Dictouionnaîthe
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Now come along, my young Fraînque, and help your Auntie at the sink. I'm terribly beheinedaine. Wash me that heavy sâsse-paine. Tchèrli can scour the smaller one if he knows how, sénévéganne; and you can pour away the slops while I prepare some fresh tournopse. We'll cook them in the new tinne-pot, so see the fire is very hot, riddle it out with the pôqueur bequeathed me by ta mère, ma soeur. Your fire is dead. Bring wood, you dunce, paper and tondre-bosc at once. Don't look for it upon the floor; it's in my dressine-têbl'ye drawer, or, half a minute, dans ma poche. Then hurry with the scrobine-broche and clean that mess around the stove; and then some bliatchin, my love. Tomorrow will be laundry-day, when tout le monde va ouâchinner. We're out of marguérinne, by Damn! I'd better have my evening dranme, And then a pépèr'mène, (you see the Curé might drop in for tea); and then I think I'll take a stroll to pick a bunch of plieunm'tholle, unless some tourist leunatique has snatched them all on his pique-nique. Some here and there he may have spared, though not for others, the blégèrde, but as he munched his last sannouiche he missed a few, sénévébitche. I'd better wear my old jèrtchîn; and if it rains while I'm away, make sure you spread the tèrpalîn over the stack of drying hay. |
(Other poets may take over the burden of this refrain, weaving in Ouêmue, Porche'mue, pîn'tchébècque, Côletèrre, lîngot, sno, stînme; and those of nautical bent might work in tâp-sèle, and bouête-hook).
1971