, poet

Now Den Ee be a gardener,
who wears smock, boots an’ ‘at.
Ee werks in corded britches,
and kips a one eyed cat!

He digs an ‘oes, an rakes,
to earn his daily keep,
but zumtimes on a zunny day,
he can fall asleep!

Never do he hasten,
it ain’t the way he be!
But if you finks to chasten him?
He’ll answer angrilee!

Tiz just me way of werking,
fer I likes to take me time”.
Coz gardenin’ be my passion,
along wiv poetry in rhyme!

That be ow I zees it:
tiz awl Oi’ll zay to you!
An wot gard’nin does fer Oi,
might make Ee ‘appy too!

Wen lookin at me flowers,
bloomin bright an gay,
Oi knows it tiz an omen,
that augurs a luvely day.

But wen me flowers be flaggin
hangin ‘eads, down low,
Oi knows it be most likely,
the zun will never show!

Tho Oi’m a zimple gard’ner
az most everybody noes,
Oi trys to be a poet,
writin’ Darzet, riming prose.

Oi offen gits inspired
wen zummer flowers bloom,
an wen they’m in a fancy vase,
they’ll brighten up a room.

Me missus luvs to zee em,
and smell thair sweet perfume.
Er zays it kills the odour,
Oi brings into a room!

Me garden grows all kinds
of crops in rows and beds,
but from the smell of onions,
me tomatoes they turn red!

Me turnips and me early spuds,
be growing side by side,
but coliflower an cabbage,
be grown on t’other zide!

Oi allus lets me runner beans,
climb up on hazel stakes.
Fer wunce thay grow up high,
they’m good az windy breaks.

On earwigs, slugs and snails,
plus furry varmits too,
Oi kips a very cagey eye.
Tiz the clever thing to do.

The zame do go for Sparrers,
Blue Jays an thair likes.
Whilst Chipmunks an the squirrels:
be a bunch of theevin’ tykes!

Then thair be me nayburrs:
thay’m allus theevin too!
But az for kippin crows away,
Oi’ll leave thick job fer you!

Now when me day is over,
and darkness starts to fall,
Oi stops awhile to lissen,
fer the prowling vixen’s call.

Wiv a bark that’s penetratin,
Er zends warnings to her prey.
Tiz best you take sum shelter,
if you’d live another day!


Then I ‘eads ‘ome for supper,
an a jug of mead or Scrumpy,
ere I staggers off to bed,
to huddle next to Grumpy!

Now Grumpy be me Missus,
and hers a luvely gal.
She be my bestest frend,
and me ever luvin pal.

Er likes to ave a cuddle,
wen us fust gos to bed.
Tiz thair we reminisce,
on the kinda life we’ve led.

Oi likes to kip on werking,
fer it kips Oi fit and spry.
But awl the wile Oi’m gard’ning
Oi kips a frendly eye,

on awl the garden appenings,
an wots taking place around.
Like strawberies that’s ripenin,
and mushrooms to be found!

This poem be just a zample,
of wot I trys to do.
Tiz wot zum cawl ‘a zummation,’
that Oi av writ for you.

Den The Gard’ner - aka - Rhymer.
November 5th, 2019.

(This is a little Monologue in the Dorset
dialect - as I recall it! Hope it makes you smile?)
PS:
Dorset dialect is special,
and a proper witches brew.
It may take many readings,
before it is clear to you,
these details biographical,
that I disclose to you,
are written in a language,
that is understood by few! Denis.


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