Cumberland farm life : memorandum of old times

PERKINS
AGRICULTURAL LIBRARY

UNIVERSITY COLLEGE
SOUTHAMPTON

SOUTHAMPTON
UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

BOOK NUMBER

0 7 - G%A^S

CLASS MARK

Pr 9g7

CUMBERLAND FARM LIFE

MEMORANDUMS

OLD TIMES

WHITEHAVEN .
Callander & Dixon 3 Market Place
mdccclxix.

fa

CUMBERLAND FARM LIFE IN OLD TIMES

In its Mid County Dialect.

Fwok tells of oald times — sek good oakl times

They lied when they were o' young
And niver sek times sen them oald times

Was read on or hard on or sung.

I' winter time when t' weather was coald

They hardly stir't out o' t' neuk
Bit to fetch in a trugful o' peats 'cross t' foald

And sleekier about and smeuk.

They wad thresh a bet, mebby, and fodder their kye,

And poo a lock out o' t' hay mew,
And at neet efter milkin' and supper put bye,

Mak swills, or wad card skin woo.

Or mappen wad beetle a carlin sark

On t' beetlin' steann at t' door ;
Or plet a few strings o' hemp efter dark,

Or caper about on t' clay floor.

A carlin sark new was reimplement gear

To wear next a maisterman's skin ;
So he lent it to t' sarvent to beetle an' wear

By way of a brekkin in.

T' oakl fwok were drist in duffel blue.

And t' youngsters in heamm-spun grey,
And nowder were often ower clean or new —

Bit darn't frae clay to clay.

4

And o' wad liev bracking or strea in their clogs,

Or stickin' ower t' edge o' their shun,
And wad clammer up t' fell, or striddle through bogs :

Od man ! but this was laal fun ?

And still you believe they were rare oald times,

Far better nor any 'at 's new :
So I'll put summat down in canteran rhymes

And than you may judge if it's true.

Their habit o' leevin was poddish at mworn,

And taties and point at neunn :
To let thersels down wi' tea they wad scworn,

So they poddish't at eebnin seunn.

They kilt a fat cow at Martinmas time

And quartert wi' neighbours three ;
And except at Kersmas or clippin time,

Fray flesh they wer nar about free

Unless it was bacon, o' reesty and smeuk,

And kizzent and dry't like a sneck,
Till if it fell clown ontat' flags off t' heuk

It wad ring like a pot, or med brek.

And than they wad frizzel 't in t' sotteran pan

And fry't till as brown as a peat,
And conny laal bits wad be gien to ilk yan

On truncheons, to girn at and eat.

Their bread was clap-keakk meadd o' barley meal,

Or hard hawer bannock so thick.
Their cheese wad rowl down a fell side like a wheel.

Mappen hack't it to bits wid a pick.

For drink wid their dinner they'd sour-milk or whey ;

Or else, for a treat, treacle beer ;
And if any indulg'd in ought better, they say,

'Twad be talk't on for nar on a year.

5

And o' fare't alike — beath inaister and man,

In eatin and drinkin' or wark ;
Tkey turn'd out at morn and togidder began,

And left off togidder at dark.

And thur was their ways in tliem oalden times,

(For evidence stark we can bring
Tliat'l testify Strang to t' truth o' my rhymes)

When George the third was king.

Nowder oald man nor young wearr beard or moustache,

Bit they warn't slape feasst ebm than ;
For atween two Sundays they niver wad fash

And afoor church-time they began

At a week-oald beard to hassel and hack,

"Wid razor as blunt as a saw ;
If ya side gat off theer was nea gitten back

Till tudder was stubbelt an' o'

Bit theer two sides to this as to measst other things,
And it's fair 'at they beath sud be known.

Aa'll jingle a bit (while t' rest on ye sings)
And set it o' down as my oan

And month efter month for a heall year lahg

To tell ye how o' things went,
Aa'll bodder my brains for a kind of a sang

And mebby may send it to prent.

Jamt p v.

Kersenmas turn't, and some feastin gaan on,

Fwok up leatt at neet and sair tue't
To git till o' furthneets, and lievvin to don

Two sets o' duds, and they rue't :

For they say next Kersmas is far off to fetch,

And now-for't or niver, is thought.
They kewel and swing, and dance ledder-te-spetch,

And royster and swatter like ought.

They woken next mwornin and find thersels queer,

And o' out o' sworts for hard wark ;
Bit Kersemas conies nobbet yance in a year

And measst on't is kent efter dark.

Wi' snow a feiitt thick — mebby clean out o' cwols,

" Keaa fetch a pack-leadd on a horse.
"Pick t' best rwoad ther is, and mind keep out o' t' whols

" Lest thou torfor ont' moor, and 's a corse.

" If lang at t' cwol greiiv thou's to wait for thy bout,
" Or it's mist, or thou's thrown into neet,

" Thou mun put up' a shout and we'll raise a turn out
" And ont' foald yat will hing a leek" *

Now down wid a buryin-skin onta t' leath floor,

And thresh a lock bigg for a batch :
To t' deetin hill carry't, but forter't afoor ;

Than throw't up for breezes to catch.

Some wheat mun be cree't for a frummety dish
In t' creein trough, 'back o' t' leatth door.

A piggin o' that wid a bit o' sote fish,
Maks a dinner for rich or for poor.

Wow fit up a pillion for maister and deamm
To hotch off to t' town amang t' rest,

Top cwoat till his heels — she at startin frae heamm
In starcht cap wi' lugs, for her best.

For debts sucl be paid, and credits brought in ;

This was seldom but yeance in a year :
And at Cannelmas time they meaclcl a girt din

Ower payin and scrapin up geer.

* Often in use before commons were enclosed, or roads were made.

7

Now set t' parish prentice to cardin o' woo

To keep hirn at lieamm efter dark.
Theer scutchin o' line for men-fwok to do

For that's mair a man-body's wark ;

And wornan-fwok, they imm be whirran t' woo wheel,

Or spinnin a web frae their lint,
Or plyin tlieir teuls — their rock and their reel,

And singin o' t' while without stint.

It's canny to hear o' so cheerful gang on
Of a neet when it storms and it blows ;

For whatever's outside, wid a good fire on,
It's a comfort inside yan weel knows.

Now out wid a heamm-meadd roan-tree plue,

Wid ironin' scanty eneuff ;
Lait up strea braff'nis — reapp traces enue,

And see 'at they're o' draft preuff.

Next yoke in o' lang-horn't owsen two pair ;

Two lang-tailed horses unshod ;
Co't' plue-hodder, plue-co'ers two or three mair

Wi' speadd, and j)ettle, and prod.

Now t' bullocks nit yok't sen plue-time last year ;

His horses out-liggan, and lean,
And kaim'tly and t' trappins o' flimsily gear,

And t' ley fur stark as t' town green,

" Jee-hop and away my lads," t' plue hodder sings,
And they striddle and start for a try ;

A cobble flings t' plue out, and " wo-oy" he rings,
And his team is n't wont to comply.

I

8

He gangs on a bit and lie sticks in a ageami

And niebby gits on to t' land end,
And turns and gangs yark ! on another girt steann,

And fin Vis 'at bis team duzzent mend ;

For yan is coald shoudert ; another is teteh't ;

And some poos as hard as they can ;
And t' co'ers hes use't up o' t' patience they fetch't

And nit mickle better is t' man !

He roars and he sweers, and he yarks wid his cwords,

And he scops at his drivers wi' clods :
They whack wi' their yedders — shout uncanny words —

He batters away wi' hard sods.

Now t' oxen gits kysty and kevels about ;

Gits legs ower t' traces and o'.
His hoaf'-brokken horses seiinn kick thersels out

And poos him by t' neck* gayly low.

A plue-ceor lad is amang t' bullock feet ;

Two lasses rin skirlan heamm ;
T' curs fo' to barkan and baitan out-reet :

]STa wonder if some git a leam^m.

For sek a tow-lowe,- and sek crashin about,

Sek capers o' bullocks and men
Med set them to yope and to yernestly shout

They wad niver plue mair wi' t' lang ten. t

Than heam^ to cow't lword and het piggins o' keall

O' masselton pez o' dark grey,
Wi' groats and round haver-meal stir't. Sek a meall

Was nit to be hed ivery day.

* It was the custom for the ploughman to wear the guiding cords in one
piece, the middle being behind his neck, that he might not drop the cords
whdst his hands were engaged in holding the stilts and throwing sods at his
team.

t The set out consisted often individuals without the dogs.

9

And snug may they mak ther sels round a hearth fire
While t' wind roars and brullies outside ;

And sleet brings down t' chirnla seut-drops thick as mire
And they couldn't keep't out if they try'd.

Bit storms o' git ower and whietness comes,

And mishaps may seunn be forgitten,
Efter sleepin' o' neet as sound like as drums

A new job for mworn mun be hitten.

And now for pwok-mittens on dinnellan hands,

And dykin mittens and swatch
To mend up some gaps round plewin lands,

And waik spots, and creep-whols to patch.

When frost gits away theer haver to sow,

And a heedlin' o' hemp or line ;
And mebby a lock mair in t' hempgarth an' o'

For winter-neet wark to plet twine.

Now muck's to be cary't in hots and creels,

To cover some scraps of oald land
In side-bank fields, whoar cars on clog wheels

Wad hardly be seaff to stand.

A smo' lock o' taties will hev to be set

In lazy-bed fashion I trow.
Nea miss or disease lied than to met

For e'en t' varra peelins wad grow.

Bit peelin o' taties was thought a girt sham,

And t' prentice was setten to scrapin ;
Nea doubt he thought scrapin was nought bit a " bam,"

And was laid onta him as a snapin.

10

Than lie wad git drowsy, and noddle and scrape,

As an unpaid prentice wad dee ;
His knife and his taty wad seun git so slape

They wad rowl out o' hand off his knee.

And than for a clout ower t' lug, or a skelp
That he thought nowder music nor rhyme ;

For he was install'd as a farmer's help
In that far-away good oald time.

Now lambin' time's on, beatth in April and May ;

Now up seun and leatt, or o' neet
To suckle laal starvelins by neet and by day

And see them git onto their feet.

If yance they git milk and can wander about,

They care not for frost nor for snow •
For it's plenty o' suckle 'et gars them git stout —

To skip, and to lowp and to grow.

No cleanin' o' land, nor pickin' o' weeds ;

Let iv'ry thing prosper 'et can ;
For o'. plants were sent us to ripen their seeds

And mak ther sels useful to man.

Dry thissels mak capital eldin for t' fire,

And dockin-stalks narly as good
For hettin a yub'm or beddin a byer ;

Seah thought our fworelders they dud !

And t' mother o' girse was that lang reutit twitch, *
Girt plenty they grew — dunnot doubt it.

If any amang them was keen to grow rich
They niver could mannish without it !

* The use of the feather of the sock was abolished lest it should cut
and destroy the roots of the twitch or couch-grass.

11

And cleet-leaves for smokin' in black scutty pipe

Wid bacca a varra smo' matter,
Wad raise a girt reek, when a sup o' yal swipes

Or smo' beer wad help a smo' chatter.

That wisk-weshy tea now so mickle in use ;

Co' it " spend-time" or "trash" for you may,
Was a treat for our girt fwoks, and nit for abuse,

By usin' it three times a-day.

While girsins is bare efter lambs and their yowes,

Milk kye hessent mickle to eat ;
Than croppins of esh mun be foddert on t' howes

To give to t' oalcl milkers a treat.

Now joggan to market on butter-kits two,

And basket wi' garn and eggs
Packt seaff in a wallet o' drab stripe and blue,

And slung onder beutt-stockin't legs

Waggan lowse widout stirrups astride of a pad,
And hotchan through swang and through syke ;

Plodan away on a cwornless yad,

Cross t' moor widout rwoad or dyke,

No dinner, no nought bit three hoperth o' yal,

And horse in a foalcl at sneck hay.
Scrapan and seavvan t' days takkins nar heall

And -map'm gang swober away.

Now grund up a flay-speadd to cut toppin peat,
Wid lang speadd for black peats forbye,

And spreed them weel out, to git wind and sun heat,
And stir them sometimes till they dry.

12

Than hey for good spwort when conies peat leadin time

And gittan them seaff into stack ;
For wet-weather peatin wad spoil any ryhme

And poverty bring on its back.

Ink

Now gedder in t' sheep and wesh them in t' dem,
And swing them and sop them in t' watter :

If a waik an sud torfer it's nobbet t' oald gem (game)
And mebby it's nea girt matter.

Sek bleatin o' lambs, and sek barkiu o' dogs !

Sek jybin and jwokin o' men !
Sek clat'rin o' lads in their oald cokert clogs !

Sek drinkin o' whisky ! Amen.

Let sheep run a fortneet and than comes on clippin.

And bleatin, and fieecin o' woo.
They submit, without whimper, to tyhi and strippin

And feel leetsom they hardly know how.

Sek a ged'rin' o' clippers and helpers and that !

Sek elbows, and clinkin o' shears !
Sek sweatin ! sek crackin o' dogs, and o' what

An income some woo-buyer clears !

Now clippin o' done, comes weshin o' hands

And kestin off scoggers and brats.
A fleece is hung up on a powl in t' lang-lands

To be run for without shun or hats.

The prize is awarded, to feastin they wend

At a plain but a plentiful spreed
On broad pewder dishes, weel leadden at t' end

And trenchers off whilk they can feed.

13

Next out wid a punch bowl, and yal i' girt plenty,

Wi' homs and glasses to drink frae ;
And piggins, and mugs, bit nought varra dainty,

And nought 'at a clipper need shrink frae.
Than a whyat laal crack for about hoaf an hour,

And a buzz — seun to rise till a chang :
Than somebody knattles on t' teable befoor

He says "lads you mun join in my sang,"

* " Here's a good health to the man o' this house,
" The man o' this house, the man o' this house,

" Here's a good health to the man o' this house,
" For he is a right honest man.

" And he that doth this health deny,
" Before his face I justify (or just defy)

" Eight in his face this glass shall fly,
" So let this health go round.

" Place the canny cup to your chin,

" Open your mouth and let liquor run in.

" The more you drink the fuller your skin,
" So let this health go round."

Than " 0 good ale thou art my darlin."

And t' shepherds " Tarry woo."
" The Eaven and the grey Eock Starlin."

And many a ringer too.

And than they depart in good humour and peace

To heainm for a few hours sleep ;
While clippins hod on their labors weent cease ;

They mun rise wid mwomin's furst peep

To help a good neighbour at his merry meetin',

A heall country side to employ
In housin and clippin, wi'. much friendly greetin

For clippins are meetins o' joy.

* A very old clipping song. The guests in turn obey the commands of
the third and last verse, and if the glass is not emptied by the end of the
refrain the penalty is enforced a second time. And if a man was desirous to
get quickly drunk he would incur the penalty till his aim was accomplished.

14

Now mowers can't work through t' middle o' t' day

For t' bitin o' clegs, and for heat ;
So they snoozle some hours on t' new gitten hay,

And mak't up by workan at neet.
Till t' glowworm leets up, than to blanket they stakker

To snatch a laal sleep, and than rise [chatter)
And at it (while t' white-throats in t' dykes cherr and

And whittle-te-whet their lang scyes.
Than skalin and turnin wi' fork and wi' reakk,

And skewin t' about to dry,
And cockin, and brekkin, for good hay to meakk,

And rake into plat fbrbye.
Neist dess up in trusses and tye wid a reapp :

Or cram, if it's short, into sheet :
For if it be windy a part nied esceapp

And waste a girt lock afoor neet.
Than up wi't on horseback and loup on ahint,

And away to t' leatth door in a crack.
Hitch't off onta t' peazz, and about, sharp as flint,

And gallop like mad o' t' way back.
Now V main weight o' t' hay crop sud be geddert in

And t' fag end '11 follow in time ;
Theer still a few slaggarts to saunter ahint',

And niver wi' t' foormest can shine.

Bit no idle time need be spent on a farm

If a man's nobbet mindit to work :
He may pettle about, keepin o' things frae harm,

And at it frae mwornin till murk.

And if sucl he slack for a day or for two
He's seaff to find summat geann wrang :

And than he mun fettle and be in a stew,
And find his sel double-ly thrang.

15

His reuf may want patchin, and lie out o' thack :
He may out onta t' moor and poo ling,

Or bring in a burden o' seaves on his back,
For strea's ower costly a tiling.

Now sliearin, and binMin, and stookin is rife,

And workin frae dayleet till dark.
Ey, workin as if they were workin for life

As hard as they fairly can yark.

Beatth maister and men wear beards a week oald
And shave, if they've time, at t' week end.

They mun stick to their sickles be't het or be 't coald,
Nor straight their backs out of a bend.

Harvest gits endit like meast other things,

And kern-supper follows as sure.
A thanksgiving feast contentment still brings

If a morsel be spared to the poor.

Than hey for thick bannocks and rich butter sops,

Wid iv'ry thing dainty and nice.
T' maister says " fettle tee lads we've gaily good crops,"

And neabody needs preezin twice

To piggins o' frummety, (barley and milk)

And bannocks and butter to follow !
And sops so smeath 'at they slip down like silk,

They bang watter poddish clean hollow

Than t' breet pewder dishes begin to leuk howe

And mickle mair cannot weel spend : [powe,

And youngsters '11 stritch their arms — some scrat their
Ilk yan o' them full to t' thropple end.

16

Harvest o' fiiiish't and o' sydit up

Theer steepia o' hemp and line,
And bleachia't on grass, clear o' wet, ev'ry sup,

Than house it for makkin o' twine.

©dabzx.

Now barns sucl be sent til a Whittlegeat man

(As haytime and harvest is ower)
To larn them to read, write, and count — if he can,

Or else they'll be daft as a stower.

Their skeulin '11 come to some money by t' spring
At a penny a week for ilk heed ; [string

T maister's clogs and kelt cwoat they'll mannish to
Into t' Poor Beuk — famish good thing.

Now settin o' tar, and soavin o' sheep,

Taks up some time and some labor.
Efter sixteen hours sittin a soaver may creep

Off to bed and nit visit his nabor.

Bit o' mayn't be whiet at times like this,

And befwore o' t' soavin is done
A set o' good soavers wad grummel to miss

Their lang-used jwokin and fun.

They tire o' lang sittin, and lang for a reass,

Or a lark, or a moonleet russle.
And many a youngan gits larn't a fast peass,

Or a conquerin chip in a tussle.

ISTow soavin nar through and swortin o' sheep,

A deal of odd things are to side ;
And lang kidney taties to fork up and keep

For taty and point to provide.

17

For in times we co' good in them oald-warld days
When they'd plenty wi' pinehin gay hard,

In scrattin and seavvin up o' waifs and strays,
They niver durst play a wrang card.

Now kye grows uneasy for want o' some fog ;

Through hazel and wythe they'll rush ;
Than leadd them wi clammers, and cow beam, and clog

You cannot depend on a bush,

Nor a thorn, nor an oakl clog-wheel in a gap,
Nor a teuthless oald harrow in t' dyke ;

And t' bull sud be biggelt or he'll in full slap
And care not a wink for dog " Tyke.''

-|Tot ember.

Now t' kye o' ty't up wi' wooden D bands,
And t' coaves ty't wi' plettit hemp string.

T' woman-fwok poos them hay wi' their hands
And nurses them through till spring.

T' young fwoks '11 gang till a cannel-seave syke

And pick a shaft' strangans for leets,
Than hotter to hea'mm, through bog and wet dyke,

To peel them and dip them at' neets.

They turn in at neet wi' their clogs o' skarn

And clean them a bit yeance a week.
They'd rayder spin hanks o' rough sheep-langel garn,

And mak t' woo-wheel to whirr and to squeak.

As threshin time's here we fit up a flail
Wi' handstaff, and soople, and cappin,

And hingin, and hing it on t' wo' on a nail
Till wantit for threshin and wappin.

•18

Martinmas endit and teram time done

In a laal bit o' huntin what harm;
If yan steal off some mwom for a good clays run

While t' weather's just canny and warm 1

Than up and be off for a day-brek quest,

Wid a merry and lively chang :
It thrills through yan's brisket as if yan was blest

Wid o' good things and niver ought wrang.

Harkaway! see she's off ! o'er hill and through whol

We spank till we're gaily nar done :
Than hingan a lip like a motherless fwol

Sleekier heamward, but nit in a run.

And next clown wi' t' listers and out wid a lowe,

And away into t' beck efter dark ;
A salmon or two will be welcome I trow,

Tho' listerin's canny coald wark.

A cut o' dry't salmon's a teastily thing

When flesh meat cannot be hed.
It's a savory change and will appetite bring

For poddish and taties and bread.

£1 .camber.

They dress up some wots for a melder o' meal,

And dry't in a kiln in 't kiln croft :
Than to t' bond-sucken mill tak't to oald Robin Peel,

And a man mun keep watch at t' mill toft

To stiddy his mouter-dish— help him to sift it,
And see it's o' tidily clone ; _

Any gedder up offal, and heamward to skift it,
And hev sooins as sure as a gun.

19

Fwok ree's a lock wheat in a seive, if they hev't,

And tliat was their deetin machine.
Or they teuk't onta t' deetin hill, whither they gev't

O' t' wind they could gedder on t' green.

A masselton batch will be sent off to t' mill

For Sunday and Kersennias breed ;
And for -pies, a laal pwok o' some bettermer still,

For that's thought a varra good deed.

They've havver meal poddish ; and havver meal breed,

As thin as a sixj)ence they rowl't.
They beakk't on a girdle, and onta t' wo' heed

T' rattans on t' rannel tree, bold

Wad slyly leuk down, watchan o' 'at they dee,

And waitin impatient for neet
When they pop down as seun as o's whyet they see,

To clean up t' strow't meal for their treat.

And now you've a swatch o' them good oald days

At fwok brags on as hevvin lang sen ;
And you know summat now o' their wark and their

Wad ye swap eb'm hands, good men 1 [ways.

20

CROSSYATS BOGGLE, (Lamplugh)
Which always fore-set folk.

Tom Speddy 'd been on at a Club-neet at Cross

Whoar he drank and he hakkert and sang
Till it soundit as if he was singan through moss,
And than towarts heamm he wad gang.
Now Tom in his cups,
Efter three or four sups,
Or pints as they co' them
By t' neirai we o' know them.
Was as bold as a lang-horn't bull :
And was riddy to feight
Any man of his weight,
Or a feut mair height :
(He'd lied many hard whacks on his skull.)
Bit a few pints mair
Teuk his courage down sair,
And than he was nobbet like other fwok.
And at startin frae t' Cross he bethought o' t' skeiil beck,
Whoar a girt white boggle without heed or neck
Was said in oald times to sair bother fwok.
Seah Tom set to thinkin, and thought narly reet,
It was nin varra canny if boddert that neet
Wid a thing he could nowder mak end-lang nor side on't ;
And at last he eonsidert to keep gaily wide on't.
He could hardly walk street
In that fine summer neet,
So down by Murton Whol he stakkert

To gang a mile about,
And muttert tull his sel and hakkert.

Fairly clear o' doubt
Or fear of any evil thing :

And as he wandert on his way,
And just about to tiy to sing
To keep his spirits frae decay,

21

And gittan on to Crossyats bock,

A white thing flasht his een across
And sat and screecht on t' watter heck,

And pot Tom fairly till a loss ;
For up it gat and flew ageann,
And let awhile on t' wo' end steann,
And than it screecht, and hisst and skirlt,
As round his heed it whuft and whirlt,
Ilk way he turnt it still foorset him,
As if to heamm it waddent let him

Gang that neet.
And than it flasht up in a tree
(That girt oald Esh so broad and hee

And thick and street,
At C'rossyats neiik it stood and grew
And into it this boggle flew, )
And hovert ower a pyet nest ;
And as Tom's courage it wad test
A screech it gave bangt o' the rest !

Wi' sek a hissin up that tree,

By witch or warse, or warlocks three,

Or hagworms any quantity !

Tom fear't if they war o' set free

That down and at him they wad be.
And than beside him, nar his feet,
Sek awful greans that awful neet !
They gar't his varra skin to creep,

And caus'd his steps to plet and vary.
He wisht he'd been at heamm asleep

In t' Bird Dyke loft beside oald Mary.
His seet was mebby nit so clear
As it hed been some former year.
And what was that low liggan thear ?
He thought it mud be summat whick,
For it appear't to fidge and kick ;
And than for sure some irons rattelt
As if ageann t' oald tree it battelt.
It put him in a mortal flay !
He cuddent run — he dursent stay. ;
For if it and turn out old oald Nick

22

Was gaan to play some impish trick,

When imps so many flapt about him

They seaff wad catch, and scrat, and clout him.

Just than another thing foorset him.

A man stark neakt com on and met him,

Neakt but his sark and white beard lang ;

He seemt beatth to' and broad and Strang.

Tom shakt and whiddert in his shun,

For he was lost, sure as a gun.

It's lang sen Tom get sek a flay.

It fairly dreuv his drink away.

Bit seun he fand some smo' relief

And mebby meddent come to grief,

For t' man was nobbet oald John Wood, *

That whietly beside him stood.

Seah Tom buckt up and axt him "what

"He thought o' sek a thing as that ? "

Says John "It's drucken oald Scotch Jock."

"Dust' say seah ? Ey it is begock."

And Jock it was, and ravan drunk,

Batteran at that Esh tree trunk

Wid ham'r and trowan in ya hand

Jinglan ; yet he cuddent stand,

Bit he could grunt, and rave and greann,

And kick, and strike at tree or steami ;

As mad as any mastiff dog

When worryin sheep, or lamb, or hog.

Now Tom gain't pluck and leukt around

And seun he larnt, that screechan sound

And hagworm-hiss abeun his heed

Sprang frae a hulert and her breed ;

A hungry nestful up that tree,

And mebby nar as flayt as he.

He bad "good neet" to Murton John

And left Scotch Jock to snoozle on.

* A harmless lunatic, accustomed to wander abroad in the nights without
ny covering but a shirt While the West Pier was being built at Whitehaven
e occasionally went there in the night, and could report progress to one or
wo who were in his confidence.

Ageann he leukt, and seun lie saw
Another white thing on a wo'.
Says Tom " this is a flaysom neet,
"For turn which way I will, 1 meet
"Some gi-untan thing or boggle white."
But Tom was gittan sober quite,
And went to see this new white thing,
And hakkert "eh, eh, eh, by jing !
" I thought it mud be summat queer,
" It's Jwony Braithet oald white meer
"Just rais'd her heed on t' top o' V wo'."
And that was t' last white thing Tom saw.

D

June, 1869.

Callander & Dixon, Printers, 3j Market Place, Whitehaven.

SOUTHAMPTON UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

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