First Yokel: 'Tis Thomas Hardy's Birthday then.
Second Yokel: Ay. And that 'tis as well.
First Yokel: And a nesh baby, he were.
Second Yokel: That 'a were. And 'a grew up hard a nesh boy-chap, good-now, Neighbour.
First Yokel: You what?
Second Yokel: I said, he was a sickly child.
First Yokel: Well why don't you speak English? Yes, he was.
Second Yokel: And with all his fame, and Order of Merit and all, he's long-dead now.
First Yokel: Aye, as we all shall be.
Second Yokel: Shall us go to the White Horse for a pint of small, and then home - along, neighbour?
First Yokel: Aye, I've not had a drop o' tipple since nammet-tide on the Annunciation.
Second Yokel: Last Thursday? Tha must be a mere shudder of a mortal.
First Yokel: No, since yesterday. Pa'son Thirdly transferred it, on account of he's all Christminster now.
Second Yokel: There's a barrel beyond compare for us, then. Shall us?
First Yokel: Indeed, neighbour. For though too much of a wet may take us to the smoky house of the horned man, yet if we avoid the multiplying eye we may make it upstairs in the end.