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tihv<{xy of trhe trheolo^ical ^eminarjo 
 
 PRINCETON • NEW JERSEY 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 Princeton University 
 Library 
 
 35 IRS 
 .DSN8Z. 
 
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 i;iTi| ^0110 of Solomon, 
 
 VERSIFIED FROM THE 
 
 ENGLISH TRANSLATION OF JAMES OF ENGLAND, 
 
 INTO THE DIALECT OF THE 
 
 COLLIERS OF NORTHUMBERLAND, 
 
 BUT PRINriPALLV THOSE 
 
 DWELLING ON THE BANKS OF THE TYNE. 
 
 Jf Pr ROBSON, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "tYNESIDE SONGS," " BARDS OF THE TVNE," ETC. 
 
 i860. 
 
I certify that only 250 copies of this work ha've been printed, of which 
 one is on thick paper, ivith red border. 
 
 GEORGE BARCLAY, 
 28 Caftle Street, Leicefter Square. 
 
SOLOMON'S SANG. 
 
 ^airt Jpurst. 
 
 npHE fang iv a' the tother fangs, 
 
 King Solomon's is beft. 
 Let him wi' kiffes fqueeze maw gob. 
 
 His luve's Hke wine new preft. 
 The fmell iv his fine farve is nice. 
 
 His neym's like oil teem'd oot; 
 O a' wor lafTes foller thee, — 
 
 They like thee well, ne doot, 
 
 'Tice us, an' we'll run efter thee, — 
 The king is full o' fpree ; 
 
 He browt me tiv his fleepin'-pleyce. 
 Where beds wes meyd for me. 
 
 _i43S4:5 
 
4 Solomon'' s Sang. 
 
 We'll a' be fond to play wi' thee. 
 Thaw luve we think fe fine; 
 
 The jenick likes thee, for thaw luve 
 Teyftes better far nor wine. 
 
 Aw's black, but bonny, Salem lafTes, 
 
 Like the Kedar-fhows ; 
 Or, like the cortins where wor king 
 
 Lies under for a doze. 
 Noo, divent glower at me fe, 
 
 Becas aw's black as feut ; 
 Becas the fun maw fkin hes tann'd. 
 
 Maw mother's bairns cries, " Slut!" 
 
 They meyd me like fome owerman, 
 
 Grape-gardins fet to watch ; 
 But aw ha'e niver keekt aboot 
 
 Me awn grape-gardin patch. 
 "O tell me, hinny ! maw fowl's luve! 
 
 Where dift thou get thaw beyte ? 
 Where, wi' thaw lammies dift thou gan 
 
 Et twelve o'clock to wait ? 
 What for becas, fud aw be fond 
 
 To turn an' gan away. 
 When, wi' thaw lammie-marrows, luve. 
 
 Thou hes a mind to play ? " 
 
Pairt Furfl. 
 
 " O bonnieft thing o' woman-fort ! 
 
 Whie ef thou difent ken, 
 Juft foller reet the bleeters' paws. 
 
 An' feun thoo'll find me then; 
 An' beyte the maa-lams, where they lie 
 
 Afide thor Ihipherd-men !" 
 
 Maw luve, aw'll tell thee what thoo's like. 
 
 For O thoo's beautiful ! 
 A cumpany o' horfes grand 
 
 That Pharo's coaches pull ! 
 Fine raws o' jools hing doon thaw cheeks ; 
 
 Thaw neck's wiv goold-cheyns f^t ; 
 But gooldin borders thoo mun ha'e, 
 
 Wiv filler buttons, pet ! 
 
 Noo, elways, when maw Solomon 
 
 Sits doon his flefh to eat, 
 The faented hair-oil on me heed 
 
 Smells iv his nofe fe fweet ! 
 Maw cumley darlin's like a bunch 
 
 O' pofies in maw eye ; 
 Aw fhure, a' neet atween maw breefls. 
 
 Maw Solomon fall lie ! 
 
SolomorCs Sang. 
 
 Like camfor-bags tied on a firing. 
 
 Maw fweetheart is te me ! 
 Sic camfor that in grape-yards grows 
 
 Upon Engeddi's tree. 
 Lucka ! maw hinny, but thoo's fair! 
 
 Thoo bangs a' other luves ; 
 O verra bonny, cumley, nice. 
 
 Thaw peepers like the duves' ! 
 Wor hoofe hes jeefts o' pencil-wood; 
 
 For-rafters, tee, aloft ; 
 An' then wor bed, where oft we lies. 
 
 Is verra green an' foft. 
 
7 
 
 
 ^atrt ^econti. 
 
 A W'S the reed rofe on Sharon that blaws ; 
 
 
 Aw's a lily as white as the fnaws ; 
 
 
 Aw's the lily 'mang thorns, 
 
 
 Tiv maw true-luve aw turns; 
 
 For 
 
 te like him aw've el ways hed cawfe. 
 
 As 
 
 the apple-tree's beft in maw feet; 
 
 Se 1 
 
 le marrow maw luver can beat ; 
 
 
 Aw fat doon on the grund 
 
 
 Where his fhador was fund, 
 
 An' 
 
 aw teyfted his apples fe fweet ! 
 
 Tiv 
 
 his hoofe an' his feaft aw wes ta'en ; 
 
 An' 
 
 his luve-flag wes fpreed oot ageyn ; 
 
 
 Gi'e me drink, for aw's dry ! 
 
 
 Fetch us apples o' joy ! 
 
 For 
 
 wi' luve aw's fair feek wiv its pain 1 
 
Solo7noris Sang. 
 
 His left hand lies under maw heed. 
 An' he cuddles me clofe wiv his reet ! 
 
 Be the bucks an' the does 
 
 Let maw fweetheart repofe ! 
 Salem-lafTes, ftep foft wi' yor feet ! 
 
 Maw luve's like a doe or young buck, 
 He flops 'hint a bratifh to leuk ! 
 
 Paft wor windor he keeks, 
 
 For it's me that he feeks ; 
 Noo clofe to the ftainchels he's (luck! 
 
 O, wheeft ! for aw hears maw luve fay, 
 ." Get up, bonny lafs ! Come away ! 
 
 For the winter is geyn ; 
 
 Paft an' deun is the rain, 
 An' the grund wi' fweet pofies leuks gay ! 
 
 " Noo's the time for the fma' burds to fing. 
 An' the coo-cooin' pidgin aw hear ! 
 Ther's green fegs on the tree. 
 An' young grapes thoo may fee ; 
 Get up! Come away, hinny dear!" 
 
 O maw duve ! i' the rocks thoo abides ; 
 r the fteps o' the fteyns thoo mun be ; 
 
Pairt Second. 
 
 Let me leuk on thaw cheek ! 
 Let me yence hear thee fpeak. 
 For thaw voice is fair mufic to me ! 
 
 Trap thor foxes ! the little yens watch ! 
 
 For they fmafh a' the grapes they can catch ; 
 
 Let neyn o' them 'fcape, ' 
 
 Els' we'll not ha'e yen grape; 
 An' they're tender, — them grapes i' wor patch! 
 
 Aw's maw luve's, an' maw luver is mines ; 
 'Mang the lilies he feeds a' the day ! 
 
 An' tiv neet-cloods a' flee. 
 
 An' the mornin' aw fee, 
 Frev maw feyce thoo mun ne'er turn away ; 
 
 Thoo thaw leiflinefs can fhow. 
 
 Like a young buck an' doe, 
 When on moontins o' Bether they play ! 
 
^W weykent on maw bed at neet, 
 
 To find maw luve aw tried ; 
 Aw fowt him, but aw fand him oot — 
 
 He wafent biv me fide ! 
 Aw'U noo get up — the toon aw '11 fearch. 
 
 An' prowl aboot the ftreets ; 
 Aw '11 feek him i' the pleyces wide. 
 
 An' ax a' folk aw meets. 
 
 Aw fowt him that maw fowl luves weel. 
 
 But he was oot o' feet ; 
 The watchmen-cheps, that fhoot the clock, 
 
 Cam' te me wiv a leet : 
 Says aw te them, " Surs, ha'e ye feed 
 
 Maw true-luve as ye paft ?" 
 When, juft a wee -bit efter this. 
 
 Maw cumley cam' et lafl: ! 
 
Pairt Thurd. 1 1 
 
 Aw catcht him quick, an' hadded him, — 
 
 Aw wadent let him gan ; 
 Tiv reet infide maw mother's hoofe 
 
 Aw browt maw darlin' man : 
 For te maw mother's fleeping-pleyce. 
 
 To 'tice him wes me plan I 
 
 Noo, Salem-laffes, haud your wheeft ! 
 
 For, by the bucks an' roes. 
 Ye fhanet ftop maw luver's fleep. 
 
 Till he hes teyn his doze ! 
 
 Whe's yon, that's cumin' frae the moor, 
 Like fome lang chimley's fmoke, 
 
 Wiv poothers, rofels, burnin' faents, , 
 Frev greet fhopkeeper-folk ? 
 
 Leuk at his bed ! that's Solomon's ! 
 
 Sic like wes ne'er afore ! 
 Wiv big jew-fowlgers roond aboot, 
 
 Aw's warn'd ye, fair threefcore ! 
 
 They awl hae fwurds ! tho're cliver cheps. 
 
 An' verra bad te beat ; 
 Upon thor theeghs thor fwurds they weer. 
 
 For dreed o' theeves et neet. 
 
1 2 Solomon's Sang. 
 
 A coach the king hifTel hes meyd, 
 
 Wiv woods frae Lebenon ; 
 The ftainchels folld filler fine, 
 
 The king hiflel pat on. 
 
 Nowt but fair goold the bottom pairt. 
 
 The top was porple, tee ; 
 For luve the middle peyv'd fe fine, 
 
 For Salem-lafies free. 
 How ! Zion's dowters, a' turn oot ! 
 
 King Solomon is here ! 
 Leuk at his bonny goolden croon. 
 
 His mother meyd him weer, 
 r the day when he wes newly wed, 
 
 When nowt he had to fear ! 
 
T UCKA ! maw luve, but thoo is fair ! 
 
 Aye, verra fair thoo iz, begox ! 
 There's pidgins' peepers in thaw hair; 
 Thaw hair's Hke billy-goats in flocks, 
 That on moont Gilyid lowp an' flare. 
 Thaw teeth's like fheep's, a' evin fet. 
 That frev the tubs come dreepin' wet ; 
 Like yowes that bonny twinnies bear. 
 For neyn's wivoot her marrows there. 
 Thaw lips, like threeds o' fcarlet, meet. 
 An' O ! thaw fpeakin' foon's fe fweet ! 
 Thaw temples, like twe apples, fhine 
 Aneath thor cumley curls o' thine. 
 Thaw neck is like King Deyvie's toor, 
 Beelt up to had {leel-airmor fhure ; 
 A thoofan' targits there te hing, 
 For mighty cheps te fence thor king. 
 
14 Solomon's Sang. 
 
 Like twe young twinny roes, thaw breefts. 
 
 That 'mang the fnaw- white lilies feafts. 
 
 Noo, tiv the breakin o' the day, 
 
 An' a' the mirk-cloods flee away ; 
 
 Aw '11 te the hill o' marr retreat, 
 
 An' flop amang the infenfe fweet; 
 
 For thoo is fair, maw bonny luve, 
 
 Ne fpot is fand i' thee, maw duve ! 
 
 Come wi' me here frae Lebenon, 
 
 Maw cumley wife, wi' me, come on ! 
 
 Leuk frev Amana's pofy top ; 
 
 Frae Shenir an' frae Hermon's hill ; 
 
 Frae where the roarin' lions flop. 
 
 An' where the leppards' lyin' flill. 
 
 Maw heart's fair ravifht, fifler — wife! 
 It's a' thaw een an' thaw neck's-cheyn ; 
 Maw heart's fair ravifht ; an' maw life 
 Biv luvin' thee, is fairly geyn ! 
 Fair is thaw luve, maw fifler dear. 
 
 Better thaw luve's nor wine; 
 Thaw ointmin' fmells far better here. 
 
 Nor a' fweet fpices fine. 
 
 Thaw lips, maw wife, wiv honey drops ; 
 Thaw tongue's where milk an' honey flops; 
 
Pairt Power. 15 
 
 An' then thaw claes is fmellin' ftlll 
 Iv Lebenon's flooer-faented hill ! 
 Maw filler's like a gardin fair, 
 Inclof'd, that neyn may gan in there ; 
 Maw luve's a fpring fiiut up frae feet,— 
 A well, fealed, like a letter, reet. 
 Thaw plants where apple-gardins fhows 
 
 Thor froots fe ripe te eat ; 
 Where camfor an' the fpike-oil grows. 
 
 An' a' things fmellin' fweet. 
 
 White kalymus, reed finnymin. 
 
 An' yaller faffrin-trees ; 
 Wiv infenfe, marr, an' allowes. 
 
 An' fpices fyke as pleafe. 
 A foont o' gardins — leevin' wells — 
 Where Lebenon teems oot her fmells. 
 
 " Get up, ye breezes frae the north ! 
 An' thoo, footh wind, blaw canny forth 
 Abeun maw gardin fheyk thaw wings. 
 That fmells may oppin a' thor fprings ; 
 Then maw true-luve an' me 'ill meet. 
 His gardin's pleefan' froots te eat!" 
 
^airt Jpibe. 
 
 npIV maw gardin, maw fifter, aw've come; 
 Aw've raked up the marr an' the fplce ; 
 
 Honey-blobs aw ha'e llckt frae me thumb, 
 An' aw've fuppt a' the milk an' wine nice. 
 Maw freen's, come, eat an' drink wi' me. 
 Drink, maw true love ; drink plenty, tee ! 
 
 Aw fleeps, but maw heart's on the muve. 
 An' the cawl o' me luver aw hear ; 
 
 He fays, " Oppin, maw fifter, maw luve ! 
 Maw unfpeckled duve, an' maw dear ! 
 
 Maw heed wi' dew is fairly weet, 
 
 Weftit biv the rainin' o' the neet. 
 
 " Aw hae pat off the coat frae me back ; 
 
 Hoo ageyn can aw put me coat on ? 
 Aw ha'e wefht baith maw feet frae the black. 
 
 An' aw'll clag them wi' muck ef aw run!" 
 
Pairt Five. 
 
 Maw luve then pat his neef infide 
 The hole what's i' wor dooer ; 
 
 Hoo cud aw lie, an' langer bide ? 
 Aw let him for fliure ! 
 
 Tiv maw true-luve aw oppint the dooer. 
 An' maw han's wes a' cover'd wi' fmell ; 
 
 Biv marr wes maw fingurs fpreed ower. 
 That in drops on the lock-hanels fell. 
 
 Tiv maw luve aw the dooer oppint wide. 
 But maw fweetheart wes vanifht an' geyn ; 
 
 Hoo aw trimmelt wheniver he figh'd. 
 But maw luver had left me aleyn. 
 
 Aw tried te find him but aw fail'd. 
 Nor did he anfur when aw hail'd. 
 
 Biv the watchmen that fhoot the toon roond. 
 Aw wes fand, an' they treeted me fair ; 
 
 For they ga'e me a verra bad woond, 
 An' they rove oot the curls o' maw hair. 
 Maw veil wes pull'd clean frae me feyce, 
 Biv the watchmen-rips aboot the pleyce. 
 
 17 
 
O ye lafTes o' Salem, teyk heed. 
 
 An' mind, ef maw fweetheart ye fee. 
 That ye tell him aw's verra nigh deed, 
 
 An' to hurry, thereckleys, te me ! 
 " O woman, that's fair 'mang the fair, 
 
 What's thaw luver owt mair nor the reft? 
 For thaw fweetheart what cawl need we care 
 
 Ony mair nor the lads we like beft?" 
 
 Maw luver is white an' he's reed, 
 
 Mang ten thoofan' he's chief o' them a'! 
 Like the fineft o' goold is his heed. 
 
 An' his hair is as black as a craw. 
 His een like the cufhat's appears. 
 
 When biv wetters ther' bonnily fet ; 
 For ther' wefht biv the foft milky tears. 
 
 An' they fhine like coal-di'mins o' jet. 
 
 Like twe beds o' fine fpices, his cheeks. 
 
 Or the flooers i' wor gardins they are ; 
 His lips is like lilies that fpeaks, 
 
 Droppin' fweet fmellin' ointmin' an' marr. 
 Goold rings fet wi' di'mins that fhines. 
 
 His ban's elways feems te maw feet; 
 Ow'r his belly, like ivory, twines 
 
 The glifterin' blue fteyns complete. 
 
Pairt Five. ig 
 
 Like twe pillars o' white marvel, (^t 
 
 On thor' fockits o' goold, is his knees ; 
 An' the feyce o' maw beautiful pet 
 
 Is as cumley as Lebenon's trees. 
 O fweet, verra fweet is his mooth ! 
 
 A'thegither he luvefome appears ; 
 Noo, this is maw luve, in a' trooth. 
 
 An' maw freend, O Jerufalem dears! 
 
" O WHERE hes thaw true luver geyn, 
 Faireft 'mang wimmen-folk, fpeak ? 
 What for hes he left thee aleyn ? 
 
 O come, an' thaw lad let us feek ! " 
 
 Maw luve hes to the gardins geyn, 
 
 An' tiv the fpice-beds there ; 
 Upon his froots te feaft aleyn, 
 
 An' gether lilies fair. 
 Aw's maw beluv'd's, an' maw luve's mine: 
 
 He's on the lilies geyn to dine ! 
 
 Thoo's beautiful, maw luve, maw gem! 
 
 As cumley as Jerufalem ; 
 
 Yet torrible as fowlgers are. 
 
 When they wiv colors mairch te war. 
 
Pairt Sixf. 
 
 21 
 
 O turn away frae me them een. 
 For they maw doonfa' fhure ha'e been ! 
 Thaw hair is like iv goats a flock, 
 That wanders doon biv Gilyid's rock. 
 Thaw teeth, like flieep's a' evin fet. 
 That come frev wefh-tubs dreepin wet ; 
 Like yowes that elways twinnies bear, 
 For neyn's wivoot her lammies there. 
 Thaw temples, like ripe apples, fhine 
 Aneath thor bonny curls o' thine ! 
 There's threefcore queens — kep'-miffes tee, 
 An' lots o' vergins a' for me ! 
 
 Maw duve ! maw fpecklefs duve, is geyn, 
 
 Her mammy bore but her aleyn ! 
 
 Her pet fhe is, 'beun a' the refl. 
 
 The choos'd yen iv her mother's breeft. 
 
 Queens praifes her, tee, heartily, 
 
 An' the kep'-lafTes likes her, tee. 
 
 " Whe's fhe that keeks at morn fe fuen, 
 Fairer an' bonnier than the meun. 
 An' clearer then the day at neun ? 
 Whe's bowlder then the fowlgers far. 
 When they wiv colors gan to war? 
 
22 Solomon! s Sang. 
 
 Tiv the gardin o' nuts off aw howed, 
 The froots o' the valley te fee, 
 
 An' te find ef the grapes bonny grow'd. 
 An' te leuk et the apple-buds, tee. 
 
 But afore aw cud hardlys approach. 
 Maw fowl was like 'Minadib's coach ! 
 
 O Shulamite, turn back to me ! 
 
 Howay, an' meyk welcome maw feet ! 
 In the Shulamite what can ye fee, 
 
 But twe redgmin's in battle that meet ? 
 
'^HAW feet wiv fhoen maw een weel pleafe, 
 
 O prince's dowter fair ! 
 Like jools upon thaw jointed theeghs. 
 
 The wark o' gooldfmlths rare. 
 Thaw neyvil's like a tumler roond, 
 
 That licker difent need ; 
 Like a wheat-ihef biv lilies bund, 
 
 Thaw belly leuks, indeed ! 
 Like twe young rabbits o' yen fize, 
 Thaw bonny breefts is feed te rife. 
 
 Yen ivory pillar is thaw neck ; 
 
 Thaw een's like puils o' fifhes ; 
 Iv Hefhbin, 'fide Bathrabbin's fneck, 
 Where luve fees what he wifhes. 
 Thaw nofe, a toowr o' Lebenon, 
 That te Damafcus feyces on. 
 
24 Solomon's Sang. 
 
 Like Carmel is that heed o' hairs, — ■ 
 Like logwood-dye, thaw hair; 
 
 An' i' the gall'ries up the flairs. 
 The king is faftin'd there ! 
 
 But thoo is bonny in maw feet ; 
 
 O luve ! for fome chance, happy neet ! 
 
 Like tiv fome pam-tree is thaw fliapes ; 
 Thaw breefts like clufters o' ripe grapes. 
 Says aw. This pam-tree aw mun fee. 
 An' iv its branches get haud, tee ! 
 Thaw breefts fall be like cluiVrin' vines, 
 An' thaw nofe fmell iv apples, mines ! 
 Like the beft wine for maw true-luve, 
 
 Thaw gob's reed roof fall be ; 
 The wine that fweet is feed to muve, 
 
 Meyks fleepin' lips talk free. 
 Aw's maw beluv'd's, an' he is mine's ; 
 An* tiv me fair his wifh inclines. 
 
 Come, maw true luve, an' oot we'll gang. 
 Far ower the fields we'll rove; 
 
 We'll lodge the country folk amang. 
 An' a' the'r kinenefs prove. 
 
Pairt Srcinf. 
 
 Let's i' the grape-yards airly be, 
 
 An' watch the growin' vine ; 
 The little grapes we'll, mevies, fee. 
 
 An' a' the apples fine. 
 An' es we roond the gardins rove, 
 
 Aw '11 gi'e thee a' aw can o' luve 1 
 
 A fineifh fmell the man-root gies. 
 
 An' et wor gardin-gates, 
 A' forts o' froots is on the trees, 
 
 Baith new and withert waits : 
 Sic things as thor aw hae for thee. 
 Then come, maw fweetheart, walk, wi' me ! 
 
 25 
 
^aut tj^e Hast. 
 
 Q EF maw brother thoo cud be, 
 
 That fookt maw mother's milk, like me ! 
 Then, ef aw catcht thee walkin' oot, 
 Aw feun wad kifs thee, ther's ne doot. 
 An' neyn dorft ca' me ower free. 
 Aw then cud teyk thee by the hand. 
 
 An' lead thee tiv wor heym ; 
 Maw mother then wad un'eriland. 
 
 An' thoo needs thhik ne fheym. 
 Then drink fhe'd brew thee, rare an' fine. 
 An' pepper het thaw apple-wine. 
 His reet-hand 'neath maw heed he'd pleyce. 
 An' wiv his left maw fides imbrace. 
 O Salem-lafi'es, teyk ye care. 
 
 That ye a' quiet keep ; 
 And divent roofe maw fweetheart, where. 
 
 Or when, he likes to fleep. 
 
Pairt the Laji. 27 
 
 Whe's yon that frae the moor is feen 
 Upon his luver's airm to lean ? 
 When thoo laid 'neath the apple-tree, 
 Whe raift thee up, but oney me ? 
 Thaw mother there iv trubble lay. 
 There furft thoo feed the leet o' day. 
 Upon thaw airm an' on thaw heart, 
 Let me maw neym an' ftamp impart ; 
 
 For luve es deeth is ftrang ! 
 Crule es the grave is jelify ; 
 Ne better coals o' fire can be. 
 
 That meyk the bleezes thrang ! 
 Greet rivers may come poorin' doon, 
 But luve ne fluds can iver droon ; 
 An' ef a chep gies a' he awns, 
 His kelter, hoofes, an' his lan's, 
 Juft for to buy true luve's return. 
 His brafs, his hoofe, an' lands, wad burn. 
 
 We ha'e a fifter, but fhe's fma', 
 Poor thing ! fhe hes ne breefts at a' ! 
 For this bit lafs hoo mun we ftur. 
 When fweethearts cum a-coortin' hur ? 
 Cawl her a wa' ! on her cud ftand 
 A filler pallis greet an' grand ! 
 
28 Solomon's Sang. 
 
 Cawl her a door ! fhut up fhe'll be, 
 Wiv boards faw'd frae the pencil-tree ! 
 Noo, aw's a wa' ! maw breefts is feen, 
 Like hills, an' pleafe maw luver's een ! 
 
 Et Ba-alhamon, Solomon 
 
 His grape-yards let biv leefe ; 
 The keepers paid, for grapes hung on, 
 
 A thoofan' coins a peece ! 
 Afore me lies maw grape-yards there, 
 Sol'mon ! a thoofan' is thaw fhare ; 
 Tiv them that keeps the grapes that grow, 
 Twe hun'erd aw wad fair allow. 
 
 O thoo, that hes a gardin-heym. 
 Thaw marrows hears thaw voice ! 
 
 Juft let me lifTen to the feym. 
 An' then we'll a' rejoice ! 
 
 Maw luve, luik fharp ! lowp up, an' fhow 
 The ftile that pleafes fteg an' doe. 
 When they feud quick, wiv capers nice, 
 Alang the bonny hills o' fpice ! 
 
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