Buller Day in Exeter



Twenty-zackon’ day o’ November, nineteen ’underd an’ nort. I’ll make ’e a bet o’ a zhillun thit I don’t vorget thiky day een a ’urry. Twiz tha mostest day vor zite-zeein’ ever I knaw’d, an’ zo zed aul o’s.

Laur massey wat us did zee thiky day tu be zure! The way us wiz pewshed about, an’ the way my pore carns wiz stepped upon, I tull ’e wat’s true, tes a murracle I’ve got uther vute lef’ pin tha eend o’ me ligs ’tarl. But I widden a missed zeein’ o’t vor aul tha munny een tha wurdle.

Wull I knaws wan thing, an’ that’s thees yer. Eef Gen’ral Bul-ler ’ad any doubts ’bout wat Demshur vokes thort o’n avore, ’e need’n ’ad none arterwads. ‘

Us aul went ta Exeter tu zee un. Draved up aul tha way. Whane us kom vore tu St. David’s Station thair us seed tha sojers aul ztude up een a line. Twiz a brave zite zure nuff.

Zum ’ad on ’urd coats an’ zum blue coats, an’ zum wiz ridin’ pin ’osses, way whit coord pin thur breastes like a gurdire.

They witch wiz pin osses weared ’ats vor aul tha gude een tha wurdle like a wumman’s muff, ztude pin een’, way a piece o’ urd vlannel.

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Zo us did. Us zhawed up our tickets and they ’lowed us tu go ’vore een. ’Tes a vine place vor tha like o’ that, vor yu can aul ztan’ around and ev’rybody can zee, where they be tarl or shart.

Twaz a putty zite ony tu lukee around an’ zee aul tha vokes ztude zo thick, yu cude’n zee tha grass vor vaaces.

Arter a bit us zid a car-ridge kom een, drayed by tha Vire Brigade chaps. But twadden Buller thees time, twiz tha Major een a vine hurd coat, an’ a ’at witch lukeed as though zumbody ad zot down pon un an’ med ’n vlat.

But tha nex’ car’ridge wiz Buller’s, an’ tha Vire Brigade wiz drayin’ ’e to. Gen’ral Buller an’ Lady Audrey wiz zot in un, an’ I doan’ mind makin’ a bet o’ hapny that ees neck wiz zteef aul the nex’ day dru tha manes o’ makin’ zo many bows, vurst wan zide an’ then tuther.

My ayes, ’ow tha vokes did olly to be zure!

“Dree chairs vor Bul—ler! ” zays wan.

“Dree more!” goeth anuther, an’ us olleyed an’ barled tull as wiz ’oarst as cats.

Tho up ztap Laurd Clinton, an’ ’e did make a vine spich zure nuff.

“Wat waz us thair vor’!” zo a-zed, “us wiz thair tu gi’ a welkom ’ome to a sojer.”

“Ev’ry inch o’n,” olleys out zum chap be’ind.

“A sojer whu ’ave do’d ees jewty,” zes Laurd Clinton agean; an’ away da go agean, hurd as us cude zhout.

Tho I lookeed round tu zum o’ they young sojer chaps ztude up so zmurtt way thur zords, an’ I cude zee they wid a-ad wan lig cut off eef they cude be up thur like Gen’ral Buller waz. An I thort tu mezel, “Jan,” I zes, “whane vokes zes tn yu that tes rediklus tu make aul thees yer vuss auver wan man, an’ tu gi’ un things whane ’e hath a-got plenty of ees awn, yu jiss think o’ they thur young sojers, an’ tha lesson they larned thiky day; an’ whane anuther war koms, yu jiss watch they young chaps an’ zee eef they bant raddy tu gi’ thur last drap o’ blid vor ole England. Vor they’ll knaw ole England wull be gratevul like tu ’m."

Wull arter Laurd Clinton ’ad vinished ees spich, ’e gid tha zord tu Gen’ral Buller. Twiz a bewty zure nuff, aul gold an’ zilver, an’ arter ’twiz aul auver ees darter ’itch ’un on vor’n.

Buller ztude up vor tu make a spich. But law bless yer art, ’e cude’n make no ztart vor the noise tha vokes did make.

Owsoever, tu last they wiz quiet, an’ whane they waz quiet, they waz quiet. Een aul that big plaace yu cude a-yeered a pin drap, axcept whane tha chairs broked out agean.

Gen’ral Buller zed ’e wiz narvous. An’ I’ll mak ’e bet ’e wid aul zo zune stand up ’vore a urgement o’ Boers as ’e wid vaace a ’ole lot o’ vokes chairin’ o’n.

I carn mind aul wat ’e zed, but wat ’e did zay ’e spoaked out like a. man.

‘An’ whane ’e ’ad vinished they drayed un away zames ’e kom een; an’ us aul zinged “Vor ees a jolly gude veller,” an’ tha band played “ God Zave tha Quane.”



There is no equivalent in the third edition to "Buller day in Exeter."