POETRY.
MEVAGISSEY.
YEW'M from Lunnon, are 'ee, yew, •
Traiipesin' down along o' we ? Us can shaw 'ee thing or two
Peart as ivver yew may be ; Lunnon yolks dew fleer an' fuss,
Stare at 'e4 an' quiz 'ee- Fashions nivver troubles us Down to Mevagissey.
Us be only fisher chaps, Proper Cornish ivery wan, Doan't taiike stock to sich-like traps- Maiikes 'ee look too spicky-span ; Glad to see 'ee, though, sure 'nough- Git the cloam* down, Lizzy- Us can give 'ee best o' stuff Down to Mevagissey.
Dish o tay—now do 'ee stop, Bain't a many knaws our way; Taiiste o' cream, yew, just a drop
'Fore us traiipeses down the bay; Hark to waives on thicky coast—
Fair et maiikes 'ee dizzy, Us can fesh, though, well as moast Down to Mevagissey !
'Tes main dulsome now an' then- Iss, fay, when the winter's long ; Still, it maiikes the brats gert men, Graws 'en big an' braiive an' strong.
So yew'm gwaine, then, with yer yolk ?
Aw, yew be main busy—
When yew'm up to Lunnon smoke Think o' Mevagissey
WILFRID L. RANDELL.
*Cloam,mehina.