Don't Ceaere
At the feaest, I do mind very well, all the vo'ksWer a-took in a happeren storm,But we chaps took the maidens, an' kept em wi' clokesUnder shelter, all dry an' all warm;An' to my lot vell Jeaene, that's my bride,That did titter, a-hung at my zide;Zaid her aunt, "Why the vo'k 'ull talk finely o' you,"An', cried she, "I don't ceaere if they do."When the time o' the feaest wer ageaen a-come round,An' the vo'k wer a-gather'd woonce mwore,Why she guess'd if she went there, she'd soon be a-voundAn' a-took seaefely hwome to her door.Zaid her mother, "'Tis sure to be wet."Zaid her cousin, "'T'ull rain by zunzet."Zaid her aunt, "Why the clouds there do look black an' blue,"An' zaid she, "I don't ceaere if they do."
An' at last, when she own'd I mid meaeke her my bride,Vor to help me, an' sheaere all my lot,An' wi' faithvulness keep all her life at my zide,Though my way mid be happy or not.Zaid her naighbours, "Why wedlock's a clog,An' a wife's a-tied up lik' a dog."Zaid her aunt, "You'll vind trials enough vor to rue,"An', zaid she, "I don't ceaere if I do."
Now she's married, an' still in the midst ov her tweilsShe's as happy's the daylight is long,She do goo out abroad wi' her feaece vull o' smiles,An' do work in the house wi' a zong.An', zays woone, "She don't grieve, you can tell."Zays another, "Why, don't she look well!"Zays her aunt, "Why the young vo'k do envy you two,"An', zays she, "I don't ceaere if they do."
Now vor me I can zing in my business abrode,Though the storm do beaet down on my poll,There's a wife-brighten'd vier at the end o' my road,An' her love vor the jay o' my soul.Out o' door I wi' rogues mid be tried:Out o' door be brow-beaeten wi' pride;Men mid scowl out o' door, if my wife is but true--Let em scowl, "I don't ceaere if they do."
Words in this poem
- vell n.
- The salted stomach of a calf, used in making cheese; a rennet bag. [Cf. L. vellus the skin of a sheep with the wool on it, a fleece, a hide or pelt, or E. fell a hide.]
- went n.
- Course; way; path; journey; direction.
- daylight n.
- The light of day as opposed to the darkness of night; the light of the sun, as opposed to that of the moon or to artificial light.
- scowl v. i.
- To wrinkle the brows, as in frowning or displeasure; to put on a frowning look; to look sour, sullen, severe, or angry. [Akin to Dan. skule; cf. Icel. skolla to skulk, LG. schulen to hide one's self, D. schuilen, G. schielen to squint, Dan. skele, Sw. skela, AS. sceolh squinting. ]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Don't Ceaere is in the public domain. This text is taken from Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect, Project Gutenberg ebook #21785; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: William Barnes, Don't Ceaere, in Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect (1844–1862), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #21785, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/barnes-dorset/don-t-ceaere.html, id L02346.
Form and metre
Don't Ceaere is 40 lines in 4 stanzas. The rhyme scheme is ABABCCDD, complete in 2 of its 4 stanzas. 98% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.2 syllables. 10% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 ABABCCDDEFEF--DD vo'ksA · stormB · clokesA · warmB · brideC · zideC · youD · doD · roundE · mworeF · voundE · doorF · wet · zunzet · blueD · doD
- 2 ABAB--CC brideA · lotB · zideA · notB · clog · dog · rueC · doC
- 3 ABABCCDD tweilsA · longB · smilesA · zongB · tellC · wellC · twoD · doD
- 4 ABABCCDD abrodeA · pollB · roadA · soulB · triedC · prideC · trueD · doD
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| At the feaest, I do mind very well, all the vo'ks | 12 | ······/˘···· |
| Wer a-took in a happeren storm, | 9 | ········· |
| But we chaps took the maidens, an' kept em wi' clokes | 12 | ·····/˘····· |
| Under shelter, all dry an' all warm; | 9 | ··/˘····· |
| An' to my lot vell Jeaene, that's my bride, | 9 | ········· |
| That did titter, a-hung at my zide; | 9 | ··/˘····· |
| Zaid her aunt, "Why the vo'k 'ull talk finely o' you," | 12 | ········/˘·· |
| An', cried she, "I don't ceaere if they do." | 9 | ········· |
| When the time o' the feaest wer ageaen a-come round, | 12 | ············ |
| An' the vo'k wer a-gather'd woonce mwore, | 9 | ·····/˘·· |
| Why she guess'd if she went there, she'd soon be a-vound | 12 | ············ |
| An' a-took seaefely hwome to her door. | 10 | ·········· |
| Zaid her mother, "'Tis sure to be wet." | 9 | ··/˘····· |
| Zaid her cousin, "'T'ull rain by zunzet." | 9 | ··/˘····· |
| Zaid her aunt, "Why the clouds there do look black an' blue," | 12 | ············ |
| An' zaid she, "I don't ceaere if they do." | 9 | ········· |
| An' at last, when she own'd I mid meaeke her my bride, | 12 | ············ |
| Vor to help me, an' sheaere all my lot, | 9 | ········· |
| An' wi' faithvulness keep all her life at my zide, | 12 | ············ |
| Though my way mid be happy or not. | 9 | ·····/˘·· |
| Zaid her naighbours, "Why wedlock's a clog, | 9 | ·····/··· |
| An' a wife's a-tied up lik' a dog." | 9 | ········· |
| Zaid her aunt, "You'll vind trials enough vor to rue," | 12 | ·····/˘˘/··· |
| An', zaid she, "I don't ceaere if I do." | 9 | ········· |
| Now she's married, an' still in the midst ov her tweils | 12 | ··/˘········ |
| She's as happy's the daylight is long, | 9 | ··/˘·/··· |
| She do goo out abroad wi' her feaece vull o' smiles, | 12 | ····˘/······ |
| An' do work in the house wi' a zong. | 9 | ········· |
| An', zays woone, "She don't grieve, you can tell." | 9 | ········· |
| Zays another, "Why, don't she look well!" | 9 | ·˘/˘····· |
| Zays her aunt, "Why the young vo'k do envy you two," | 12 | ········/˘·· |
| An', zays she, "I don't ceaere if they do." | 9 | ········· |
| Now vor me I can zing in my business abrode, | 12 | ········/˘·· |
| Though the storm do beaet down on my poll, | 9 | ········· |
| There's a wife-brighten'd vier at the end o' my road, | 12 | ···/˘······· |
| An' her love vor the jay o' my soul. | 9 | ········· |
| Out o' door I wi' rogues mid be tried: | 9 | ········· |
| Out o' door be brow-beaeten wi' pride; | 9 | ········· |
| Men mid scowl out o' door, if my wife is but true-- | 12 | ············ |
| Let em scowl, "I don't ceaere if they do." | 9 | ········· |
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