BHHE A A o o 1 4 1 I • I 7 7] UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY >• .-" \s t 33H- THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES RjFS^&^IfJPIE CE a l< M„,/.„,:v rcutt, ^-/■wheu/c/fnrfi //<>/< /i a ^Ja/j ,a,ns /-/e/jst otor /r/y/cr ,/ ^. ■■■/,/>/ ll,hluHdh> H Hcilhsrtrn W, BY F. JOLLIE AND SONS, CARLISLE. 180S. s . . _ * dtft&L . fat/ sf^U- s/t^S <^ X^xfL, ~Al faf/fat- YcMjfrrif C* *t-f-++S foot*****, rf M-l /i***tl*T*f <&&&%*■ <07ia*t7i+f"* /ft/ /, S/i (W bleam'd. varra mick'e ; Nought's seafe out o' dtiirs now-a-days, Frae a millstone e'en down to a sickle; The clock it streykes ei^ht, I mun heame, Or 1*8 git a deuce of a f rat chin ; When neist we've a few hours to spare, We'll fin out what mischief's a hatchin. July 5, 1807. ^^^^ BALLAD IV. THE WORTON WEDDING. TUNE, — " Dainty Darf\ O, sec a weddin I've been at* ! De'il bin, what cap'rin, feghtin, vap'rin f ! Priest and cle;k, and aw gat drunk — Rare deins there war there : * Sec Note VI. f See Note VII. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 11 The Thuirsby lads they fit the best ; The JVorton weavers drank the meast ; But Broitgh-seyde lairds bang'd aw the rest, For braggin o' their gear, And s>iugin, — Whurry whurn, whuddle whnin, Whulty, whalty, wha, wha, wha, And derry dum, diddle dum, Derry eyden dee. Furst helter skelter frae the kurk ; Some off like fire, thro' dub and mire: * Deil lek the hindmost !' Mere' lad cries — Suin head owre heels he flew : * God speed ye weel,' the priest rwoar'd out, ' Or neet we's ha'e a hearty bout' — Peer Meer' lad gat a bleaken'd snout — He'd mickle. cause to rue — It spoil'd his — Whurry whum, &c. When on the teable furst they set The butter'd sops, sec greasy chops, 'Tween lug and laggen ! Oh what fun, To see them giro and eat ! Then lisping Isbel talk'd sae feyne, 'Twas ' vathly thockin* thuth to dine; * Theck griveth f wark, to eat like thweyne* !' It made her sick to see't ; Then we sung — Whurry whum, &c. * Vastly shocking. f Such grievous. J Swine. 12 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. Neist stut'rin Cursty up he ruse, Wi' a-a-a, and ba-ba-ba ; He'd kiss Jen Jakes, for aw lang seyne, A. id fearfu' wark meade he; But Cursty, souple gammerstang Ned YVulson brong his lug a whang; Thin owre he flew, the peets amang, And grean'd as he wad dee; But some sang — Whurry whum, &c. Aunt Ester snoil'd the gurdle ceakes, The speyce left out, was wrang, nae doubt ; Tim Trximmel tu.k nine cups o' tea, And fairly capp'd them aw: The kiss went roun ; but Sally Slee, When Trummel cleek'd her on his knee, She dunch'd and punch'd, cried ' fuil, let be'' Then strack him owre the jaw, And we sang — Whurry whum, &c. Far maist I leugh at Grizzy Brown, Frae Lunnon town she'd just come down, In furbelows, and feyue siik gown, Oh, man, but she was crouse ! Wi' Dick the footman she wad dance, And ' wonder' d people could so prance;' Then curtchey'd as they dui in France, And pautet like a geuse, While aw sang — Whurry whum, &c. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 13 Young sour-milk Sawney, on the stuil, A whornpeype danc'd, and keav'dand pranc'd; He slipp'd, and brak his left-leg shin, Aud hirpl'd suiv about : Then cocker Wully lap bawk heet, And in his clogs top teyme did beat ; But Tamer, in her stockin feet, She bang'd him out and out, And lilted — Whurry whum, &c. Now aw began to talk at yence, O' naigs and kye, and wots and rye, And laugh'd and jwok'd, and cough'd and smuik'd, And meade a fearfu' reek ; The furm it brak, and down they fell, Lang Isaac leam'd auld grandy Bell ; They up, and drank het sugar'd yell, Till monie cud'nt speak. But some sang — Whurry whum, &c. The breyde she kest up her accounts In Rachel' lap, then pou'd her cap; The parson' wig- staid aw ajy ; The dark sang Andrew Car; Blin Staig, the fiddler, gat a whack, The bacon fleek fell on his back, And n^ist his fiddle-stick they brak, 'Twas weel it was nee war, For he sang — Whurry whum, £ie. 14 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. Now on the midden some were laid, Aw havey, scavey, and kelavey : The clogger and the teaylear fit, Peer Snip gat twee black een ; Dick Wawby he began the fray, But Jemmy Moffet ran away, And crap owre head amang the hay, Fwok say nit varra clean ; Then they sang — Whurry whum, &c. Neist Windy Wull o' Wample seydV, He bang'd them aw, beath girt and smaw; He flang them east, he flang them west, And bluidy pates they gat ; To him they war but caff and san; He split the teable wi' his han, But in the dust wi' dancin Dan, They brunt his Sunday hat; Then aw sang — Whurry whum, &c. The breyde now thowt it time for bed ; Her stockin doff'd and flang 't quite soft — It hat Bess Bleane— -Wull Webster blush'd, And luik'd anudder way ; The lads down frae the loft did steal ; The parish howdy, Greacy Peel, She happ'd her up, aw wish'd her wee], Then whop'd to meet neist day, And sing her — Whurry whum, &c. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 15 The best on't was, the parson swore His wig was lost, a crown it cost, He belsh'd and heccupp'd in and out, And said it wasn't fair: Now day-leet it began to peep, The breydegruim off to bed did creep, I trow he waddu't mickle sleep, But, whisht ! — I'll say nee mair, iNobbet sing — Whurry whum, &c. July 10, 1802. ft&lftiUfr- BALLAD V. SALLY GRAY. Tune, — " The mucking o' Gwordie's lyre" COME, Deavie, I'll tell thee a secret, But tou mun lock't up i' thee breast, I wadden't for aw Dalston parish, It com to the ears of the rest; Now I'll hod tee a bit of a weager, A groat to thy tnppens I'll lay, Ten cannot guess whee I's in luive wi', And nobbet keep off Salty Gnu/. 16 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. There's Cumwhitton, Cumwhinton, Cumranton, Cumrangen, Cumrew, and Cumcatch, And monny mair cum's i' the county, But nin wi' Cumdivock can match ; It's sae neyce to luik owre the black pasture, The fells abuin aw, faraway — There is nee sec pleace, nit in England, For there lives the sweet Sally Gray. I was sebenteen last Collop-Monday *, And she's just the verra searne yage ; For ae kiss o' the sweet lips o' Sally, I'd freely give up a year's wage ; For in lang winter neets when she's spinnin, And singin about Jemmy Gay, I keek by the hay-stack, and lissen, For fain wad I see Sally Gray. Had ton seen her at knrk, man, last Sunday f, Tou cou'dn't ha'e thought o' the text ; But she sat neist to Tom o' the Lonnin, Tou may think that meade me quite vext ; Then I pass'd her gawu owre the lang meedow, Says I, ' Here's a canny wet day !' I wad lia'e said mair, but how cou'd e, When luikin at sweet Sally Gray ! * Note VIII. f Note IX CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 17 I caw'd to sup cruds wi' Dick Miller, And hear aw his cracks and his jwokes, The dumb wife was tellin their fortunes*, What ! I mud be like other fwokes : Wi' chalk on a pair of auld bellows, Twee letters she meade in her way, S means Sally the wide warl owre, And G stands for nought else but Gray. O was I but lword o' the manor, A nabob, or parliment man, What thousands on thousands I'd gi' her, Wad she nobbet gi' me her han ! A cwoach and six horses I'd buy her, And gar fwok stan out o' the way, Then I'd lowp up behint like a footman — Oh ! the warl for my sweet Sally Gray. They may brag o' their feyne Carel lasses, Their feathers, their durtment, and leao God help them ! peer deeth-luikin bodies, Widout a bit reed o' their feace 1 But Sally's just like allyblaster, Her cheeks are twee rwose-buds in May — O lad ! I cou'd sit here for ever, And talk about sweet Sally Gray. July 24, 18 * Sue Note X. B 18 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. BALLAD VI. WILL AND KATE. Tune, — " John Anderson my jo.' NOW, Kate, full forty years ha'e flown*, Sin we met on the green ; Frae that to this the saut, saut tear Has oft stuid i' my een : For when the bairns were some peet-heet, Tou kens I leam'd my knee — Lai toddlen things, in want o'bread — O that went hard wi' me ! Then tou wad cry, ' Come, Wully, lad, ' Keep up thy heart — ne'er fear ! * Our bits o' bairns '11 scrafHe up, ' Sae dry that swerry tear; * There's Matthew's be an alderman ; ' A bishop we'll mak Guy ; * Lai Ned sal be a clogger ; * Dick sal work for tee and I.' * See Note XI. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 19 Then when our crops were spoil'd wi' rain, Sir Jwohn mud hev his rent; What cud we de ? nee geer had we— Sae I to jail was sent. 'Twas hard to starve i' sec a pleace, Widout a frien to trust ; But when I thought o' thee and bairns, My heart was like to brust. Neist, Etty GOD was pleas'd to tek 4 What then, we'd seeven still ; But whee kens what may happen — suin The smaw-pox did for Bill : I think I see his slee-black een, Then he wad chirm and talk, And say, Ded, ded ; Mam, mam, and aw, Lang, lang ere he cud walk. At Carel, when, for six pound ten, I selt twee Scotty kye, They pick'd my pocket i' the thrang, And de'il a plack had I ; * Ne'er ack !' says tou, ' we'll work for raair,' 4 It's time eneugh to fret; • A pun o' sorrow wunnet pay ' Ae single ounce o' debt.' B2 20 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. Now, todlen down the hill o' leyfe, Auld yage has brought content; And, God be thank'd our bairns are up, And pay Sir Jwohn his rent : When, seyde by seyde aw day we sit, I often think and grieve, It's hard that deeth sud part auld fwok, When happy then can live. July 29> 1802. BALLAD VII. THE IMPATIENT LASSIE*. Tune, — " Low down in the broom. DEUCE tek the clock, click-clackin sae, Still in a body's ear; It tells and tells the time is past, When Jwohnie sud been here : Deuce tek the wheel, 'twill nit rin roun — Nae mair to-neet I'll spin, But count each minute wi' a seegh, Till Jwohnie he steels in. * See Note XII. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 2J How neyce the spunky fire it burns,' For twee to sit beseyde ! And there's the seat where Jwohnie sits, And I forget to cheyde ! My fadder, tui, how sweet he snwores ! My mudder fast asleep : He promis'd oft; but, oh ! I fear His word he wunnet keep ! What can it be keeps him frae me ? The ways are nit sae lang, And sleet and snaw are nought at aw, If yen were fain to gang ! Some ither lass, wi' bonnier feace, Has catch'd his wicked e'e, And I'll be pointed at at kurk — Nay ! suiner let me dee ! O durst we lasses nobbet gang* And sweetheart them we leyke, I'd rin to thee, my Jwohnie lad, Nor stop at bog or deyke : But custom's sec a silly thing, For men muii hae their way, And monnie a bonny lassy sit, And wish frae day to day. Sec Not*: XIII. L 2t CUMBRIAN BALLADS. But whisht ! I hear my Jwohnie's fit- Aye ! that's his varra clog ! He steeks the faul yeat softly tui— G hang that cwoley dog ! Now, hey for seeghs and sugar words, Wi' kisses nit a few — O but this warl's a paradise, When lovers they pruive true ! July 31, 1802. BALLAD VIII. THE BUNDLE OF ODDITIES. Tune, — " Fie let us a 1 to the bridal!" SIT down, and I'll count owre my sweetheart^ For faith a brave number I've had, Sin I furst went to schuil wi' Dick Railton, But Dick's in his greave, honest lad ! I mind, when he cross'd the deep watter, To get me the shtlapple' est, How he fell owrehead, and I skirl'd sae, Then off we ran heame, sair distrest. * See Note XIV. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 2$ Then there was a bit of a teaylear, That work'd at our house a heale week; He was sheap'd aw the warl like a trippet, But niver a word durst he speak ; I just think I see how he squinted At me, when we sat down to meat ; Owre went his het keale on his blue breeks, And de'il a bit Snippy cud eat. At parti n he poud up his spirits, Says he, * Tou hes bodder'd my head, * And it sheks yen to rags and to tatters, ' To sew wi' a lang double thread :' Then, in meakin a cwot for my fadder, (How luive dis the senses deceive) Forby usin marrowless buttons, To th' pocket-whol he stitch'd a sleeve*. The neist was a VVhaker, caw'd Jacob, He turn'd up the wheyte o' his een, And talk'd about flesh and the spirit — Thowt I, what can Gravity mean i In dark winter neeghts, i' the lonnins, He'd weade thro' the durt 'buin his knee. It cuil'd his het heart, silly gander ! And there let him stowter for me. *See Note XV. 24 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. A lang ,blue-lipt chap, like a guide-pwost, (Lord help us and keep us frae harm !) Neist talk'd about car-gear and middens, And the reet way to manage a farm ; 'Twas last Leady Fair* I leet on him, He grumbled and spent hawf-a-crown — God bless him ! hed he gowd i' gowpens, I wadn't ha'e hed sec a clown. But, stop ! there was lal wee deef Dicky, Wad dance for a heale winter neet, And at me aw the time wad keep glowrin : Peer man, he was nobbet hawf reet ! He grew jealous 6' reed-headed Ellek, Wi' a feace like a full harvest muin ; Sae they fit till they just gat eneugh on't, And I laugh'd at beath when 'twas duin. There's anudder worth aw put together, I cud, if I wad, tell his neame ; He gangs past our house to the market, And monie a time he's set me heame. O wad he but ax me this question, * Will tou be my partner for life ?* I'd answer widout ony blushes, And aye try to mek a guid wife. August 1, 1802. * See Note XVI. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 25 BALLAD IX. LUCKLESS JONATHAN. Tune, — " Erin go bragk." O HEALE be thy heart! my peer merry auld eronie, And never may trouble draw tears frae thy e'e ; It's reet, when he can, man sud rise abuin sorrow, For pity's nit common to peer fwok like me. When I think how we lap about mountain and mee- dow, Like larks in a mwornin, a young happy pair, Then I luik at mysel, and I see but a shadow, That's suffer'd sae mickle, it cannot beyde mair. Tou minds, when I buried my honest auld fadder, O how cud I ever get owre that sad day ! — His last words were, ' Jonathan, luik to thy mudder, ■ And God '11 reward thee :' — nae mair cud he say. My mudder she stuid, and she fain wad ha'e spoken, But tears wadn't let her — O man, it was hard ! — She tuik till her bed, and just thurtcen weeks efter, Was laid down ayont him in Aikton kurk-yard. My friend, Jemmy Gunston, went owre seas to Indie, For me, his auld comrade, a venture he'd tak ; I'd scrap'd up a lock money — he gat it — but leately Peer Jemmy was puzzen'd, they say, by a black : 26 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 'Twas nit for my money I fretted, but Jemmy, I'll ne'er forget him, as lang as I've breath ; He said, ' Don't cry, mudder ! I'll mek you a leady I' But sairy auld Tamer ! 'twill e'en be her death. To mek bad far war, then I courted lal Matty, Her bonnie blue een, how they shot to my heart ! The neet niver com but 1 went owre to see her, And when the clock struck we were sworry to part : An aunt ayont Banton a canny house left her, (What but health and contentment can money nit buy?) Wi' laird Hodgson o' Burgh* offshe canter'd to Gretna, The varra seame mworn we our fortune sud try. 'Twas nobbet last Cursmas I fain wad be murry, Sae caw'd in Dick Toppin, Tom Clarke, and Jwohn Howe; We sung, and we crack'd, but lal thowt ere neist mwornin, That aw our heale onset wad be in a lowe ; They gat me poud out, and reet weel I remember, I stamp'd, ay, like mad, when the sad seet I saw, For that was the pleace my grandfadder was bworniuf, Forbye my twee uncles, rny ladder and aw. * See Note XVII. f See Note XVIII. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 27 Now, widout owther fadder, or mudder, or sweetheart, A friend, or a shelter to cover my head, I mazle and wander, nor ken what I's dein, And wad, (if I nobbet durst), wish I were dead. O lieale be thy heart ! my peer merry auld cronie, And niver may trouble draw tears frae thy e'e; It's reet, when he can, man sud rise abuin sorrow, For pity's nit common to peer fwok like me. August 1, 1802. ^^^^\@\^,&-^ BALLAD X. DICK WAITERS. Tune, — " Crowdy." O, Jenny! Jenny! where's tou been? Thy fadder is just mad at tee ; He seed somebody i' the croft, And gulders as he'd worry me. O monie are a mudder's whopes, And monie are a mudder's fears, And monie a bitter, bitter pang, Beath suin and late her bosom tears ! 28 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. We brong thee up, pat thee to schuil, And clead thee weel as peer fwok can ; We larn'd thee beath to dance and read, But now tou's crazy for a man. O, monie, &c. When tou was young, and at my knee, I dwoated on thee, day and neet ; But now tou's rakin, rakin still, And niver, niver i' thy seet. O, monie, &e. Tou's proud, and past aw guid adveyce — Yen mud as weel speak till a stean; Still, still thy awn way, reet or wrang — Mess, but tou'll rue't when I am geane ! O, monie, &e. Dick Watters, I ha'e telt thee oft, Ne'er means to be a son o' mine; He seeks thy ruin sure as deeth, Then like Bet Baxter tou may whine. O, monie, &c. Thy fadder's comin frae the croft, A bonny hunsup faith he'll niek ; Put on thy clogs and auld blue brat — Heaste, Jenny, heaste ! he lifts the sneck ! August % 1802. O, monie, &c. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. $9 BALLAD XL THE LASS ABUIN THIRTY. Tune, — " Jocktfs grey breeh. I'VE wonder' d sin I kent mysel, What keeps the men fwok aw frae me ; I's as guid-like as cousin Tib, And she can ha'e her choice o' three ; For me, still moilin by mysel, Life's just a bitter widout sweets; The simmer brings nae pleasant days, And winter tires wi' lang, lang neets. I had some whopes o' Wully yence, And Wully was the only yen ; I dreamt and dreamt about him lang, But whopes and Wully aw are geane : A kiss he'd hev, L gevhim twee, Reeght weel I mind amang the hay ; Neist time we met, he glump'd and gloom'd, And turn'd his head unither way, 30 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. A feyne pink sash my uncle sent Frae Lunnon yence ; about my waist, I wore't and wore't, but de'il a lad At me or sash a luik e'er east : My yellow gown I thought was sure To catch some yen at Carel Fair, But, oh fareweel to gown and sash, I'll niver, niver wear them mair ! The throssle, when cauld winter's geane, Aye in our worchet welcomes spring ;*— It mun be luive, did we but ken, Gars him aroun his partner sing. The cock and hen, the duck and drake, Nay e'en the smawest birds that flee, Ilk thing that lives can get a mate, Except sec sworry things as me. I often think how married fwok Mun lead a sweet and happy life; The prattlin bairns rin toddlin roun, And tie the husband to the wife : Then, oh ! what joy when neet draws on! She meets him gangen frae his wark : But nin can tell what cheerfu' cracks The tweesome ha'e lansr efter dark. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 31 The wise man lives nit far frae this, 1*11 hunt him out suin as I can ; He telt Nan Dobson whee she'd wed, Aud I'm as likely, sure, as Nan. But still, still moilin by mysel, Life's just a bitter widout sweets : The summer brings nae pleasant days, Aud winter tires wi' lang, lang neets ! August 3, 1802. ^^^i^^r- BALLAD XII. TOM LINTON. Tune,—" Come under my plaidie.* Tom Linton was bworn till a brave canny fortune, His auld fadder screap'd aw the gear up he cud ; But Tom, country booby, luik'd owre hee abuin him, And mix'd wi' the bad, nor e'er heeded the good. At the Town he'd whore, gammle, play hell, aud the deevil, lie wad hev his caper, nor car'd how it com ; Then he mud hev his greyhounds, guns, setter, and hunter, And king o' the cockers they aw cursen'd Tom. 32 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. I think T just see how the lads wad flock roun him, And oh they were fain to shek Tom by the han ! Then he'd tell how he fit wi' the barbers and bullies, And drank wi' the waiter till nowther cud stan : His watch he wad shew, and his lists o' the horses, And pou out a guinea, and offer to lay, Till our peer country lads grew uneasy and lazy, And Tom cud ha'e coax'd hawf the parish away. Then he drank wi' the squire, and laugh'd wid his wor- ship, And talk'd of the duke, and the deevil kens whee ; He gat aw the the new-fangl'd oaths i' the nation, And mock'd a peer beggar man wanting an e'e. His fields they were«mortgag'd ; — abuot it was whis- per'd ; — A farmer was robb'd nit owre far frae his house ; At last aw was selt his auld fadder had toil'd for, And silly Tom Linton left nit worth a sous. His fortune aw spent, what ! he'd ha'e the laird's dow- ter, But she pack'd him off wid a flee in his ear; Neist thing, an auld comrade for money Tom borrow'd E'en pat him in prison, and bad him lig there : At last he gat out, efter lang he had suffer'd, And sair had repented the sad life he'd led : Widout shoon till his feet, in a soldier's auld jacket, He works on the turnpike reet hard for his bread. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 33 Now folly seen into, ragg'd, peer, and down-hearted, He toils and he frets, and keen wants daily press ; If cronies ride by, wey, alas ! they've forgot him, For whee can remember auld friends in distress ? O pity, what pity, that, in every county Sae monie *Tom Lintons may always be found! Deuce tek aw girt nwotions, and whurligig fashions, Contentment's a kingdom, aye, aw the warl round ! August 4, 1802. ^=^^£^&^- BALLAD XIII. THE HAPPY FAMILYf- -V- Tune,— " O'er bogie. 1 " THE hollow blast blows owre the hill, And comin down's the sleet; God help them, widout house or hauld, This dark and stormy neet ! Gome, Joiiby, gi'e the tire a prod, Then .steek the entry duir; It's wibe to keep eauid winter out. When we haVt in our pow'r. See Note XIX. f See Note XX. c 34 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. Heaste, Jenny ! put the bairns to bed, And mind they say their pray'rs ; Sweet innocents ! their heads yence down, They sleep away their cares ! But gi' them furst a butter-shag, When young, they munnet want, Nor ever sal a bairn o' mine, While I've a bite to grant. wife ! that weary rheumatism, E'en gars thee luik but thin ; 1 mind when tou was fresh and fair, And fattest o' thy kin ; But yage comes on, dui what we can ; We munnet think it hard : A week at Gilsland tou salt try, Neist summer, if we're spar'd. Now, seated at my awn fire-nuik, Content as onie king, For hawf an hour afwore we sleep, Bess, quit thy wark and sing : Try that about the beggar lass, 'Twill please thy mndder best, For she, tou kens, can always feel For peer fwok when distrest. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 35 Nay, what its owre ! tou cannot sing, But weel I guess the cause ; Young Wulliam sud ha'e come to neet, Consider, lass, it snaws ! Another neet '11 suin be here, Sae divvent freet and whine : Co' when he will, he's welcome still To onie bairn o' mine. I'll ne'er forget, when we were young, (Thy mudder kens a$ weel,) We met but yence a month, and then Out she was fworc'd to steal : The happiest day we e'er had known, Was when I caw'd her mine, But monie a thousand happier days We beath ha'e kent sin-syne. August 5, 1802. C* 36 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. BALLAD XIV. THE AUTHOR ON HIMSELF. Tune, — " The Campbells are coming.' 1 O, EDEN ! whenever I range thy green banks., And view aw the scenes o' my infantine prank's, Where wi' pleasure I spworted, ere sorrow began, I sigh to trace onward frae boy to the man : To memory dear are the days o' yen's youth, When, enraptur'd, we luik'd at each object wi' truth, And, like fairies, a thousand wild frolics we play'd — But manhood has chang'd what youth fondly pour- tray'd. I think o' my playmates*, dear imps, I lov'd best! Now divided, like kirks efter leaving the nest! How we trembl'd to schuil, and wi' copy and buik, Oft read our hard fate in the maister's stern luik ; In summer, let lovvse, how we brush'd thro' the wood, And meade seevy caps on the brink o' the flood ; Or watchM the seap-bubhlcs, or ran wi' the kite, Or Iaunch'd paper navies, how dear the delight \ -■ See Note XXII. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 37 There was Jock Smith the boggle, — I mind him reet weel, We twee to Blain's hay-loft together wad steal ; And of giants, ghosts, witches, and fairies oft read, Till sae freeten'd, we hardly durst creep off to bed: Then, in winter, we'd caw out the lasses to play, And tell them the muin shone as breet as the day; Or scamper, like wild things, at hunting the hare, Tig-touch-wood, four corners, or twenty gams mair. Then my fadder, God bless him! at thurteen oft said, ' My lad, I mun get thee a bit of a trade ; * O, cud I afford it, mair larnin thou'd get !' But peer was my fadder, and T's unlarned yet. And then my furst sweetheart, au angel was she ! But I only meade luive thro' the tail o' my e'e: I mind when I met her [ panted to speak, But stood silent, and blushes spread aw owre my cheek. At last, aw the play-things o' youth laid aside, Now luive, w hope, and fear did my moments divide, And wi' restless ambition deep sorrow began, But I si^h 1o trace onward frae boy to the man: To memory dear are the da) 8 o' yen's youth, W hen, euraptur'd, we luik'd nt i;k object wi' truth, And, like fairies, a thousand wild frolics we play'd — But manhood has chang'd what youth fondly pour- tray'd. Jugvst r„ 1x02. 38 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. BALLAD XV. PEACE. Tune,—" There's nae luck about the house. NOW, God be prais'd, we've peace at last, Fer Nichol he's been down, And 9ec a durdum, Nichol says, They've had in Lunnon town ; The king thought war wad ruin aw, And Bonnyprat the seame, And some say teane, and some say beath Ha'e long been much to bleame. Now monie a wife will weep for joy*, And monie a bairn be fain, To see the fadders they'd forgot, Come safe and sound again; And monie a yen will watch in vain, Wi' painfu' whopes and fears, And oft the guilty wretches bleame, That set fwok by the ears. * See Note XXI. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. "9 My cousin Tommy went to sea, And lost his left-hand thum ; He tells sec teales about the fight, They mek us aw sit dum: He says, it is reet fearfu' wark, For them that's fworc'd to see't— The bullets whuzzing past yen's lugs, And droppin down tike sleet. But Peter, our peer sarvent man, Was far owre proud to work ; They said a captain he sud be, Alang wiY Duke o' York ; Wi' powder'd head away he march'd, And gat a wooden leg; But monie a time he's rued sin-syne, lor now he's fworc'd to beg- Ay, but our Sally wull be fain, Sud Lanty but come back ! Then owre the fire, i' winter neets, We wull ha'e monie a crack ; He'll tell us aw the ins and outs, For he can write and read ; But Sally's heart for sure '11 brek, If he's aman'4 the dead. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. O ! but I us'd to wonder much, And think what thousands fell ; Now what they've aw been feghtin for, The de'il a yen can tell : But, God be prais'd ! we've peace at last, The news has spread afar; O may our bairns and bairns' bairns hear Nae mair o' murd'rous war ! August 6, 1802. BALLAD XVI. THE CUMBERLAND FARMER. I'VE thought and I've thought, ay agean and agean, Sin I was peat-heet, now I see it quite plain, That farmers* are happier far, tho' we're peer, Than thur they caw gentlefwok, wi' aw their gear ; Then why about riches aye mek sec a fuss, Gi'e us meat, drink, and deeding, it's plenty for us: Frae the prince t© the ploughman, ilk hes but his'day, And when Deeth gi'es a beckon we aw mun obey. * See Note XXIII. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 41 There's our 'squire, wi' his thousand's, jantjantin about What ! he'd gi'e aw his gear to get shot o' the gout: Nowther heart-ach nor gout e'er wi' rakin had I, For labour brings that aw his gold cannot buy : Then he'll say to me, ' Jacob, thou whussels anil sings, * Mess, lad, but you've ten times ruair pleasure than kings ; ' I mean honest simplicity, freedom, and health ; « These are dearer to man than the trappins o'wealth.' Can ought be mair sweet than, like larks in amworn, To rise wi' the sunshine, and luik at the cworn ? Tho' in winter, its true, dull and lang are the neets, But thro' life fwok mun aye tek the bitters wi' sweets. When God g-ants us plenty, and hous'd are the crops. How we feast on cruds, collops, and <;uid butter-sops. Let your fey ne fwok in town brago' dainties whee will, Content and the country for my money still. They may tell o' their gardens as lan«r as they like, Don't the fiow'rs bliim as fair under ony thworn dike? The de'ii a guid bite they wad e'er -jet I trow, Wer't not for the peer man that follows the plough. If we nobbet get plenty to pay the laird's rent, And keep the bairns teydey, we aye sleep content; Then, ye girt little fwok, niver happy in town, Blush, blush, when ye laugh at a peer country clown. August 25, 1802. 42 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. BALLAD XVII. THE DISAPPOINTMENT. Tune,—" Etrick banks." THE muin shone breet at nine last neet, When Jemmy Sharp com owre the muir; Weel did I ken a lover's fit, And heard him softly tap the duir: My fadder started i' the nuik, ' Iiin, Jenny ! see what's that,' he said : I whisper'd, • Jemmy, come to-mworn,' And then a leame excuse suin tne&de. I went to bed, but cudn't sleep, This luive sae breks a body's rest ; The mwornin dawn'd, then up I gat, And seegh'd, and aye luik'd tow'rds the west ; But when far off I saw the wood, Where he unlock'd his heart to me, I thought o' monie a happy hour, And then a tear gush'd frae my e'e. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 43 To-neet my fadder's far frae heame, And wunnet come this three hours yet; But, O ! it pours, and I'd he leath That Jemmy sud for me get wet ! Yet, if he dis, guid heame-brew'd yell Will warm his chearfu' honest heart ; Wi' him, my varra life o' life ! I's fain to meet, but leath to part. August 28, 1802. BALLAD XVIII. AULD MARGET. AULD Marget, in the fauld she sits, And spins, and sings, and smuiks by fits, And cries, as she had lost her wits — * O this weary, weary warl * !' Yence Marget was as lish a lass As e'er in summer trod the grass : But fearfu' changes come to pass In this weary, weary warl ! Then at a murry-neet or fair, Her beauty made the young fwok stare; Now wrinkl'd is that feace wi' care — O this weary, weary warl ! » Sec Note XXIV. 44 CUMERIAN BALLADS. Yence Marget she had dowters twee, And bonnier lasses cudna be ; JJow nowther kith nor kin has she — O this weary, weary warl ! The eldest wi' a soldier gay, Ran frae her heame ae luckless day, And e'en lies buried far away — O this weary, weary warl ! The youngest she did nought but whine,' And for the lads wad fret and pine, Till hurried off by a decline — O this weary, weary warl ! Anld Andrew toil'd reet sair for bread ; Ae neet they fan him cauld, cauld dead, Nae wonder that turn'd Marget's head — O this weary, weary warl! Peer Marget ! oft f pity thee, Wi' care-woni cheek and hollow e'e, Bow'd down by vage and poveit\ — O this weary, wear) warl ! August 28, 1802. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 45 BALLAD XIX. FIRST LUIVE. Tune, — " Cold and raw. IT'S just three weeks sin' Carel fair, This sixteenth o' September; There the furst loff of a sweetheart I gat, Sae that day I'll remember. This luive meks yen stupid — ever sin seyne l's thinkin and thinkin o' VVully ; I dung owre the knop, and scawder'd my fit, And cut aw my thoum wi' the gully. O, how he danc'd ! and, O how he talk'd ! For my life I cannot forget him ; lie wad hev a kiss — I gev him a slap — But if he were here I'd let him. Says he, * Mally Maudlin, my heart is thine !' And he brong sec a seego, I believ'd him : Thought I, VVully VViutrep, t'nou's welcome tt> mine, But my Leud I hung .!(;wn to deceive him. 46 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. Twee yards o' reed ribbon to wear for his seake, Forby ledder mittens, he bought me ; But when we were thinkin o'nought but luive, My titty, de'il bin ! com and sought me : The deuce tek aw clashes ! off she ran heame, And e'en telt my tarn'd auld mudder ; There's sec a te-dui — but let them fratch on— Miss him, I'll ne'er get sec anudder ! Neist Sunday, God wullin ! we promis'd to meet, I'll get frae our tweesome a baitin ; But a lee mun patch up, be't rang or be't reet, For Wully he sha'not stan waitin : The days they seem lang, and lang are the neets. And, waes me ! this is but Monday ! I seegh, and I tfcink, and I say to mjsel, O that lo-morrow were Sunday ! September 16, 1802. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 4? BALLAD XX. XAL STEPHEN. Tune,—" Hallow Fair.' LAL Stephen* was bworn at Kurkbanton, 'Just five feet three inches was he; But at ploughin, or mowin, or shearin, His match you but seldom cud see : Then at dancin, O he was a capper ! He'd shuffle and lowp till he sweat; And for singin he ne'er had a marrow, I just think I hear his voice yet. And then wid a sleate and a pencil, He capp'd aw our lamed young lairds; And play'd on twee jew-trumps together, And aye com off winner at cards. At huntin a brock, or an otter, At trackin a fonmert or hare, At pittin a cock, or at shootin, Nae lad cud wi' Stephen compare. * See Note XXV. 43 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. And then he wad feght like a fury, And count, fast as hops, aw the stars ; And read aw the news i' the paper, And talk about weddins aud wars ; And then he wad drink like a Briton, And spend the last penny he had, And aw the peer lasses about him, For Stephen were runnin stark mad. Our Jenny she writ him a letter, And monie a feyne thing she bard, But my fadder he just gat a gliffon't, And faith a rare durdum he meade ; Then Debby, that liv'd at Drumleenin, She wad hev him aw till hersel, For ae neet when he stuil owre to see her, Wi' sugar she sweetn'd his keale. Then Judy she darn'd aw his stockins, And Sally she meade him a sark, And Lizzy, the laird's youngest dov ter, Kens weel whee she met efter <;ark ; Aunt Ann, o' the wraug seyde o 1 fifty, E'en thought him the flow'r o' the fleck — Nay, to count yen by yen aw his sweethearts, V/ud tek a full hour Lv iLe clock. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 49 O ! but I was vex'd to hear tell on't, When Nichol the teydins he brought, That Stephen was geane for a sowdger — Our Jenny she gowl'd, ay, like ought* Sin' that we've nae spwort efter supper, We nowther get sang or a crack ; Our lasses sit beytin their fingers, Aw wishin for Stepen seafe back. November 15, 1802. BALLAD XXI. THE BASHFU' WOOER. Tune,—" Dainty Davy". WHENE'ER ye come to woo me, Tom, Dunnet at the window tap, Or cough, or hem, or gi'e a clap, To let my fadder hear man ; Tie's auld, and feal'd, and wants his sleep, Sae by the hallan softly creep, Ye need nae watch, and glow re and peep, I'll meet ye, niver fear man. D 3$ CUMBRIAN BALLADS. If a lassie ye wou'd win. Be cheerfu' iver, bashfu' niver; Ilka Jock may get a Jen, If he has sense to try, man. Whene'er we at ihe market meet, Dunnet luik like yen hawf daft, Or talk about the eauld and heat, As ye were weather-wise, man ; Hod up your head, and bauldly speak, And keep the blushes frae yer cheek, For he whee hes his teale to seek, We lasses aw despise, man. If a lassie, &c. I met ye leately, aw yer leane, Ye seem'd like yen stown frae the dead, Yer teeth e'en chatter'd i' yer head, But ne'er a word o' luive, man ; I spak, ye luik'd anudder way, Then trimmel'd as ye'd got a flay, And owre yer shou'der cried, ' guid day,* Nor yence to win me struive, man. If a lassie, &e. My aunty left me threescwore pun, But de'il a yen of aw the men, Till then, did bare-legg'd Elcy ken, Or care a stree for me, man ; CCMBUAN BALLABS. <51 Now, tiggin at me suin and late, They're cleekin but the yellow bait; Yet, mind me, Tom, I needn't wait, When I ha'e choice o' three, man. If a lassie, &c. There lives a lad owre yonder muir, He hes nae faut but yen — he's puir; Whene'er we meet, wi' kisses sweet, He's like to be my deeth, man ; And there's a lad ahint yon trees, Wad weade for me abuin the knees ; Sae tell your mind, or, if ye please, Nae langer fash us beath, man. Jan. 5, 1803.] If a lassie, &c. BALLAD XXII. THE AUNTY. WE'VE roughness amang hands, we've kye i'the byre, Come live wi' us, lassie, it's aw I desire; I'll lijj i' the loft, and gi'e my bed to thee, Nor sal ought else be wautin that giudness can gi'e : Sin the last o' thy kin, thy peer aunty, we've lost, Thou freets aw the day, and e'en luiks like a ghost. Da 5£ CUMBRIAN BALLADS. I mind, when she sat i' the rnrik at her wheel, How she'd tweyne the slow thread, and aye counsel us weel, Then oft whisper me, * Thou wad mek a top wife, * And pray God to see thee weel sattl'd for life ;' Then what brave funny teales she cud tell the neet through, And wad bless the peer fwok, if the stormy win blew. That time when we saunter'd owre leate at the town, 'Twas the day, I weel mind, when tou gat thy chintz gown, For the watters were up, and pick dark was the neet, And she lissen'd and cry'd, and thought aw was'nt reet; But, oh ! when you met, what a luik did she give ! — I can niver forget her as lang as I live. How T like thee, dear lassie ! thou's oft heard me tell; Nay, I like thee far better than I like mysel ; And when sorrow forseakes thee, to kurk we'll e'en But tou munnet s^t pinin thy leane aw day lang; Come owre the geate, lassie, my titty sal be A companion to her that's aye dearest to me. January 6, 18G3. -v^^fm- / CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 53 BALLAD XXIII. THE RURAL VISIT. Tune, — " The mtor's dowter." I WENT to see young Susy, Bonny, teydey, blithe was she ; I slyly kiss'd her cherry lips, And mark'd the magic o' her e'e, That in my fancy rais'd desire ; But purer passion never burn'd In onie lover's bosom ; And aye may sorrow wet his cheek, Who'd crush sae rare a blossom ! And now the rwosie lassie The death she laid, and teable spread Wi' monie a dainty quickly, And monie a welcome thing she said; But nit sae sweet the honey cwOru, As Susy's temptin cherry lips, That rir'd at once my bosom : O may no rude destroyer dare To crop aue fair a blossom ! 54 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. And now, to greet the stranger, The wearied auld fwok dander'd heame, And village news recounted : The guid man bade his sonsy deame Trim up the lire and mek the tea; The gurdle-cakes, as Susy turn'd, I watch'd her heaving bosom, And pleasure beam'd in ilka f'eace, To see sae sweet a blossom. And now, to please the auld fwok, The sang and teale went gaily round, Till Neet had drawn her curtain Some five full hours; I ruse, and fan Young Susy half consenting To set me out a mile o'geate*; I held her to my bosom, And, parting, kiss'd, and pray'd kind Heav'u To gu-ard this beauteous blossom. January 8, 1803. * See Note XXVI. •U MB HI AN BALLADS. 55 BALLAD XXIV. WATTY. Tune, — * The ladso" Dunce. 1 1^ you ax where I come frae, I say the fell seyde, Where ladder and raudder, and honest fwok beyde; And iny sweetheart, O bless her ! she thought nin IK ke me, F»r when we shuik hands the tear gush'd frae her e'e. Says I, * I mun e'en get a spot if I can, * lint, whatever beteyde me, I'll think o' thee Nan.' Nan was a parfert beauty, wi' twee checks like codlin blossoms : the varra sect on her meade my mouth aw watter. ' Fhres-te-weel, Watty!' says she; ' tou's a wag amang V lasses, and I'll see thee nae mair !'— * Nay, limine t gowl, Nan!' says I, * For, mappen, ere langj I's be maister mysel ;' Sae we buss'd, aud I tuik a last luik at the fell. On I whnssl'd and wonder'd — my bundle I filing Owre my shou'der, when Cwoiey he efter roe .sprung 1 , And howl'd, silly fellow ! and fawu'd at my lit, An if to say, Watty, we inunnet part yet ! 06 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. At Carel I stuid wi' a strae i' my mouth *, And they tuik me, nae doubt, for a promisin youth. The weyves com roun me in clusters : ' What weage dus te ax, canny lad ?' 6ays yen. ' Wey, three pun and a crown ; wunnet beate a hair o' my heard.'—' What can te dui ?' says anudder. ' Dui ! wey I can plough, sow, mow, sheer, thresh, dike, milk, kurn, muck a byre, sing a psalm, mend car-gear, dance a whornpeype, nick a naig's tail, hunt a brock, or feght iver a yen o' my weight in aw Croglin parish.' An auld bearded hussey suin caw'd me her man ; But that day, I may say't, aw my sorrows began. Furst, Cwoley, peer fellow ! they hang'd i' the street, And skinn'd, God forgi'e them ! for shoon to their feet. I cry'd, and they caw'd me peer hawf-witted clown, And banter'd and follow'd me aw up and down : Neist my deame she e'en starv'd me, that niver liv'd weel; Her hard words and luiks wou'd ha'e freeten'd the de'il :— She had a lang heard, for aw t' warl like a hilly goat, wi' a kiln-dried frosty feace: and then the smawest leg o' mutton in aw Carel market sarrad the cat, me, and her for a week. The bairns meade sec gam on us, and thunder'd at the rapper, as if to waken a corp : when I opened the duir, they threw stour i' my een, and eaw'd me daft Watty j * See Note XXVII. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 57 Sae 1 pack'd up my duds when my quarter was out, And, wi' weage i' my pocket, I saunter'd about. Suin my reet-hand breek pocket they pick'd in a fray, And wi' fifteen wheyte shillinsthey slipp'd clean away, Forby my twee letters frae mudder and Nan, Where they 6aid Carel lasses wad Watty trapan : But 'twould tek a lang day just to tell what I saw, How I sceap'd frae the gallows, the sowdgers and aw. Ay, there were some forgery chaps had me just sign my neame. ' Nay,' says I, • you've gotten a wrung pig by the lug, for I canno write.' Then a fellow like a Iob« ster, aw leac'd and feather'd, ax'd me, ' Watty, wull te list ? thou's owther be a general or a gomoral.' ' Nay, I wunnet — that's plain : I's content wi' a cwoat o' mudder's spiunin.' Now, wi' twee groats and tuppence, I'll e'en toddle heame, But ne'er be a sowdger wheyle Watty's my neame. How my mudder '11 gowl, and my fadder '11 stare, When I tell them peer Cwoley they'll never see mair. Then they'll bring me a stuil; — as for Nan, she'll be fain, When I kiss her, God bless her, agean and ajjeari ! The barn and the byre, and the auld hollow trte, Will just seem like cronies yen's fidgin to see. 68 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. . The sheep 'II nit ken Watty's voice now ! The peai- Stack we us'd to lake roun 'II be brunt ere this ! A» for Kan, she'il be owtber married or broken hearted j but sud aw be weel at Croglin, we'll ha*e feastin, fid- d!in, dar.cin, drinkiu, singiu, and smuikin, a\e, till a\t's blue about ns : Amang aw our nevbors sec wonders I'll tell, But niver mair leave my auld iriens or the fell. Jamiary 10, 1803. BALLAD XXV. jenny's complaint. Tune, — " Nancy's to the greenwood gune." O, LASS ! I've fearfu' news to tell ! What thinks te's come owre Jemmy ? The sowdirers hev e'en pick'd him up, And sent him fur, far frae me : To Carel he set offwi' wheat ; Them ill reed-cwoted fellows Snin wil'd him in* — then meade him drunk He'd better geane to. th' gallows. ♦See Note XXVIH, CUMBRIAN BALLADS, 59 The varra seet o' his cockade Ijt set us aw a-cryin ; For me, I fairly fainted tweyce, Tou may think that was tr) in : My fadder wad ha'e paid the smart, Aud shew'd a gowden guinea, But, lack-a-day ' he'd kiss'd the buik, And that '11 e'en kill Jenny. Whea Nichol tells about the wars, It's war than deeth to him ; I oft steal out, to hide mv tears, Aud cannot, cannot bear him; For ave he jevbe^ and i ra< '>-. hi> jwokes, And" bids me nit for-* -ake him ; A brigadier, or grandidier, He says, they're sure lo meake him. If owre the stibble fields T gang, I think I see him plonghin, And ev'ry bit o' bread 1 eat, It seems o' Jemmy's sowin : He led the varra cwoals we burn, And when the fire I's leetin, To think thepeats were in his hands, It sets my heart a beatin. 60 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. What can I de ? T nought can de, But whinge, and think about him : For three lang years he follow'd me, Now I mun live widout him ! Brek, heart, at yence, and then it's owre ! Life's nought widout yen's dearie. I'll suin lig in my cauld, cauld grave, For, oh ! of life I'm weary ! April 19, 1803. ^^S^^^r^ BALLAD XXVI. MATTHEW MACREE. Tune, — " The wee pickle tow." SIN I furst work'd a sampleth at Biddy Forsyth's, I ne'er saw the marrow o' Matthew Macree*; For down his braid back hing his lang yallow locks, And he hes sec a cast wi' his bonny grey e'e; Then he meks us aw laugh, on the stuil when he stands, And acts like the players, and gangs wi' his hands, And talks sec hard words as nit yen understands — O, what a top scholar is Matthew Macree ! * See Note XXIX. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 6] 'Twas nobbet last Easter his cock wan the main, I stuid i' the ring, rejoicin to see ; The bairns they aw shouted, the lasses were fain, And the lads o' their shou'ders bore Matthew Macree: Then at lowpin he'll gang a full yard owre them aw, And at rustlin, whilk aw them dare try him a faw, And whee is't that aye carries off the fit-haw, But the king of aw Cummerland, Matthew Macree. That time when he fit full twee hours at the fair, And lang Jemmy Smith gat a famish black e'e ; Peer Jemmy I yence thought wad niver paw mair, And I was reet sworry for Matthew Macree : Then he wad shek the bull-ring, aud brag the heale town, And to feght, rin, or russle, he pat down a crown; Saint Gworge, the girt champion, o' fame and renown, Was nobbet a waffler to Matthew Macree. On Sundays, in bonny wheyte weastcwoat whendress'd, He sings i' the kurk, what a topper is he ! I hear his Strang voice far abuin aw the rest, And my heart still beats time to Matthew Macree: Then his feyne eight-page ditties, and garlands sae sweet, They mek us aw merry the lang winter neet; But, when he's nit amang us, we niver seem reet, Sae. fund are the lasses o' Matthew Macree. §2 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. My fadder he left me a bouse on the hill, And l's git a bit Ian sud my aunty dee, Then I'll wed bonny Matthew whenever he will, • For gear is but trash widout Matthew Macree: We'll try to shew girt fwok content in a cot, And when in our last heame together we've got, May our bairns and their neybors oft point to the spot, Where lig honest Matthew and Jenny Macree. June 12, 1803. BALLAD XXVII. CALEP CROSBY. Tune,— « Auld Rob Morris? WIFE! I wad fain see our Sukey dui reet, But she's out wi' the fellows, aye neet efter neet : Them that's fash'd wi' nae bairns iver happy mun be, For we've yen, and she's maister o' baith thee and me ! 1 can't for the life o' me get her to work*, Nor aw the lang Sunday to ga near a kurk, Nor frae week en to week en a chapter to read, For the Bible ligs stoury abuin the duir head. * See Note XXX. CWMBRTAK RAM. AM. 6S Sheyencecud ha'ecrammerd,and writ her awn nrame, Aiid, Sunday and warday, was te\dey at heame; Now, to see her whol'd stocking, her brat, and her gown, She's a shem and a byzen to all the hcale town. O wad s>he be guided, and stick till her wheel, There's nin kens how fain I wad see her dui weel; For she's thy varra picture, and aw that we have, But thur neets' warks '11 bring my grey hairs to the grave. *Twas nobbet last week, in a passion I flew, And gev her a trouncin — but sair did I rue ; Then I bad her e'en pack up her duds, and we'd part, For to streyke uiy awn bairn it just breksmy auld heart. There's that ill Calep Crosby, he's niver away, He's gleymin and watchin her beath neet and day; Sud he come i' my clutches a ken-guid he's get, For, tho' auld, leaine, and t'eeble, I'll maister him yet. I'll away owreto Whitten* a press-2;ang to seek, And they's lig him in irons, ay this varra we*k ; On Ins back he may tie her, a donnet is she, And sha'not be maister o' beath thee and me ! July 2, 1803. » <••(..«..<« * Wliitthaveii. 64 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. BALLAD XXVIII. FECKLESS WULLY. WEE Wully wuns on yonder brow, And Wully he hes dowters twee; But nought cud feckless Wully dui, To get them sweethearts weel to see. For Meg she luik'd baith reet and left, Her een they bwor'd a body throV; And Jen was deef, and dun, and daft, And de'il a yen com there to woo. The neybor's wink'd, the neybors jeer'd, The neybors flyr'd at them in scworn, And mohie a wicked trick they play'd Peer Meg and Jen, beath neet and mworn. As Wully went ae day. to wark, He kick'd a sutnmet wid his shoe ; And Wully glowr'd, and Wully girn'd, ' Guide us !' quoth he, « what ha'e we now ?' CUMBRIAN BAT.LABS. » And Wully cunn'd owre six scwore pun, And back he ran wi' nimmle heel, And aye he owre his shou'der glym'd, And thought he'd dealins wi' the de'il. And Wully's bought a reet snug house, And Wully's bought a bit o' Ian ; And Meg and Jen are trig and crouse, Sin he the yellow pwokie fan. Nae mair the neybors wink and jeer, But aw shek hans wi' them, I trow ; And ilk yen talks o' William's gear, For Wully's chang'd to William now. And some come east, and some come west, And some come monie a mile to wo»; And Meg luiks straight, and Jen hes sense, And we aw see what gear '11 dui. Ye rich fwok aw, ye'll aye dui reet ; Ye peer fwok aw, ye'll aye dui wrang; J-,et wise men aw say what they will, It's money meks the meer to gang. July 3, 1803. <^ E 66 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. BALLAD XXIX. THE ELECKELL MURRY-NEET. AY, lad ! sec a murry-neet we've hed at Bleckell *, The sound o' the fiddle yet rings i' my ear; Aw reet dipt and heel'd were the lads and the lasses, And monie a cliver lish hizzey was there : The bettermer swort sat snug 1' the parlour, I' th' pantry the sweethearters cutter'd sae soft ; The dancers they kick'd up a stour i' the kitchen ; At lanter the caird-lakers sat i l the loft. The cloggjer o' Dawston's a famish top hero, And bangs aw the player-fwok twenty to yen ; He stamp'd wid his fit, and he shouted androyster'd, Till the sweat it ran off at his varra chin en : Then he held up a han like the spout of a tea-pot, And danc'd cross the buckle and leather-te-patch ; When they cried, ' bonny Bell,'' he lap up to the ceilin, And aye crack'd his thoums for a bit of a fiatch. * See Note XXX I. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 67 The Hivverby lads at fair drinkin are seypers; At cockin the Dawstoners niver were bet; The Buckabank chaps are reet famish sweethearters, Their kisses just sound like the sneck of a yeat; The lasses o' Bleckell are sae monie angels, The Cummersdale beauties aye glory in fun- God help the peer fellow that glymes at them dandii, He'll steal away heartless as sure as a gun ! The 'bacco was Strang, and the yell it was tythey, And monnie a yen bottom'd a quart like a kurn ; Daft Fred', i' the nnik, like a hawf-rwoasted deevil, Telt sly smutty stwories, and meade them aw gurn ; Then yen sung " Tom Linton ,"anudder" Dick Waiters" The auld farmers bragg'd o' their fillies and fwoals, \Vi' jeybin and jwokin, and hotchin and laughin, Till some thought it time to set off to the cwoals. But, hod ! I forgat — when the clock strack eleeben, Thedubbler wasbrongin wi' wheyte breed an brown, The gully was sharp, the girt cheese was a topper, And lumps big as lapsteans our lads gobbl'd down : Aye thedouse dapper lanlady cried, ' Eat and welcome! 1' ( kkI's neame step forret; nay, dunnet bebleate!' Our guts aw wecl pang'd, webuck'd upforblin.Tennv, And neist paid the shot on a girt pewder plate. E2 68 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. Now full to the thropple,wi' head-warks and heart-ache» Some crap to the clock-case instead o' the duir : Then sleepin and snworin tuik place o' their rworin, And tean abuin tudderthey laid on the fluir. The last o' December, lang, lang, we'll remember, At five i' the mworn, eighteen hundred and twee ; Here's health and success to the brave Jwohny Dawston And monie sec meetins may we live to see ! July 4, 1803. BALLAD XXX. THE DELIGHTS OF LOVE. Tune—" Farewel to Bam/: THE summer sun was out o' seet, His partin beams danc'd on the fluid : The fisher watch'd the silver fry, As i' the stream he bending stuid ; The blaokburd mourn'd the clowsin day, And caw'd his partner to his nest ; When [ up Caldew tuik my way, And met the lass I aye like best. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. GO I gaz'd upon her matchless feace, That fairer than a lily seem'd ; I mark'd the magic o' her e'e, That wi* luive's powerfu' leetnin beam'd ; I saw her cheek of breetest red, That, blushing, telt a lover's pain, And seizM a kiss, if 'twas a crime, Ye Gods ! oft may I sin again ! Fast flew the hours — now ruse the muin, And telt us it was time to part; I set her to her mudder's duir, She wisper'd low, ' Thou's stown my heart !' I thro' the lattice stole a glance, And heard her angry mudder chide : Then thought of aw a parent's cares, As frae her cottage heauie 1 kied. I've teastecl piastres dearly bought, And read mankind in monie a page: But woman, woman,, sweetens life, Frae giddy youth to feeble age. Ye finis, aye court coy Fortune's smile; Ye rakes, in que^t of pleasure rove: Ye drunkards, drown each sense in wine; Be mine the dear delights or lo\e ! J'<1> S, 1R0J. E3 70 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. BALLAD XXXI. RUTH. TUNE, — " My auld guidman." THE crackets were chirpin on the hearth ; Our wife reel'd gairn, and sat i'th nuik ; I tuik a whiff o' my cutty black peype; . Lai Dick by fire-leet plied his buik; The youngermer bairns, at heeds and cross, Sat lakin merrily in a row ; The wind clash'd tui the entry duir, And down the chimney fell the snow. * O !' says our weyfe, then fetch'd a seegh, ' Guidman, we sud reet thankfu' be ! * How monie a scwore this angry neet*, * Wad like to sit wi' tee and me ; ' Sae wad our dowter Ruth, I trow, ' A silly peer luckless bairn she's been ; ' For her, nae day gangs owre my head, * But painfu' tears gush frae my een. * Sec Note XXXII. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 71 ' She aye was honest and weel to see, * I say't— she hed nae faut but yen— ' She off wid a taistrel sowdger lad, * And never yence sent the scribe of a pen : * O man ! we sud forget and forgive ; ' The brute beast for its awn '11 feel ; * Were mine awt' warl, ay ten times mair, * I'd gi'e't to see her alive and weel. ' Whea kens, peer thing ! what she's endur'd, * Sin that sad hour she left her heame; ' Thou turn'd her out; it hurt me sair, 1 And aw our neibors cried out shera.' Here stopp'd our we\fe, and shuik her head, While tears ran tricklin down her cheek ; I fan the truth o' what she said, But de'il a wo.d cud owther speak. Just then the latby for a bonny lass, Can cap them aw, I trow. Her mudder sells a swope o' drink, It is beath stuut and brown, And Etty is the hiuny fowt Of aw the country roun. Frae east and west, beath rich and peer, A-horse, a-fit, caw in ; For whee can pass sae rare a lass, He's owther daft or blin. * Names of Cumberland village*. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 75 Her een are like twea Cursmas sleas, But twice as breet and clear; Nae rwose cud iver match her feace, That yet grew on a brier ; At town, kurk, market, dance, or fair*, She meks their hearts aw stoun, And conquers mair than Bonnyprat, Whene'er she keeks aroun. Oft graith'd in aw their kurk-gawn gear, Like nowblelwords at court, Our lad» slink in, and gaze and grin, Nor heed their Sunday spwort ; If stranger leets, her een he meets, And fins he can't tell how ; To touch the glass her han has touch'd, It sets him in a lowe. Yence Thuirsby lads were wliea but we, And cud ha'e bang'd the lave, But now they hing tlieir lugs, and luik Like fwok stown frae the grave ; And what they ail in head or heart Nae potticary knows — The little glancin Thuirsby Witch, She is the varra cause. •See Note XXXIV. 76 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. Of Black-ey'd Susan, Mary Scott, The lass o' Patie's mill, Of Barbara Allan, Sally Gray, The lass o' Richmond-hill, Of Nancy Dawson, Molly Mog, Tho' thousands sing \vi' jdee, This village beany, ont and out, Sl.e bangs them aw to bee. November 10, 1803. BALLAD XXXIV. THE VILLAGE GANG. — r TUNE, — " Jenny dang the weaver.'" THERE'S sec a gang in our town, The deevil cannot wrung them, And cud yen get tern put i' prent, Aw England cuddeut bang them: Our dogs e'en bite aw decent fwok, Our varra uaia-s they kick them, And if they nobbet ax their way, Our lads set on and lick them. CUMBRIAN BAT, TABS. 77 Furst wi' Dick Wiggem we'll begin, The teyney, greasy wobs>ter : He's got a gob frae lug to lug, And neb like onie lobster; Dick' weyfe, they say, was Branton bred, Her raudder was a howdey, And when peer Dick's thrang on the luim, She's off to Jwhonie Gowdey. But as for Jwhonie, silly man *, He threeps about the nation, And talks o' stock* and Charley Fox, And meakes a blusteration ; He reads the paper yence a week, The auld fwok geape and wonder- Were Jwhonie king, we'd aw be rich, And France mud e'en knock under. Lang Peel the laird's a dispert chap, His weyfe's a famous fratcher — She brays the lasses, starves the lads, Nae bandylan can match her : We aw ken how they gat their gear, But that's a fearfu' stwory, And sud he hi rig on Carel Sands, Nit j en wad e'er be sworry. * See Note XXXV. 78 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. Beane-breaker Jwohn we weel may neame, He's tir'd o' wark, confound him ! By manglin limbs and streenin joints, He's meade aw cripples round him : Mair hurt he's duin than onie yen That iver sceap'd a helter ; When sec like guffs leame decent fwok, It's time some laws sud alter. The schuilmaister's a conjuror*, For when our lads are drinkin, Aw macks o' tricks he'll dui wi' cairds, And tell fwok what they're thinkin ; He'll glowre at maps and spell hard words, For hours and hours together, And in the inuin he kens what's duin — Nay he can coin the weather ! Then there's the blacksmith wi' ae e*e, And his hawf-witted mudder, 'Twad mek a deed man laugh to see Them glyme at yen an udder; A three-quart piggen full o' keale, He'll sup, the greedy sinner; Then eat a cow'd-lword like his head, Ay, onie day at dinner. * See Note XXXVI. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 79 Jack Mar, the hirplin piper's son, Can bang them aw at leein ; He'll brek a lock, or steal a cock, Wi' onie yen in bein : He eats guid meat, and drinks Strang drink, And gangs weel graith'd o' Sunday, And weel he may, a bonny fray Com out last Whissen-Monday. The doctor he's a parfet pleague, And liawf the parish puzzens; The lawyer sets fwok by the lugs, And cheats them neist by duzzens ; The parson swears a bonny stick Amang our sackless asses ; The 'squire's ruin'd scwores and scwores C canny country lasses. There's twenty mair, coarse as neck beef, If yen had time to neame them ; Left-handed Sim, slape-finger'd Sam, Nae law cou'd iver teame them ; There's blue-nehb'd Watt and ewe-chin'd Dick, Weel wordy o' the gallows — O happy is the country seyde That's free frae sec like fellows ! November 27, 1S03. tO CUMBRIAN BALLADS. BALLAD XXXV. BICKY GLENDININ. TUNE,—" As Patie came up frae the glen." MY fadder was down at the mill, My mudder was out wid her spinnin, When, whea sud slip whietly in, But canny lal Dicky Glendinin ; He pou'd off his muckle top cwoat, And drew in a stuil by the hallan, Then fworc'd me to sit on his knee, And suin a sad teale began tellin. * O, Jenny, O Jenny !' says he, * My likin for tee I can't smudder ; * It meade me as seek as a peat, ' To think tou'd teane up wid anudder. * What ! there's been a bonny te-dui ' About a lantr hulk o' a miller ! ' He's wide-^obb'd, and ill-natur'd tui, But ae word sa)s aw — he lies siller. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 81 * The lasses aye flyre and mak gam, * And ax me, what's got Jenny Foster ? * The lads, when we meet i' the lwones, « Cry out, Sairy Dick ! what, tou's lost her ! * When Rowley, the miller, last neet * I met, as we com in frae sheerin, * Had the sickle but been our lang gun, * I'd shot him, ay, dead as a herrin. * O ! hes te forgotten the time, ' Tou said tou lik'd me best of onie ? ' And hes te forgotten the time, * Tou said luive was better than monie ? * And hes te forgotten the time, * I mark'd our twea neames on a shillin ? 4 Tou promis'd to wear't neist thy heart, * And then to wed me tou was willin. ' The furst time you're cried i' the kurk, * I'll step my ways up, and forbid it; * When cauld i' my coffin, they'll say, * 'Twas e'en Jenny Foster that did it ! * My ghost, the lang neet, aw in wheyte, * Will shek thee, and gar thee aw shiver — * O, the tears how they hop owre my checks, 4 To think I sud lwose thee for ever!' F •S2 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. O, Dicky ! O, Dicky ! says I, I nowther heed house, Ian, or siller Tou's twenty times clearer to me Than onie lang hulk of a miller ! A match we struck up in a crack, And Dicky's got sticks and got beddin ; My fadder and mudder are fain, Then hey for a guid merry weddin ! t December 10, 1803. ■^^^^^^c?^ BALLAD XXXVI. THE INVASION. Tuxe, — " Lingo's wedding HOW fens te, Dick ? There's fearfu' news Udsbreed ! the French are com in ! There's nought at Carel but parades, And sec a drum, drum, drummin : The volunteers and brigadiers Are aw just mad to meet them ; And England e'en mun hing her head, If Britons dunnet beat them. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 83 Then there's the Rangers, aw in green, Commanded by brave Howard — Of aw his nowble kin, nit yen Was iver caw'd a coward. They'll pop the Frenchmen off like steyfe, If e'er they meet, I'll bail them; Wi' sec true Britons at their heads, True courage cannot fail them. Thur French are dispert wicked chiels, If it be true they tell us, For where they've been, fwok curse the day They e'er saw sec sad fellows. They plant the tree o' liberty, And hirelings dance around it, But millions water't wi' their tears, And bid the de'il confound it. Our parson says*, '* we bang'd them still, " And bang them still we man, man, " For he desarves a coward's deeth, " That frae them e'er wad run, man : " What feckless courts, and worn-out states, " They've conquer'd just by knav'ry ; •' But every volunteer will pruive, " A Briton kens nae slav'ry." * See Note XXXVII. F 2 84 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. I've thought and thought, sin I kent ought, Content's the greatest blessin; And he that seizes my bit Ian Desarves a guid sound dressin. Auld England, though we count thy fau'ts, For ever we'll defend thee ! To foreign tyrants sud we bow, They'll mar, but nrver mend thee. December 20, 1803. BALLAD XXXVII. GRIZZY. Tune, — " My auld guidman^ THE witch weyfe begg'd in our backseyde*, But went unsarra'd away i' th' pet; Our Ester kurn'd at e'er she kurn'd, But butter the deuce a crum cou'd get. The pez-stack fell, and crush'd my fadder ; My mudder cowp'd owre, and learn'd hersel ; Neist, war and war, what dud we see, But Jenny' pet lam drown'd i' the well. * See Note XXXVIII. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 85 Auld Grizzy the witch*, as some fwok say, Meks paddock-rud ointment for sair een, And cures the tuith-wark wi' a charm, Of hard words neane ken what they mean. She milks the kye, the urchin's bleam'd ; She bieets the cworn wi' her bad e'e ; When cross'd by lasses, they pruive wi' bairn, And if she grummet, they're seafe o' twee. I yence sweethearted Madge o' th' mill, And whea sae thick us she and I ; Auld Whang he promis'd tweescore pan, A weel-theek'd house, and bit of a stye; Ae neet we met at our croft head, But Grizzy was daund'ring aw her leane, And scarce a week o' days were owre, Till Madge to kurk Wull Weer had teane. When deef Dick Maudlin last his weyfe, And said 'twas weel it was naewar; When Jerry' black filly pick'd the fwoal, And hawf-blin Calep fell owre the scar; When manten Marget brunt her rock; When smuggler Mat was lost i' the suaw ; When whee/lin VV'ully was set i' the stocks; Auld Grizzv aye gat the w^eyte of aw. * See Note XXXIX. 86 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. Her feace is like the stump of a yek ; She stoops and stowters, sheks and walks; Bleer-e'e'd and tuithless, wi' a beard : She coughs and granes, and mumps and talks ; # She lives in a shill-house, burns dried sticks, And there hes dealins wi' the de'il. O war she whietly in her grav r e, For where she bides few can dui weel. February 3, 1803. BALLAD XXXVIII. GVVORDIE GILL. Tune, — " Andrew wV his cutty gun.' OF aw the lads I see or ken, There's yen I like abuin the rest ; He's neycer in his war day duds, Than others dunn'd in aw their best. A body's heart's a body's awn, And they may ^i'e't to whea they will ; Had I got ten where I ha'e neane, I'd ai'e them aw to Gwordie Gill. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 87 Whea was't that brak our lanlword' garth*, For me, when bairns we went to schuil ? Whea was't durst venture mid-thie deep, To get my clog out o' the puil ? And when the filly flaug me off, And lang and lang I laid sae ill, Whea was't gowl'd owre me day and neet, And wish'd me weel ? 'Twas Gwordie Gill. Oft mounted on his lang-tail'd naig, Wi' feyne new buits up till his kiiee, The laird's daft son leets i' the faul, And keaves as he wad wurry me ; Tho' fadder, mudder, uncle tui, To wed this maz'lin teaze me still, I hear of aw his Ian and brass, But oft steal out to Gicordie GUI. Frae Carel cousin Fanny com, And L>ron' tea, or sec puizen i' thar days, But drank tweyce-brew'd yell till hawf mad: Theie was KlTT and Ned INeilso>, and DAN and Wat Wilson, They've aw geane and left th«e and me. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 93 GABRIEL. There's ae thing, guid Matthew, I've lang thought of axin, And that tou mun grant if tou can ; When I's stiff and cauld, see me decently coffin'd, And laid down aseyde my wevfe Ann. My peer granson Jwosep, he thrives and he grows up, O luik till him when I's low laid ! Mind he gaes to the kurk, and sticks weel till his larnin, And get him a bit of a trade ; The neybors will bless thee, it wunnut distress thee r And happy auld Gabriel can dee. MATTHEW. Keep up thy heart, Gabey ! nae guid comes o' grievin; Aye laugh at the warl, if thou'd thrive ; I've buried three weyves, and mun e'en hev anudder, I's quite youn^ and rash — eighty-five ; Then sec a hard drinker, a wustler, a feghter, A cocker I've been i' my time; And as for a darrak, in barn or in meadow, Whea match'd me, when just i' my prime? I ne'er thought o' whinin, or gowlin or pinin — We're wise when we chearfu' can be. 94 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. GABRIEL. Nay but, neybor Matthew, when ninety lang winters Ha'e bent yen, and powder' d the pow, We grane i' the nuik, wi' few friens or acquaintance, And just fin we cannot tell how : For me, I's sair fash'd wi' a cough and the gravel, And ae single tuith i' my head ; Then, sin my peer bairn they tuik off for a sowdger, I've wish'd I were nobbet weel dead ; — The house uncle ga'e me the squire e'en ta'en frae me : There's nought but the warkhouse for me! MATTHEW. My fadder, God rust him ! wi' pinchin and pleenin, Screap'd up aw the gear he end get ; I've been a sad deevil, and spent gowd i' gowpens, But still ha'e a hantel left yet: Come gi'es thy hand, Gabey* ! tou's welcome as may be, My purse and my ambrie to share ; We'll talk of auld times, — eat, drink, and be merry: Thy qranson sail get what we spare : — Then leet thy pipe, Gabey ! tou's welcome as maybe, They's ne'er mek a beggar o' thee ! March 14. 1304. ♦Sff Note XI.!!I CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 95 BALLAD XLI. UNCLE WULLY. TUNE,—" Woo'd and married and a'.* '• IT'S a comical warl this we live in," Says Calep, and Calep says reet ; For Matty, that's got aw the money, Has e'en geane and wedded deyl'd Peat* He's nobbet a heather-feac'd maz'lin, And disn't ken whisky frae yell ; But her, weel brong up and a scholar, Has just meade a fuil o' hersel ! De'il bin bat she'd little to de, To tek sec a hawflin as he, That nowther kens A, B, or C ! — Nay, what sec a pair can ne'er 'gree 1 He ne'er hes a teale widout laitin, And hardleys can grease his awn clogs; He marry a decent man's dowter ! He's fitter to lij* arnang hogs ! At the clock for an hour he'll keep glymin, But de'il e'er the time he can tell ; And my niece, for that ae word husband, lias e'en geane and ruin'd hersel. s De'il bin, &c. 96 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. Her fadder, Ged keep him ! my billy, Aye thought her the flow'r o' them aw; And said on his deeth-bed, * O, Wully, ' Luik till her, man, when I lig low !' I meade her beath reader and writer — Nin bang'd her, the maister can tell ; But, speyte o' beath larnin and manners, She's e'en meade a guff of hersel. De'il bin, &c When lasses get past aw advisin, Our's then turns a piteous case ; A cwoat or sark yen may shep them, But aw cannot gi'e them God's greace : For me, I'll e'n deet my hands on her, And this aw our neybors I'll tell ; She's meade a bad bed, let her lig on't, And think how she's ruin'd hersel. De'il bin but she'd little to de, To tek sec a hawflin as he, That nowther kens A, B, or C! — Nay, what sec a pair can ne'er 'gree ! April 10, 1804. .r?'p- CUMBRIAN BALLADS. §f BALLAD XLIII. GUID STRANG YELL. OUR Ellek likes fat bacon weel*, And hawer-bannock pleases Dick ; A cow'd-lword meks lal Wully fain, And cabbish aye turns Philip sick ; Our deame's for gurdle-ceake and tea, And Betty's aw for thick pez-keale ; Let ilk yen fancy what they wull, Still my delight is guid Strang yell. I ne'er had muckle, ne'er kent want, Ne'er wrang'd a neybor, frien, or kin ; My weyfe and bairns 'buin aw I prize— There's music i' their varra din : I labor suin, I labor leate, And chearfu' eat my humble meal ; My weage can feed and dead us aw, And whiles affords me guid Strang yell. ♦ See Note XLIV. G $» CUMBRIAN BALLADS. What's aw the warl widout content ? Wi' that and health man can't be peer ; We suin slip off frae friens and foes, Then whea but fuils wad feght for gear. 'Bout kings and consuls gowks may fratch ; For me 1 scworn to vex mysel, But laugh at courts, and owre-grown knaves, When I've a hush o' guid Strang yell. April 22, 1804. BALLAD XLIV. BURGH RACES. £, WuLLY ! had ton nobbet been at Burgh Races* ! It seem'd, lad, as if aw the warl were met; Some went to be seen, others off for divarsion, And monie went there a lock money to bet : The cup was aw siller, and letter'd reet neycely, A feyne naig they've put ou't, forby my Lword's neame ; Jt hods nar a quart, for monie drank out ou't, And open'd their gills till they cu'dn't creep heame. * See Not* XLV. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 99 There was, ■ How fens te, Tommy ?'— * What, Jwo- sep ! I's gaily * : * Wey, is there ought unket i' your country seyde V * Here, lanlword ! a noggin !' — Whea rides the Col- lector ?' * What Meason' auld meer can bang aw far and wide !' There was snaps, yell, nuts, gingerbread, shwort- ceakes and brandy, And tents full o' ham, beef, and nowble veal pye; There was Greenup wi' a reet and true list o' the horses, The neames o' the awners and reyders forby. Ere they saddl'd, the gamlers peep'd sair at the horses ; Ses scrudgin, the fwok were just read}' to brust ; Wi' swearin and bettin, they meade a sad hay-bay : * Til lig six to four !' — ' Done ! come, down wi' the dust !' — ■* What think ye o' Lawson ?' — * The field for a gui- nea !' — ' I'll mention the winner ! Dare onie yen lay ?' Jwohn Blaylock' reed handkitcher wav'd at the diss- nens : At startin, he cried, « Yen, twee, three, put away !* •St-e Note XLVI. G 2 100 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. They went off like leetnin — the auld meer's a topper ; She flew like an arrow, and shew'd tem her tail ; They hugg'd, whupp'd, and spurr'd, but cud niver yence touch her— The winners they rear'd, and the lwosers turn'd pale: "Peer Lawson gat dissen'd, and sae sud the tudders, Furst heat was a chase, and the neist a tek in ; Then some drank their winnins : but, wofu' disaster ! It rain'd, and the lasses gat wet to the skin. Like pez in a pot, neist at Sandsfield they caper'd ; The lads did the lasses sae kittle and hug ; Young Crosset, i' fettle, had got bran new pumps on, And brong fisher Jemmy a clink i'the lug ; The lapses they belder'd out, f Man thysel, Jemmy*,' His comrades they poud off his cvvoat and his sark ; They fit, lugg'd, and lurry'd, aw owre blood and batter, The lanlword com in, and cried, ' Shern o' sec wark !' » There were smugglers, excisemen, hor&e-cowpers, and parsons, Sat higglety-pigglety, aw fare alike ; And mowdy-warp Jacky — ay, man, it was funny ! He meade them aw laugh when he stuck in a creyke. ♦See jSoteXLVIl. ' \ CUMBRIAN BALLAD!. 101 Thtre were latses frae Wigton, and Worton, and Banton, Some o' them gat sweethearts, while others gat neane ; And bairns yet unbworn '11 oft hear o' Burgh Races, For ne'er mun we see sec a meetin agean. May 4, 1804. BALLAD XLV. BIDDY. Tune,—" Since love is the plan.' 'TWAS frost and thro' leet, wid a greymin o' snaw, When I went to see Biddy, the flow'r o' them aw ; To meet was agreed on.at Seymy' deyke nuik, "Where I saunier'd wi' monie a seegh and lang luik, But poud iij) my spirits and off till her heame, For when fsvok mean reet, wey, what need they think- sheame ! I peep'd tliro' the window, to see what was duin* ; Her fadder sat whu»siin, and greasin his shoon ; *Se« Note XLV11I, 102 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. Her mudder satdarnin, and smuikin tht while; And Biddy was spinnin, the neet to beguile ; Her thread it aye brak, she seem'd sad as cud be, And yen sat aside her, a stranger to me. She turn'd her head frae him, and niver yence spak ; He struive for a kiss, then she up in a crack, And suin i' the faul, wi' great pleasure we met, But that happy moment we ne'er can forget ; To be mine she promis'd agean and agean, And the priest, if God spare us, will suin mek us yen. May 15, 1804. BALLAD XLVI. DINAH DUFTON. Tune, — " Good night, and joy be wi' yea\ PEER Dinah Dufton's e'en wi' bairn * f Oh, but I's unco sworry for't! A bonnier or a teydier lass, No niver vet fell i' the durt: * See Note XIIX. CUMBRIAN BALLAD*. J 03 Auld Tim, her fadder, turn'd her out At mid neet, tho* 'twas frost and snaw ; She owre the geate, — what cud she de ?— And sobb'd and gowl'd, and telt us aw. My fadder shuik his head at furst, But spak and acted like a man ; * Dinah !' says he, ' tou sanot want, 4 Sae keep thy heart up, if tou can ; * I've lads and lasses o' my awn, ' And nin can tell what they may de : * To turn thee out! peer luckless bairn ! • Thy fadder e'en mun harden' d be '.' God niver meade a heartier lass, For she wad sing for iver mair ; Yet, when peer fwok were in distress, To hear on't, Oh ! it hurt her sair ! This luive, they say, hides monie fau'ts : Peer thing ! the warl she little knew ! But if she'd been by me advis'd, She waddent bed sec cause to rue. At Rosley Fair she chanc'd to leet O* mangrel Wull, that wicked tuil; He'd larn'd to hanuel weel his feet, And kept a bit o' danciu sob nil : 104 CUMBRtAN BALLADS, A fortune-teller neist he brib'd, To say the match was meade abuin ; But when he'd brong his ends about, He nobbet laugh'd and left her suin. Now Dinah's apron's grown quite shwort ; Dull, downcast, outcry o' the lave! Aw day she whinges in our loft, And wishes she were in her grave : But mangrel Wull, that wicked tuil, My fadder says sail lig in jail; And he that ruins onie lass, Pe'll tek the man that wad him bail. July 16, 1804. *=^£S^^ BALLAD XLVII. NED CARNAUGHAN, Tune,—" The miller of Dee.'' MY mudder was teakin her nuin's rest,. My fadder was out at the hay, When Ned Carnaughan com bouncin in, And luik'd as he'd gotten a flay : CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 105 * O, Sib!' says he, ' I's duin wi' te : — « Nay, what, thou blushes and stares ! — * I seed thee last neet wi' bow-hough'd Peat, « And de'il tek them that cares !* Says I to Ned, to Ned says I, * What's aw this fuss about ? ' I's seer he's a reet lish country lad, * And tou's just a parfet lout: * But whea were liggin i' Barney's croft, * And lakin like twea hares ? ' And whea kiss'd Suke frae lug to lug? * Wev, de'il tek them that cares !' Says Ned, says he, • The thimmel gi'e me*, ' I brong thee frae Brautou fair, ' Aud gi'e back the broach and true-love knot, ' Aud lock o' my awn reed hair ; * And pay me the tuppence 1 wan frae thee ' Ae neet at pops aud pairs; * Then e'en tek mi wi' whea thou likes — * The de'il tek them that cares !' The broach and thimmle I flang at his feace, The true-love knot i' the fire ; Says I, ' Tou's nobbet a hawfiin bworu — ' Fash me nae mair, I desire ; Sec Note L. 106 CUMBRIAN BALLADS* * Here, tek thy tuppence, a reape to buy, * And gi'e thysei nae mair airs; * But hing as hee as Giideroy— * The de'il tek them that cares !' July 27, I804i — —ac® ass «»*»- BALLAD XLVIII. THE COCKER o' CODBECK. Tune, — " Patrick's day V the ynorning.' THERE was ill gusty Jemmy, the cocker o'Codbeck* He follow'd blin Leethet' lass years twee or three; She laid in o 1 twins, and was e'en broken-hearted, For Jernmy had left her — and, ueist, what did he, But ran owre to Hesket, and wedded anudder ; Suin peer Greacy Leethet was laid in her grave; The last words she spak were, ' O God, forgi'e Jemmy ! I may rue the day when he stud my heart frae me! ' Tho' l's gawn to leave you, my innocents save-F Her twea bairns she kiss'd, And then sunk into rest. O but sec like fellows sud sutler ! * Ske Kotc LI. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 107 Itie'er can forget, when the corpse cross' d the lonnin, Amang auld and young there was nit a dry e'e; Aw whop'd she was happy — but, O man ! her fadder When they cover'd the coffin, we thought he wad dee} He cried, • I've nae comfort sin I've lost my Greacy ! « O that down aseyde her my head I could lay !' For Jemmy, de'il bin him ! he's kent nought but crosses, He's shunn'd by the lads, and he's hiss'd by the lasses, And Greacy's ghost haunts him by neet and by day ; Nae neybor luiks near him, The bairns they aw fear him ; And may sec like fellows still suffer ! July 28, 1804. ^-"^\®\^^- BALLAD XLIX. CANNY CUMMERLAN. TUNE, — " The humours ofVlen." 'TWAS ae neet last week, wid our wark efter supper. We went owre the geate cousin Isbel to see; There was Sibby frae Curthet, and lal Betty Byers, Deef Debby, forby Bella Bunton and me ; We'd scarce begun spinnin, when Sib a sang lilted, She'd brong her frae Carel by their sarvent man; 'Twas aw about Cummerlan fwok and feyne pleaces, And, if I can think on't, ye'» hear how it ran. 108 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. Yer buik-larn'd wise gentry, that's seen monie coun- ties, May preach and palaver, and brag as they will O' mountains, lakes, valleys, woods, waiters, and meadows, But canny auld Cummerlan caps them aw still*: It's true we've nae palaces sheynin amang us, Nor marble tall towers to catch the weak eye : But we've monie feyne castles, where tit our brave fadders, When Cummerlan cud onie county defy. First, Graystock we'll nwotish, the seat o' girt Norfolk, A neame still to freemen and Englishmen dear; Ye Cum me Ian fwok, may your sons and your gran- sons Sec rare honest Statesmen for iver revere: Corruption's a sink that'll puzzen the country, And lead us to slav'ry, to me it stems plain; But he that has courage to stem the black torrent, True Britons sud pray for, agean and agean. Whea that hes climb'd Skiddaw, hes seen sec a prospect, Where fells frown owre fells and in majesty vie ? * Sec Note LI I CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 10$ Whea that hes seen Keswick, can count hawf it* beauties, May e'en try to count hawf the stars i' the sky: There's Ullswater, Bassenthwaite, Wastwater, Derwent, That thousands on thousands ha'e travell'd to view; The langer they gaze, still the inair they may wonder, And aye, as they wonder, may fin summet new. We've Corby*, for rocks, caves, and walks sae de- lightfu', That Eden a paradise loudly proclaims; O that sec like pleaces hed aye sec like awners, Then mud monie girt fwok be proud o' their neames ! We've NETHERBYtui, the grand pride o' the border I And haws out o' number nae county can bang; Wi' rivers romantic as Tay, Tweed, or Yarrow, And green woodbine bowers weel wordy a sang. We help yen anudder; we welcome the stranger; Oursels and our country we'll iver defend ; We pay bits o' taxe* as weel as we're yable, And pray, like true Britons, the war had an end : Then, Cummerlan lads, and ye lish rwosy lasses, If some caw ye clownish, ye needn't think sheame; Be merry and wise, enjoy innocent pleasures, And aye seek for health and contentment at heame. * August 12, 1804. * Set Note LIU '!!• CPHBRIAW BALLABJfc BALLAD L. JEFF AND JOg. TUJTE,— " F^e, gae rub her »Vr wi 1 strat fi 1 JEFF. COME, Job, let's talk o' weel-kent pleaces^ When young tearin chaps were we: Now nin nar us but fremm'd feaces— Few to seyde wi' thee and me !— Years are geane by twee and twonty, Sin I kent thy curly pow — Aye the furst at wark and spwortin, Were Jeff Heyne and Jwosep Howe. job. Ay, Jeff! we've lang kent yen anudder ; Monie a time when chaps were crouse, And meade abrulliment and bodder, Jeff and Job ha'e clear'd the house; Nin like thee cud fling the geavelick*-; Nin like me lak'd at fit-baw ; Wi' pennysteans tou was a darter — I at trippet bang'd tern aw. *See Note LIV. CUMBRIA!* BALLADS. Ill JEFF. Then, Job, I mind at your kurn-supper *, When I first saw Elcy Greame, I cudent eat — my heart it flutter' d — Lang Tom Leytle watch' d us heame : — We were young, and heath i' fettle — He wad teght — we e'en set tui ; In the clarty seugh I sent him ; Elcy skirl'd — what cud she dui ? JOB. And, Jeff", when met at Cursmas cairdinsf, Few durst lake wi' thee and me ; When we'd hack'd the lads aw roun us, Off to th' lasses' bed went we ; The as-buird sarrad as a teable, Legs anundert' claes were laid; Forby laughin, kissin, jwokin, Monie a harmless prank we play'd. JEFF. Now, Job, we pay for youthfu' follies — Aw our happy days aregeane; — Tou's turn'd grousome, bare and dozen'd, I's just worn to skin and beane. — S< c Note LV. f See Not.- LV1 112 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. But maister's comin in a flurry — Sarvents aye sud mind their wark ;— I mun off" to deetin havver — Fares-te-weel till efter dark ! October 12, 1804. BALLAD LI. TIB AND HER MAISTER, FS tir'd wi' liggin aye my leane ; This day seems fair and clear ; Seek th' auld grey yad, clap on the pad, She's duin nae wark te year : Furst, Tib, get me my bestlin sark, My wig, and new-greas'd shoon ; My three-nuik'd hat, and mittens white- I'll hev a young weyfe suin*! A young weyfe for me, Tib, A young weyfe for me ; She'll scart my back whene'er it yuks, Sue married I mun be ! * See Note LVH. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 113 * Wey, maister \ you're hawf blin and deef— * The rain comes pouring down ; — * Your best lin sark wants beath the laps, * Your three-nuik'd hat the crown ; * The rattens eat your clouted shoon ; * The yad's unshod and leame ; * You're bent wi' yeage like onie bow; * Sae sit content at heame ! * A young weyfe for ye, man ! ' A young weyfe for ye ! ' They'll rank ye wi' the horned nowt * Until the day ye dee.' O, Tib ! thou aye talks like a fuil ! I's fail'd, but nit sae auld ; A young weyfe keeps yen warm i' bed, When neets are lang and cauld : I've brass far mair than I can count, And sheep, and naigs, and kye ; A house luiks howe widout a wevfe — My luck I'll e'en gae try. A young weyfe for me, Til), A young weyfe for me ; I yet can lift twea peeks o' wots, Tho' turn'd o' eighty-three. II Ill CUMBRIAN BALLADS. • Weelj maister, ye maun ha'e your way, * And sin ye'U wedded be, ' I's lish and young, and stout and Strang, ' Sae what think ye o' me ?■ ' I'll keep ye teydey, warm, and clean, * To wrang ye I wad scworn.' Tib ! gi'es thy hand ! a bargain be't-»- We'll off to kurk to-mworn ! A young weyfe for me, Tib, Tou was meade for me ; We'll kiss and coddle aw the neet, And aye we'll happy be. November 11, 1804. *=^C^£5^ BALLAD L1I. JWOHNY AND MARY. Tune,—" Come under my pluidie." YOUNG Mary was canny and bonny as onie lass, Jwohny was lusty and wee! to be seen ; Young Mary was aye the best dancer at murry neet.«, Jwohny had won monie a belt on the green : CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 115 Lang, lang they were sweethearts, and nwotish'd by neybors ; Th' auld fwok they talk'd, and oft bragg'd o' the twee, For Jwohny thought nin i'the warl like young Mary» And Mary thought Jwohny aw she wish'd to see. A wee swope guid yell is a peer body's comfort*, But wo be to him that oft drinks till blin fou ! Young Jwohny ae day off wi' bigg to the market, And drank wi* some neybors, he little thought how. His auld fadder watch'd till the black hour o' midneet ; Widout his dear Jwohny the naig gallop'd heame : They sought, and they fan him that mwornin i' Eden, Amang the green busses that nod owre the stream. Auld Gibby he gowls, and aye talks of his Jwohny, And sits by his greave, and oft meks a sad meane ; Peer Mary, the flow'r of aw rlow'r? i' the parish, Ne'er hods up her head, now her Jwohny is geane. The dangerous yell-house kills monie brave fellowsf, To get heame quite swober can ne'er be thought wrang ; Nae guid comes o'drinkin. — Ye lads aw around me, At fair, or at maiket, aye think o' my sang! November 13, 1804. • See Note J.'.'lll. -J- ::.-« N«.t. l.'.X. H 2 Il6 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. BALLAD LIII. THE CLAY DAUBIN, TUNE, — " Andrew Carr? WE went owre to Deavie v Clay Daubin*, And faith a rare caper we had, Wi' eatin, and drinkin, and dancin, And rwoarin and singin like mad; We'd crackin, and jwokin, and braggin, And fratchin, and feightin and aw; Sec glorious fun and divarsion Was ne'er seen in castle or haw. Sing hey for a snug clay biggin, And lasses that like a bit spwort; Wi' friends and plenty to gi'c them, We'll laugh at King Gworge and his court. The waws wer aw finish'd er darknin ; Now, greypes, shouls, and barrows thrown by, Auld Deavie spak up, wid a hursle, ' Od rabbit it ! lads, ye'll be dry : * See Note LX CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 117 ' See, deame, if we're got a swope whusky *?— * I's sworry the rum-bottle's duin — • We'll starken our keytes, I'll uphod us— * Come, Adams f, rasp up a lal tune I' When Bill kittl'd up " Chips and shavins" Auld Philip pou'd out Matty Meer, Then nattl'd his heels like a youngen, Aad caper'd about the clay fleer ; He deeted his gob, and he buss'd her, As ii*h as a lad o' sixteen ; Cries Wull, ' Od dy ! fadder'f i' fettle! ' His marrow '11 niver be seen !' Reet sair did we miss Jemmy Coupland — Bad crops, silly man, meade him feale — Last Sunday fworenuin, efter sarvice, I' the kurk-garth the clark caw'd his scale*: Peer Jemmy ! of aw his bit oddments A shottle the bealies ha'e ta'eu, And now he's reet fain of a darrak, For pan, dish, or spuin he hes neane. * Note LXI. f W. Adam*, an excellent country musician, particularly noted t'.:r ;>l .; hit jiifs and strathspeys; and a maivweil known :it fairs, inerry-nights, ktiru-suppers, and cluky-cJaul>in«s. \ Note LXI I. 118 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. Wi' scons, leather-hungry*, and whusky, Auld Aggy eried, ' Meake way for me ! ' Ye men fwok, eat, drink, and be murry, * While we i' the bower get tea.' The whillymer eat teugh and teasty, Aw cramm'd fou o' grey pez and seeds j They row'd it up teane agean tudder — Nae dainties the hungry man needs. Now in com the women fwok buncing— Widout tem there's niver nee fun ; — Wi' whusky aw weeted their wizzens, But suin a sad hay-bay begun ; For Jock, the young laird, was new wedded, His auld sweetheart Jenny luik'd wae ; While some were aw titterin and flyrin, The lads rubb'd her downf wi' pez-strae. Rob Lowson tuik part wi' peer Jenny, And brong sniff ring Gwordie a cluff ; I' th' scuffle they leam'd Lowson' mudder, And fain they'd ha'e stripp'd into buff: * This is a ludicrous name given to a poor sort of cheese made of skimmed miik, and made use of by some of the pea- *ants of Cnmberland as a part of tbeir meals. It is also sometimes called whillymer, and sometimes Itoslcy Cheshire. A more particular description of this cheese will be found iw Note I. at the end of the volume. t See Note LXIIJ. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 119 Neist Peter caw'd Gibby a rebel, And aw rwoar'd out, that was wheyte wrang ; Cried Deavie, * Sheake hans, and nae mair ©n't— 4 I's sing ye a bit of a sang.' He lilted " The King and the Tinker," And Wully strack up " Robin Hood;" Dick Mingins tried " Hoohj and Fairly," And Martha, " The Babs o' the Wood" They push'd round a glass like a noggin, And bottom'd the greybeard complete ; Then crack'd till the muin glowr'd amang them, And wish'd yen anudder guid neet. December 21, 1804. END OF The former Edition or THE BALLADS, NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED. BALLAD LIV. The Fellozvs round Torkin*. TONE, — " The Yorkshire Concert" WE'RE aw feyne fellows round Torkin ; We're aw guid fellows weel met ; We're aw wet fellows round Torkin, Sae faikins we mun hev a sweat : Let's drink to the lasses about us, 'Till Day's braid glare bids us start; We'll sup till the sailer be empty — Come, Dicky, lad, boddom the quart. I'll gi'e ye, says Dick, durty Dinah, That's ay big wi' bairn fwok supp'.vose; She sticks out her lip like a pentes, To kep what may drop frae her uwose : * A wood-covered hill, near Ci of ton Hall, in Cumberland. 122 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. Like a hay-stack she hoists up ae shouder, And scarts, for she's nit varra soun : Wi' legs thick as mill-pwosts, and greasy, The deevil cud nit ding her down ! We're aw odd fellows round Torkin ; We're aw larn'd fellows weel met; We're aw rich fellows round Torkin, Sae faikins we mun hev a sweat: Let's drink to the lasses about us, 'Till Day's braid glare bids us part ; We'll sup till the sailer be empty — Come, Matthew, lad, boddom the quart* I'll gi'e ye, says Matt, midden Marget, That squints wi' the left-handed e'e; When at other fellows she's gleymin, I's freeten'd she's luikin at me: She smells far stranger than carrion, Her cheeks are as dark as hung beef, Her breasts are as flat as a back-buird ; 'Mang sluts she's aye counted the chief! We're aw wise fellows round Torkin; We're aw neyce fellows weel met; We're aw sad fellows round Torkin, Sae faikins we mun hev a sweat: rrvnniAN ballads. 123 Let's drink to the lasses about ug," 'Till Day's braid glare bids us part; We'll sup 'till the sailer be empty — Come, G wordy, lad, bottom the quart. I'll gi'e ye, says Gworge, geapin Grizzy, Wi' girt feet and marrowless legs; Her red neb wad set fire to brunstone; Her een are as big as duck egg6 : She's shep'd tike a sweyne i' the middle, • Her skin freckl'd aw like a gleid ; Her mouth's weyde as onie town yubbem, We're freeten'd she'll swally her head ! We're aw Strang fellows round Torkin ; We're aw lish fellows weel met ; We're aw top fellows round Torkin, Sae faikins we mun hev a sweat : Let's drink to the lasses about us, 'Till Day's braid glare bids us start ; We'll sup till the sailer be empty — Come, Wully, lad, boddom the quart. I'll gi'e ye, says Willi, winkin Winny, That measures exact three feet eight, But wi' ronn-shouder'd Ruth, or tall Tibby, She'll scart, and she'll girn, and she'll fe»kt; 124 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. She's cruik'd as au S — wid a hip out, Her feet flat and braid, as big fluiks; Her feace is as lang as a fiddle, And aw spatter'd owre wi' red plouks ! We're aw young fellows round Torkin; We're aw teeght fellows weel met ; We're aw brave fellows round Torkin, Sae faikins we mun hev a sweat : Let's drink to the lasses about us, 'Till Day's braid glare bids us part ; We'll sup till the sailer be empty — Come, Mwosy, lad, boddom the quart. I'll gi'e ye, says Mwose, mantin Matty, That lisps thro' her black rotten teeth ; You can't catch five words in ten minutes ; If gowlin, she'd flay yen to death : Her feace like auld Nick's nutmig grater, And yallow neck bitten wi' rleas ; She's troubl'd wi' win ay at meale teymes, And belshes to give hersel ease ! We're aw cute fellows round Torkin ; We're aw sharp fellows weel met; We're aw rare fellows round Torkin, Sae faikins we mun hev a sweat : CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 125 Let's drink to the lasses about us, 'Till Day's braid glare bids us part ; We'll sup 'till the sailer be empty — Come, Nathan, lad, bottom the quart. I'll gi'e you, says Natt, noisy Nanny, That chows shag 'bacco for fun ; She cocks her belly when walkin, And ay luiks down to the grun : She talks beath sleepin and wakin, And crowks like a tead when she speaks ; On her nwose en the hair grows like stibble, And gravey drops run owre her cheeks ! We're aw teugh fellows round Torkin ; We're aw rash fellows weell met ; We're aw queer fellows round Torkin, Sae faikins we mun hev a sweat : List's drink to the lang, leame, and lazy, Deef, dum, black, brown, bleer-e'ed, and blin, May they suin get weel weddet, and beddet, If lads thev can onie where (in ! Ii6 CUMBRIAN BALtADI. BALLAD LV. The Dalston Player-fwok. TUNE,—" Berry Dow*.* COME, stur the fire, Shadrich ! and harken to me; I weut up to Dawston their Play-fwok to see, And paid my cruik'd tizzy, and gat a front seat ; Thrang as three in a bed, they were wedg'd in that neet. Derry Down, &e. Furst, the ban on their hoyboys and pipes did sae cruin, Tho' they blew oft and sair, it ay seem'd the seame tune: Aw was famish confusion, but when they began, Lack-a-day ! the Fair Penitent pruiv'd but a man ! Derry Down, &c. When they ehink'd a lal bell, there was yen summet spak, But he hung down his head, anrl he held up his back ; The picture caw'd Garrick abuin the sta^e s-tood, I thought it yence laugh'd, artl i' faith wee! it mud ! I,r rry Low n, k \<-. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 1 1~ Like a hawf white-wnsh'd sweep, yen Orasfii* bunc'd in And he tweyn'd leyke an edder, and cock'd up hit chin ; In his yallow plush breeks, and lang black rusty sword, Wid his square gob weyde open — thought I, what a Lword ! Derry Down, &c. He was drucken, (that's sarten) ; he cud'nt get on j •' Loavius !" cried an auld woman ; " What, that'* Rutson' Jwohn ! 44 Mess, but he's a darter !" — " A topper !" says I, " Was he but in a meedow, he'd freeten the kye." Derry Down, &c. In bonny flow'r'd weastcwoat, and full-bottom'd wig, Auld Siholto he squeek'd leyke a stuck guinea pig; Then his dowter he fratch'd, and her sweetheart forby, O man, it was movin, and meade the bairns cry. Derry Down, &c. Yen whisper'd me softly, " That's clogger Jwohn Bell." Says I, " Leyke enen^h — of that man I've heard /e//." Now a tweesome talk'd loud, but nit varra discreet, For they promis'd Urea uhorcs'f afore nuin they wad meet. Derry Down, &c. * Tlic manner inwVich tltey prononiu'frf the aw, And neist at the schuil-house ainang the esh trees • Last thing, saw the smuik rising up frae our chimley* And fan aw quite queer, wid a heart ill at ease : But suinmet within me, cried, Pon up thy spirits ! There's luck, says auld Lizzy, in feacin the sua; Tou's youug, lish and clever, may wed a fey lie leady r And come heame a Nabob — ave, sure as a gun I CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 141 I Tl i.i'vj-. urA • i J■<• >-. nr {. Knowing manners, what, I doft d my hat to aw stran- Wid a spur on my heel, a yek siplin in hand, It tuik me nine days and six hours comin up-bank; At the Whorns — aye, 'twas Highget, a chap bad me stand ; « • ...Ivji. ***.. o .> . Says he, " How's all friends in the North, honest Johnny ?" Odswuuters ! I says,. what, ye jlivent ken me!— I paid twee wheyte shillins, and fain was to see him, Nit thinkiu on't road onie 'quaintance to see. Neist thing, what big kurks, gilded cwoaches, hee houses, And fwok runnin thro' other leyke Carel Fair ; ii I ax'd a smart chap where to fin cousin Jacep, '' -)•■•'■' - _ ,, Says he, " Clown, go look '." Friend, says I, tell me where? Fadder' letter to Jacep had got nae subscription, Sae, when I was glowrin and siz'lin about, A wheyte-feac'd young lass, aw dress'd out leyke a leady, Cried, " Pray, Sir, step in* [" but I wish I'd kept out. * See Frontispiece. 142 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. She pou'd at a bell, leyke our kurk-bell it sounded, In com sarvent lass, and she worder'd some weyne ; Says I, Fs nit dry, sae, pray, Madam, excuse me ! Nay, what she insisted I sud stop and deyne. She meade varra free, — 'twas a shem and a byzen ! I thought her in luive wi' my parson, for sure ; And promis'd to caw agean : — as for black filly, (Wad onie belie v't !) she was stown frae the duir ! Od dang't ! War than that : — when I greap'd my breek-pocket, I fan fadder' watch, and the nwotes were aw gaen ; It was neet, and I luik'd lang and sair for kent feaces, But Burrowdale fwok I cud never see neane. I slept on the flags, just ahint a kurk corner, A chap wid a girt stick and lantern com by, He caw'd me peace-breaker — says I, Thou's a lear — In a pleace leyke a sailer they fworc'd me to lie. Nae caff bed or blankets for silly pilgarlic; Deil a wink cud I sleep, nay nor yet see a steyme ; Neist day I was ta'en to the Narration Offish, When a man in a wig said, I'd duin a sad creyme. Then ane ax'd my neame, and he pat on his speckets, Says I, Jwohnny Cruckdeyke — Fs Borrowdale biL'orn. Wbea think ye it pruiv'd, but my awn cousin Jacep, He seav'd me fraet gallows, aye that varra mworn. CUMBRIAN BALLAD9. 143 He spak to my Lword, some hard words, quite out- landish, Then caw'd for his coach, and away we ruid heame; He ax'd varra kind efter fadder and mudder, I said they were bravely, and neist saw his deame : She's aw puff and pouder; as for cousin Jacep, He's got owre much gear to teake nwotish o' me ; But if onie amang ye sud want a lish sarvent, Just bid me a weage — I'll upod ye, we's 'gree. January 4, 1807. BALLAD LXI. LANG SEYXE. Tune,—" Takyour auld cloak about ye. n THE last new shun our Betty gat, They pinch her feet, the deil may care ! What, she mud ha'e them leady like, Tho' she hes cworns, for evermair : Nae black gairn stockins will she wear, They muu be white, and cotton feyne ! This meks me think of other times, The happy days o' auld king seyne ! l£4 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. Our dowter, tui, a palace* bought, A guid red clwoak she cannot wear; And stags', she says, spoil leady's sheps— Oh ! it wad mek a parson swear. $it ae han's turn ri' wark she'll dili; She'll rtowther milk or sarrat sweyne— The country's puzzen'd round wi' preyde, For lasses work'd reet hard lang seyne. We've three guid rooms in our clay house, Just big eneugh for sec as we ; They'd hev a parlour built wi' bricks, I mud submit — what cud I dee ? The sattle neist was thrown aseyde, It meeght ha'e sarra'd me and mine ; My mudder thought it mens'd a house — But we think shem o' auld lang seyne ! We U6'd to ga to bed at dark, And ruse agean at four or rive ; The mworn's the only time for wark, If fwok are hilthy, and wou'd thrive : Now we get up, — nay, God kens wlien ! And nuin's owre suin for us to deyne; J's hungry or the pot's hawf boil'd, And wish for times like auld lang seyne; * Pelisse. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 14,5 Deuce tek the fuil-invented tea ! For tweyce a-day we that mun have ; Then taxes get sae monstrous hee, The deil a plack yen now can seave ! There's been nae luck throughout the Ian, Sin fwok mud like their betters sheyne ; French fashions mek us parfet fuils ; We're caff and san to auld lang seyne ! January 5, 1807. -oOO©OOOCO< BALLAD LXII. THE AULD BEGGAR. I MET the auld man, wid his starv'd grey cur near him, The blasts owre the mountains blew cauld i' the vale; Nae heame to receive him, few strange fwok to hear him, And thin wer his patch'd duds, he mickle did ail : A tear dimm'd his e'e, his feace furrow'd by sorrow, Seem'd to say, he frae whope nit ae comfort cud bor- row, And sad was the beggarman's teale. K 146 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. ' Behold,' he cried, seeghing, * the spwort of false for- tune ! ' The peer wretched outcast, the beggar you see, ' Yence boasted o' wealth, but the warld is uncertain, * And friens o' my youth smeyle nae langer on me : * I's the last o' the flock, my weyfe Ann for Heav'n left me, * Of my only lad, Tim, accurst war neist bereft me ; ' My yage's suppwort lang was he ! ' Yence in the proud city, I smeyl'd amang plenty, ' Frae east and frae west, monie si vessel then bore * To me the rich cargo, to me the feyne dainty, * And the peer hungry bodies still shar'd of my store : e A storm sunk my shippen, by false friens surround- ed, ' The lau May he tell merry stories, nor yence rue the day, When he wander'd, peer lad ! frae the fell seyde away, This, this is my wish for young Yeddy. Of lads sec as him may we ne'er be in want, And a brave soldier's pocket of brass ne'er be scant ! Nit the brags o' proud Frenchmen auld England can -launt, White we've plenty like young soldier Yeddv*. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. '^7 BALLAD LXXIV. THE DAWTIE. Tune,—" Pm o'er young to marry yet.* 1 JENNY. • ; THO' weel I like ye, Jwohnny lad, I cannot, munnet marry yet ! My peer auld mudder's unco bad, Sae we a whe\ le mun tarry yet ; For ease or comfort she has neane ; Leyfe's just a lan<) BALLAD LXXV. THE CODBECK WEDDIN. TllUE, — " Andrew Carr. True is uiy song, tW lowly b« the strain THEY sing of a weddin at Worton, Where aw was feght, fratchin, and fun ; Feegh ! see a yen we've hed at Codbeck,. As niver was under the sun: The breydegruim was weaver Joe Beicfoy^ He com frae about Lowthet Green*; The breyde, Jwohnnie Dalton lish dowter, And Betty was weel to be seen. Sec patchin, and weshin, and bleachin, And starchin, and da-rnin auld duds; Some lasses thought lang to the weddin ', Unax'd, others sat i' the suds : There were tweescore and seebem invited, God speed tem, 'gean Cursenrn ass-day; " Dobson lads, tui, what they nriin come hidder f i think they were better away f + Village.-}. ancLodti hous«»iu tliii iM;isjW>«ruJiood 170 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. Furst thing, oggle Willy, the fiddler, Caw'd in, w' auld Jonathan Strang ; Neist stiff and stout, lang, leame and lazy, Frae aw parts com in wi' a bang: Frae Brocfclebank*, Fuilduirs*, and Newlands* , Frae Hesket*, Burfc-heads* and the Height*, Frae Warnell*, Starnmire*, Nether Welton*, And awt' way from Eytonfield-street* . Furst, auld Jwohnny Daicton we'll nwotish, And Mary, his canny douse deame ; Son Wully, and Molly, his sister ; Goffef weyfe, Muckle Nauvy by nearne ; Wully Sinclair, Smith Leytle, Jwohn Aitchin, Tom Ridley, Joe Sim, Peter Weir, Gvcorge Goffet, Jwohn Bell, Miller Dyer, Joe Head, and Ned Bulman were there. We'd hay-cruiks, and hen-tails, and lianniels, And natllers that fuddle for nought ; Wi' sceape-qreaces, skeybels, and scruffins, And maffs better fed far than taught ; We'd lads that wad eat for a weager, Or fejjlit, ay, till bluid to the knees; Fell-aeydem, and Sowerby riff-raff. That doil a bum-heal ie dare seize. • Village* aud vAd houses in the rn;l' b!>ettrl)oo«L CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 171 The breyde hung her head, and luik'd sheepish, The breydegruim as wheyte as a clout; The bairns aw gleym'd thro' the kurk windows, The parson was varra devout : The ring was lost out bf her pocket, The breyde meade a bonny te-dee; Cries Goffet" wife, " Mine's meade o' pinchback, " And, la ye ! it fits till a tee !" Now buckl'd, wi' fiddlers afwore them, They gev Michael Crosby a caw ; Up spak canny Bewley the breydgruim, " Get slocken'd, lads! fadder pays aw.** We drank till aw seem'd blue about us, We're aye murry deevils, tho' peer; Michael' weyfe says, ' Widout onie leein, * A duck mad ha'e swam on the fleer.* Now, aw 'bacco'd owre, and hawf-drocken, The men fwok wad needs kiss the breyde; Joe Head, that's aye reckon'd best spokesman, Whop'd " guid wad the couple beteyde ;" Says Michael, •* I's reet glad to see you, " Suppwosin i wat ne'er a plack." Cries t' weyfe, " That'll nowther pay brewer, " Nor get bits o' sarks to yen's back." *72 .CjUMB&IAJ? BALLAJX?. The btey.de wad dance ' Coddle me, Cuddy? A threesome then caper'd Scotch Reels ; Peter IVelr cle»k''i n;> au!d Mary Daltun, Leyke a cock round a hen neist he steals; Jwohn Bell velp'd out *. Sawerhy Lasses;' Young Jwosep, a lang .Country Dance, J3e'd gpt his new pumps Smithson meade him-. And fain wad shew how he cud prance. To march round the town, and keep swober, The women fwok thought was but reet; ** Be wise, dui, for yence /" says Jwohn Dyer; The breydegruim mud reyde shouder heet : The youngermak lurried ahint them, Till efter them Bell meade a brek ; Tom Ridley was aw baiz'd wi' drinkin, And plung'd off the steps i' the beek. T& ITud/esss now off they sizeii'd, And there gat far mair than eneugh ; Miller Hodgon suin brunt the punch ladle, And full'd ev'ry glass wid his leuf ; He thought he was teak in his mouter, And deil a bit conscience has he ; They preym'd him wi T stiff punch and joUirp* Till Sally- Scolt '.thought lie. wad dee, Joe SiM r* oar'd out, " Bin, ice've duin vbohdert f " Our Slaffy's ttiru'd howe i' the weame !" Wi' three strings atweeri them, the fiddlers' Strack up, and they reel'd towerts hestnife ; Meyner Leylle wad now hoist a stdndert, Peer man ! he cud nit daddle far, But stuck in a pant buin the middle, And yen tuik him heame in a car. For dinner, we'd stew'd geu9e, attd haggish, Cow'd-leady, and het bacon pye* Boil'd fluiks, tatey-hash, beastin puddin, Saut salmon, and cabbish ; forby Pork, pancakes, black puddihs, 6heep trotters, And custert, and mUstert, and veal, Grey-pez keale, and lattg apple dumplins:— I wish ev'ry yen far'd as weel ! The breyde, geavin aw roun about her, Cries, " fTunsf tee forgat butter sops ! n The breydegruirn fan rtae time for talkin, But wi' stannin pye greas'd his ehops. We'd loppar'd milk, skim'd milk, and kurn'd milk, Well watter, smaw beer, aw at yence; " Sliaff! bring yell in piggensf" rwoars Dakon, " Deil tek them e'er cares for expence I" 174 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. Now aw cut and cleek'd frae their neybors, 'Twas even down thump, pull and haul; Joe Head gat a geuse aw together, And off he crap into the faul : Muckle Nanny cried, " S/tem o' sec weaslry /" The ladle she brak owre ill Bell; Tom Dalton sat thrang in a corner, And eat nar the weight of his sel. A hillibuloo was now started, 'Twas, " Rannigal! whee cares for tee ?" " Stop, Tommy ! Whe's wife was i' th' carrass ? '« Tou'd ne'er been a man, but for me !" " Od dang thee !" — " To jail I cud send thee, " Veer scraffles /"— " Thy Ian grows nae gurse." " Ne'er ak ! it's my awn, and it's paid for — " But whea was't stuil auld Tim Jwohn" purse ?'* Ned Bulman wad feght wi' Gworge Goffet, Peer Gwordy he nobbet stript thin, And luik'd leyke a cock out o' fedder, But suin gat a weel-bleaken'd skin ; Neist, Sanderson fratch'd wid a hay-stack, And Deavison fught wi' the whins; Smith Leytle fell out wi' the cobbles, And peel'd aw the bark off his shins. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 175 The bay-bay was now somewhat seyded, And young fwok the music men miss'd, They'd dtucken leyke fiddlers in common, And fawn owre a\ont an aul kist; Some mair fwok that neet were a-missin, Than Wully, and Jonathan Strang — But Decency whispers, " What matter ! '* Tou munnet put them in the sang !" Auld Dalton thought he was at Carel, Says he, " Jacob! see whafs to pay! " Come, wosler ! heaste — get out the horses, " We'll e en teake the rwoad, and away!'" He cowp'd off his stuil, leyke a sun bag, Tom Ridley beel'd out, " Deil may care !" For a quart o' het yell, and a stick in't, Dick Simson '11 tell ye far mair. Come, bumper the Cummerlan lasses, Their marrows can seldom be seen ; And he that won't feght to defend them, I wish he may ne'er want black een ! May our murry-nccts, clay-daubins, races, And tveddins, aye finish wi' glee; And when ought's aniang us, worth nwotish, Lang may I be present to see ! *8$^ by various autjjprs, Some of which have been NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED. BALLAD LXXVL JOE AND NED. BY MISS BLAMIRE. Tune, — " Ranting, roaring Willy. JOE. " WEY, Ned, man ! thou luiks sae down-hearted, Yen wad swear aw thy kindred wer dead : For a sixpence thy Jen and thee's parted, What then, man, ne'er bodder thy htad ! There's lasses enew, I'll upod te, And thou may be suin as weel match'd; There's ay as guid fish i' the river, As ouie that ever wer catch'd." M 178 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. NED. " O, Joe ! tou kens nought o' the matter, Sae let's ha'e nae mair o' thy jeer; Auld England's gown's worn till a tatter, And they'll nit new don her, I fear: True liberty never can flourish, 'Till man in his reets is a king, 'Till we tak a tythe-pig frae the bishop, As he's duin frae us, is the thing." JOE. " What, Ned ! and is that aw that ails thee ? Mess, lad, tou deserves maist to hang — What, tek a bit Ian frae its oaner ! Is this, then, thy feyne Reets o' Man? Tou ploughs, and tou sows, and tou reaps, man, Tou gangs, and tou comes where tou will ; Jfowther king, Iword, or bishop dare touch thee, Sae lang as tou dis fwok nae ill." NED. '* How can te say sae, Joe — tou kens now, If hares wer as plenty as hops, I durstn't fell yen for my life, man, Nor tekt out of auld Cwoley's chops ; While girt fwok they ride down my dikes aw, And spang o'er m\ fields o' new wheat, Nought but ill words 1 »■<■< for the damage — Can onie Yen tei! me tlr.it' s reel?" CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 179 JOE. ** Aye, there I mun oan the shoe pinches, Just there to fin faut is nae shame ; Ne'er ak ! there's nae hard laws in England, Except that bit thing about Game : And wer we aw equal at mwornin, We cudn't remain sae till neet ; Some arms are far stranger than others, And some heads will tek in mair leet. Tou cud'nt mend laws, if tou wad, man, It's for other-guess noddles than thine; Lord help thee ! sud beggars yence rule us, They'd tek off beath thy cwoat and mine : What is't then, but law that stands by us, While we stand by country and king ? Tor as to bein parfet and parfet. I tell thee, there is nae sec thing." 180 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. BALLAD LXXVII. FORBES's GREEN. BY A LADY. Tune,—" The lads o' Dunse." AND auld Robin Forbes hes gien tem a dance ! I pat on my speckets, to see them aw prance ; I thought o' the days when I was but fifteen, And skipp'd wi' the best upon Forbes's Green : Of aw things that is, I think thought is meast queer, Tt brings that that's by-past, and sets it down here; I see Willy as plain as I dui this bit leace, When he tuik his cwoat lappet, and deeghted bis feace. The lasses aw wonder'd what Willy cud see, In yen that was dark and hard-featur'd leyke me; And they wonder'd ay mair, when they talk'd o' my wit, And slily telt Willy, that cudn't be it : But Willy he langh'd, and he meade me his weyfe, And whea was mair happy thro' aw his lang leyfe ? It's e'en my great comfort, now Willy is geane, That he ofFen said, Nea pleaoe was leyke his awn heanie. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 131 I mind when I carried my wark to yon steyle, Where Willy was deykin, the teyme to beguile, He wad flin^ me a daisy to put i' my breast, And I hammer'd my noddle to mek out a jest : But merry or grave, Willy often wad tell, There was nin o' the leave that was leyke my awn sel; And he spak what he thought, for I'd hardly a plack, When we married, and nobbet ae gown to my back. When the clock had struck eight, I expected him heame, And wheyles went to meet him, as far as Dumleane ; Of aw hours it telt, eight was dearest to me, But now when it streykes, theie's a tear i' my e'e. O, Willy ! dear Willy ! it never can be, That sure, time, or death, can divide thee and me; For that spot on the earth, that's ave dearest to me, Is the turf that has cover'd my Willy Frae rue. fejdSS % : <-f' 182 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. BALLAD LXXVIII. Love in Cumberland. BTT MR. MARK LONSDALE. Tune,—" Cuddle roe, Cuddy. r W4,' Jwohn, what'n mannishment's 'tis, 'At tou's gawn to dee for a hizzy ? Aw hard o' this torrable fiss, An' aw's cum't to advise tha', — 'at is ee. Mun, thou'U nobbet Iwose tee gud neame, Wi' gowlin and whingin sae mickle ; Cockswunters ! min beyde about heame. An' let her e'en ga' to auld Nickle. Thy plew-geer's aw liggin how-strow, An' somebody's stown thee thy couter; Oh faiks, thou's duin little 'at dow, To fash theesel iver about her. Your Seymey 'as broken ear stang, An' mendit it wid a clog-coaker ; Pump-tree's geane aw wheyt wran^, An' they've sent for aul Tom Stawker. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 183 Youag filly's dung owre the lang stee, An' leam'd peer Andrew th' theeker ; Tliee mudder wad suffer't for tee, An aw hadn't happ'n't to cleek her. . Thou's spoilt for aw manner o' wark; T'ou nobhet sits peghan an' pleenan ; Od«.wucke. man ! doff that durty »ark, Au' pretha, gi'e way, git a clean an ! An' then gow to Carel wi' me ; Let her gang to Knock-cross wid her scwornin; Sec danken at market we'll see, A'll up'od ta' forgit her or mwomin ! — »sft*V^£$i£%^&^**^- BALLAD LXXIX. Smig at the Cumberland Anniversary Meeting, London, April 14th, 1785. BY EWAiV CLARKE. I KEST off my clogs, hung th' kelt cwoat on a pin, An it's nobbet a play !" But aw that was naethin^, for monie wer blinded, Aud Jemmy, that bra^s aw the town for a feght, He twistet and twirlt — it was j;i»t for an oiT-put, But aw wadn't dui, for hg gowl'd hewf the ntet. CUMBRIAN BALLADS. 195 And Betty Mac Nippen, and five of her dowters, A- fevne ax iVfay s*a lans, were clwose at my back ; I was flayt they wart hinder fwok hear aw the speech- ing, But they gowl'd sec a gud'n, that nin o' them spak : And Bettv lies heard frae her sister in T,nnnon, And she's sent the bairns sec a mwort o' feyne things, That if Betty Mac Nippen wad mek tern stage players, She cud fit tern out, ay leyke queens or leyke kings. Then down-the-brow Wully tuik up his cwoat lappet, And held til his een, for he's given to jeer; But I had it frae yen that was even fornenst him, 'Twas weel for his sel, his cwoat lappet was near. Oh — Venus perserv'd was the neame o' the actin, And Jajjer was him hed the beautiful weyfe; Tho' I gowl'd aw the teyme, it's a wonder to tell on't, I niver was hawf sae weel pleas' d i' my leyfe! 1$6 CUMBRIAN BALLADS. BALLAD LXXXV. The Peel-cadger s Lament. Tune, — " HeytuUytatty. n Or, " Burma's, tfanwee/ to Jean." MY bonny black meer's deed ! The thought's e'en leyke to turn my head ! She led the peets, and gat me bread ; But what wull 1 dui now? She was bworn when Jwohn was bworn, Just ninteen years last Thuirsday mwoai; Puir beast ! had she got locks o'cwom> She'd been alive, 1 trow ! When young, just leyke a deil she ran; The car-geer at Durdar she wan; Thar day saw me a happy man, No v tears gush frati my e'e : For she's peane, my weyfe's g,t in the mire, in order to save (*hat is certainly of greater consequence to a breathing morta.) his carcase. note vr. Oh* sec a weddm Vve blen at .'] The day of mar- riage is in all countries a day of festivity: because the married state is supposed to bring an addition to our domestic happiness, perhaps greater than a cy- nical old bachelor will allow. Among the plebeians of Cumberland the whole day glides away amidst music, dancing, and noisy revelry. Early in the morning, the bridegroom, at- tended by a select partv of his friends, and mounted on horseback, proceeds to the house of the bride, where they breakfast. As noon as this repast is finish- ed, the bride makes a silent retreat, and arranges every ringlet. After she has paid this attention to her person, she joins the nuptial party, who proceed in a regular cavalcade towards the church, accompa- nied by a fiddler, who plays a succession of tunes correspondent to the festivity of the occasion, till they reach holy ground. As soon as the connubial knot is tied, the company proceed to some neighbouring ale-house, where many a flowing bumper of home- brewed ale is quailed to 'lie i;callh <>:' the married 208 NOTES'. couple. Animated with earthly neetar, they gallop full spred towards the bride's habitation, where r hand kerchief is presented to the person who shall first reach the goal. When the dinner, which consists generally of beef, bacon, pies, and puddings, is placed upon the board, every individual in the party carves for himself, and loads his trencher with a mess of provisions, which many men, in these degenerate days, would consider as a sufficient burden for the back. After dinner the spirits of the company receive an additional elevation fh'om copious potations of ale and whisky, from the muMC of the village-minstrel, from the song and the dance. The effects of the liquor soon discover them- selves in the clamorous tongue and roseate phiz of every rustic, which resembles a rising moon in all her glory. In the evening a general pugilistic contest (the eommon consequence of intemperate cups) usually commences, presenting a scene worthy of the pencil of a Hogarth. About midnight, or as soon as peace is established among the belligerent parties, the bride retires to her bed-chamber, and, while she undresses herself, deli- vers a stocking to one of her female attendants, who throws it among the company, and the person on which it lights, will, it is suppo&ed, be next married. NOTES. iOf NOTE VII. Deil bin/] A common mode of swearing among the Cumberland clowns. — It is Certainly a testimony of the refined manners, if not of the improved morals of the age. that oaths are banished from ail polite circles, and are only to be found among the dregs of the commonalty. NOTE VIII. T teas sehenteen last Collop-Munday.] The first Mnu m;ik;n^ ihe destinies smile upon the fu- ture, are turtiuened with gaols, stocks, and pillories ! NOTE xr. Nuw, Kate, full forty years hrfe flown.] We ha'e here a venerable couple enjoying tranquillity in their" oid age, after a severe struggle with the disasters of life. But though their youth had been pressed down with many distresses, and had been embarrassed with many difficulties, they could vet look back upoa it with satisfaction, because it had been innocent, and recal to mind, without pain, the daily toils they had undergone, in providing lor the wants of an infant family ; because they could behold that family, which they had cherished with so much affection, acting their parts with credit on the stage of life, and re- paying, with filial pietv, the numerous favour.-) which parental affection had conferred upon tlicm. The example of this aged couple may be proposed «s a model of conduct to that purt of the community (> J 212 NOTE!. whose lot is labour. Under all their necessities, dif- ficulties and hardships, let them persevere in a faith- ful discharge of their duties, — and remember that virtue will ultimately triumph over every species of external distress : -" Ye ?ood distrest ! " Ye noble few ! who here unhendii « stand " Beneath life's pressure, yet bear up a while, " And your bounded view, which only saw " A little part, deeru'd evil, is no more : " The storms of wintry time will quickly pass, " And one unbounded spring encircle all." THOMSON. NOTE XII. The Tmpatient Lassff.] The passion of love, restrained l>y forms and ceremonies in the higher classes of society, breaks out in all its vehemence in the breast of a simple, uneducated country peasant. In him it is an instinct of nature, unchecked by de- licacy, and unrefined by sentiment. As if ashamed to acknowledge its dominion, he visits the object of his affections under the shades of night, and always on a Saturday, that the effects of the ni»ht's vigils might be done away by the holiday of the succeeding day. His fair one waits for him with all the impatient ardour of love, chides the loitering moments; and, should he not reach her habitation at the appointed hour, suffers all the anguish of foreboding fears : — some disas'.ious accident has befallen him, some cool- NOTES. 213 ness in his passion has taken place, some rival, with mort* t.eauty or mure address, has supplanted her in li is a lectio is. Apprehensions like these continue to ag.tate tier ho->om. lilt a tap at the window or door auuounces the arrival of her suitor. NOTE XIII. Oh. durst ire lasses nobhet gang.) In most countries the men m\ their addresse- to the women, and not the women to the men; and custom, that has such great influence over human actions, has given to this practice almost tiie force and sanction of a political regulation. Though man) local customs originate in accident, this however has its foundation in nature and in reason ; for what fair one, with all the reserve and delicacy natural to her sex, would venture to dis- close the secrets of her bosom on so tender a subject as ttiat of love? And if such be the constitutional timidity of the fair sex, let us space their blushes, by anticipating their wishes, and meeting with equal ar- dour that passion which modesty and custom only al- low them to discover by the silent language of the eye. NOTE XIV. Sit down, and 1 11 count owre my sweethearts.] To have a great variety of sweethearts, h, in the opinion of a simple country girl, a virtual acknowledgment of the predominating force of her charms ; ami sh« oel- 214 ROTES. dom discovers her error, till she finds herself neglect- ed by every man whose esteem would be valuable, and whose addresses would do her honour. Of so delicate a nature is female reputation, that the conduct of a young woman ought not only to be free from guilt, but also free from suspicion ; an'd surely her chastity may be disputed, who, without any regard to their character, conduct, and views, indiscriminately admits of the visits of various suitors. NOTE XV. To tli pocket-whole, &c] Tn this ballad poor Snip bears testimony to the effects of love by his blunders; and he who laughs at his imbecility, and can behold the charms of a lovely woman without emotion, must be something less, or something more, than man: — " For who can boast he never felt the fires, " The trembling - throbbings of the young: desires, " When he beheld the breathing roses glow, " And the soft heavings of the living snow ; " The waving ringlets of the auburn hair, " And all the rapt'rous graces of the fair > " Ah ! what defence, if lixt on him he spy " The languid sweetness of the steadfast eye !" LUSIAD. The charms of the fair have indeed in all a^es tri- umphed over the human breast. The piety of David and the wisdom of Solomon gave way when opposed to their force; and Julius Csesar, the conqueror of NOTES. 215 the world, forgot his fame and his victories in the arms of an Egyptian beauty. Even the mighty Her- cules threw, down his club with which he had achieved so man} arduous enterprizes, and became a humble suitor at ttie feet of an imperious fair one. NOTE XVI. 'Twas last 1 eady Fair, &c] This fair is held on Lady-day at Wigton; and, like other Cumbrian fairs, passes away amidst mirth, music, and dancing. NOTE XVII. WV Laird Hodgon, &c.] In Cumberland the ap- pellation of laird is applied to the proprietors of land- ed property, and to their eldest sous. Their oldest daughters are styled ladies. NOTE XVIII. For that was the pleace my gr anf adder teas bworn in.] A predilection for the [dace of our nativity is a patri- otic prejudice, that does honour to our feelings, and shews a heart formed lor receiving the best impres- sions, ltdisplavs itself in earlv life, and does not dimmish with years, with absence, with travel, or with distance. A Cumbrian mountaineer feels us uce, when, amidst the rudest semes of nature, lie contentedly sits down in Ins paternal col tage, takes his homely fare, sings his artless song, or joins in tie- dance. — 216 NOTES. '* Tho' poor the peasant's hut, his feasts tho' small, " He sees hjs little lot the lot of all; " Sees no contiguous palace rear its head, " To shame the meanness of his humble shed ; " No costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal, " To make him loath his vegetable meal ; " But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil, " Each wish contracting fits him for the soil." GOLDSMITH. In whatever distant country, or in whatever situa- tion of life, fortune may place us, we still remember with affection the place of our birth, and cheer the hours of absence with the hopes of returning to it, — of seeing again the companions of our early years, — and of revisiting those scenes that have been long en- deared to us by tender recollections. In what melt- ing strains of genuine pathos did Ovid break out, when, in those remote regions to which he was ba- nished, he recollected his country, his home, and his friends ! Et poena est patria sola car ere mea ! NOTE XIX. Tom Linton.] A man of licentious opinions and dissolute morals is considered, by his companions in guilt, as a liberal thinker, and as a man of spirit and gallantry ; but, to the virtuous and wiser part of the world, he appears as a timid and illiberal-minded w retell, callous to every honourable feeling, and as contracted in his understanding as he is depraved in NOTES. 217 his heart. It may seem strange that such a descrip- tion of men exist in a kingdom peculiarly distin- guished by the excellency of its constitution, its laws, and its religion. But if, among the great and illustrious characters which our country has product d, there may be found some wiio disgrace her. who tan help it? The soil that gives growth and vigour to the majestic oak, frequently nourishes the loathsome reptile. NOTE XX. The Happt Family] The numerous instances of domestic felicity, which we meet with a"mo".ig the lower classes of society, and the dissatisfaction and inquietude which so often prevail among the higher ranks, will convince us, that to acquire riches and distinction, is not to acquire contentment and happi- ness. With health, industry, and virtue, happy in his domestic relations, in his kindred, in his friends, with limited wishes, and all his thoughts at home, the poor man enjoys comforts which wealth cannot pur- chase, or rank confer. Every remove from his hum- ble, unambitious situation, would probably be so many removes from innocency and peace. Poverty, indeed, however supported by virtue, has its peculiar distresses; but what are its distresses to the paries felt by guilty affluence.'' On the innocent and uncorrupted heart gleams of comfort are conti- nually darting through the darkest shades of human life. 218 NOTES. NOTE XXI. Now monie a wife will weep for joy.] Peace brings so many blessings, and puts a period to so many cala- mities, that it can hardly be purchased by too great sacrifices. What pleasing sensations does it afford to a feeling and patriotic heart to hear the carol of joy and contentment in every village; to see domestic happiness res'ored to an afflicted family, by the re- turn of a husband, a father, or a favourite son; to be- hold the spirit of trade, commerce, and agriculture revive, and receive new energies; and to see wealth, plenty, and happiness diffused through the nation by a. hundred different channels! If such he the effects of peace, who can behold without a trar those guilty laurels which have been obtained in unjust wars, amidst scenes of blood and devastation, — amidst the widow's tears and the or ( jha.:'s cries ! NOTE XXU. I think o" my -playmates, &c] We always look back with pleasure on our early years, because at that pe- riod every object that surrounds us appears in gay and pleasing colours; our hearts are light, our a flec- tions warm, our hopes eager, and our pursuits ardent. In whatever part of the world we reside, we always feel a passionate desire to return to the spot where we passed the hours of our early life; to see again the companions of our childhood; to re-trace the NOTES. 219 scenes of our juvenile frolics ; to re-visit the greeh where we have sported, the shades under which we have reposed, and the banks where we often loitered. A modern poet, in describing the scenes where his early youth was passed, breaks out in the genuine language of poetry and of nature : " Ah, happy hills ! ah, pleasiug sha:^ ! " Ah, fields belov'd in vain ! ** Where once my careless childhood slray'd, " A stranger yet to pain ! " I feel the sales that from you blow " A moment -tv bliss bestow ^ " As, waving fresh their gludsonie wing, " My weary soul they seem to sooth, " And, redolent of j'>y and youth, " To breathe a second spring." GRAY. These tender feeling's, which exist in a more or less decree in every bosom, afford a~ melancholy attesta- tion, that the more we advance in life the more are our years louden with sorrow, with care, and with discontent ! NOTE XXIII. That farmers arc happier, &c] The poets, in their descriptions of human felicity, generally draw their images from pastoral life, because they suppose where there is simplicity there is also innocence and happiness. But when ue search in rural life for the original from which they draw their beautiful pictures, 220 NOTES. we search for what is not always to be found. We oiten see there vice in all its grossuess, and the tran- quillity ol Ife destroyed by the agitation of the pas- sions. With the ploughman's song and the shep- herd's lute we sometimes hear the murmurs of com- plaint, and the voice of discontent. — In every situa- tion the degree of happiness and misery will be found in proportion to the prevalence of virtue and vice. NOTE XXIV. Oh this iceanji weary irar/ /] Such will be the ex- clamation ol every one who has lived to that period of life when the powers of sensation are blunted, when wondly objects no longer attach the heart, and when those amusements which yave raptu e to youth can no iou^er please. V\ eighed down with infirmities and sorrow, and standing on the stage of life as a friendless, forlorn, insulated individual, the burden of an old man's sung must ever be, " Oh this weary, weary world 1" NOTE XXV. Lal Stephen.] The hero of this ballad seems to have been, from his multifarious accomplishments, the Creighton oi his village. Though diminutive in stature, yet his agility and prowess, his superior skill in rural occupations, and expertness at gymnastic exercises, highly exalted him in the eyes of his coun- trywomen, and gave him a reputation that was not NOTES. 221 so»n to decay ; and a clown is as proud of his rustic honours as a warrior is of his laurels, or a poet is of his bays. NOTE XXVI. To set me out a mile o' geate.] Sometimes a girl shews her affection to her lover by accompanying him a part of the road on his return home; and the ena- moured rustic usually repays thi? mark of regard by an increased love in his next visit to her. NOTE XXVII. At Carel J stolid iri a strae i my mouth.'] In Cum- berland, servants who are employed in husbandry are seMom en^a^ed for a longer term than half a year — On the rustomarv days of hiring, they proceed to the neare>t town. and. that their intentions miyht be known, stand in the marketplace with a sprig or straw in their months. NOTE XXVIII. Them ill reed-cwoaled fellows, &c] In every pro- f.-- on there are men who disgrace it. We cannot condemn in too seveie terms tho»e sergeants of re- cruiting parties who inlist their countrymen, when excess of drinking has deprived them of all rea.-on and reflection. To recruit our army, it is not neces- sary to have recourse to unjustifiable aits. There will never be wanting volunteers to (ill its ranks, as 222 NOTES. long as we know the value of that constitution which -secures to us our civil and religious liberties. NOTE XXIX. Matthew Macrf.e ] This noted rustic seems to have reached the pinnacle of village fame. He had recommended himself to the notice of the fair, like the knight errants in the times of chivalry, by the va- riety of Ins accomplishments. He excelled at run- ning, wrestling, leaping and boxmg. His Stentorian voice and sonorous sounds gained him the reputation of a singer and a scholar. And let no person despise Matthew Macree. He attained as much distinction as satisfied his ambition ; and what greater gratifica- tion do they receive who 'fill the world with their names ? NOTE XXX. I cant for the life o 1 me get her to work.] When love makes an attack upon us, he never grants us a truce tilt he has suodued the heart. He pursues us to our occupations, to our amusements, to our clo- sets, to our chambers. The whole mind i* engrossed by the object of our ailections, and nothing gives us pleasure but what has an immediate or indirect rela- tion to it ; while with the possession or loss of it we connect our happiness or misery. NOTES. 223 NOTE XXXI. Ay* lad! sec a mvrry-neet, &c] The common people in Cumberland, like the common people in all countries, have their festive scenes, in which they mingle with ardour, and forget awhile the toils, cares, and hardships peculiar to their stations. Amidst their coarse and homely pastimes thuir hearts exnand to 'jaiety, and receive more genuine gratification than is to be found among: tho.-e splendid amusements which the rich, the idle, and the dissipated have in- vented to diversify life, and remove that taedium, languor, and disquietude, which oppress a heart en- ervated by luxury, and corrupted by vice. A Cumbrian mekry-moht is, as its name imnorts, a night appropriated to mirth and festivitv. It takes place at some country aie-house, during the holidays of Christmas, a season iu which even Cumbrian pea- sant refuses to be governed by the cold and niggard- ly maxims of economy and thrift. That the quests might want nothing to cheer their hearts, the landlord of the house is careful to replenish his cellar with ale and spirits, as well as to p.ovide bread and cheese, pipes and tobacco, cards and music. The joung women, who are particularly fond of these diversions, and vvho are introduced to them by some friend, relation, or lover, have pics placed be- fore them : and that girl must be modest indeed who refuses to ta-/te of a luxury w hen u is within her reach. 824 NOTES. The company is divided into different parties, ac- cording to their different propensities, and to the different amusements to which they are attached. — They whose ruling passion is card-playing, seat them- selves in some apartment where they can obtain a comfortable fire and a commodious table. The sweet hearters retire to some snug, sequestered corner, where, unseen by any licentious eye, and unheard by any idle ear, they can breathe the vows and speak the soft language of love. They who are fond of dancing, enjov their diversion in the hou>e-loft. to which they ascend by means of stone steps or a lad- der. Its wails are generally very low ; but, as there is no ceiling, a very ta'l person may stand erect under its rnof. The dancers exhibit specimens of ag'.lity, rather than or skill ; and though their heads have of- ten stubborn rencounters with the beams and rafters of the building, they are seldom forsaken by either their spirits or their elasticity. The music is that of 1 he fiddle; and, if it be not so powerful as the minstrelsy of old tunes, which gave motion to stocks, trees, and stones, it may be truly said of it (and which is certainly no little praise) that it gives activity, if not grace, to the big, unwieldy limbs of a Cumbrian clown. They who love flowing bumpers seat themselves in the kitchen, or bower, where ■ " The dry divan " Close in tirm circle ; and el, ardent, in " For serious drinking." Thomson - . NOTES. 255 These are the jovial and legitimate sons of Bacchus, who know no other pleasures of life than that which is supplied by the bottle. He who wastes life in an ambitious pursuit of power or distinction, and the sordid wretch who starves amidst accumulated trea- sures, are alike the objects of his contempt and sa- tire. Even the "-whining lover," whose happiness or misery is produced by the smiles or the frowns of his mistress, betrays, in his opinion, a weak, despicable understanding, that hardly entitles him to a place in the scale of thinking beings. These boon compani- ons of the glass are the last lingering remains of these festive meetings, seldom departing till their roseate faces receive the reflection of the next day's sun. NOTE XXXII. IIoic mouie a scwore this angry neet.] The comforts that are found in a cottage often more than counter- balance the toils and hardships attending a life of po- verty. Happy in the society of his wife and family, blest with a healthy and vigorous constitution, indus- trious, temperate and innocent, what is there in the nature of things that can improve his condition ? — Whew he becomes dissatisfied, it is when he suffers his thoughts and imagination to roam among scenes of graudeur — among luxuries and expensive plea- sures — among the pompous pursuits and amusements of the great — all of which are but so many difi'er • uioditicalioiis of splendid misery. P 226 NOTES. NOTE XXXIII. 'Twas Rob and Jock, &c] The convivial meeting celebrated in this ballad, may vie, in many respei ts, with the most distinguished symposiums of Greece and Rome. Had old Atiacreon composed one of the party, with what rapture would he have surveyed the capacious vessel that contained a pool of liquor, of a superior quality to the famed nectar of the gods !— With what animation would he have shaken his hoary locks ! What a glow would all his features have re- ceived from the spirituous fluid ! And with what vi- gour would he have struck his lyre in its praise ! The party here alluded to were our author and a few jovial friends. Arihv, to whose comfortable cabin they were invited, is a well-known, industrious, and respectable tradesman — the scourge of pretend- ers, but the friend of humble merit : a man who pos- sesses the endearing qualities, benevolence of heart, and chearfulness of disposition. " By Nature form'd in her most sportive mood," He is one of the few who can put Care to the rout, make hjs friends happy, and keep the table in a, rear. R. A. no TE XXXIV. At loicn, kurli, market, &c] A beautiful country girl nfakes a swain feel the force of her charms wher- ever nhe beholds him : even " Sunu.iv shines no s:ih- NOTES. 227 bath-day to him." At his very devotion she points against him the artillery of her eve. In short, she attacks him in every place, and, what is still more cruel, when she has subdued his heart, often plays with his passion, refusing her hand to the man whose affections she has gained. She ou^ht, however, to ohserve, that a conqueror's glory is his lenity, and that her behaviour to her captives ought to be hu- mane, if not generous; and not like that of a heathen victor, who dragged them at the wheels of his tri- umphant chariot. NOTE XXXV. But as for Jicohnie, &c] In every Cumbrian vil- lage there is generally a rustic politician, who has established his political reputation among his coun- trymen by volubly discoursing on the state of the nation. At his leisure hours, he assembles a group of his neighbours round his fire-side, reads to them a provincial newspaper, comments upon every para- graph, reviews every transaction, points our all the errors of the ministry, and concludes by laying down a system of politics, which, in his opinion, would put the good things of life more within the reach of him and his countrymen, and enable them to dine and breakfast upon roast-beef and plumh-puddin"-, instead of cored livord and oatmeal pottage. 228 NOTES. NOTE xxxvr. The schuilmaistcrs a conjuror, &c] Few occupa- tions are attended with more labour and less profit than that of a country schoolmaster. In Cumber- land his income seldom exceeds thirty pounds a-year, for which he teaches forty or fifty scholars, during nine or ten hours of the day. If he be a single man, his stipend, with rigid economy, may be equal to his support ; but if he be married, and have a family, his distresses must be great indeed ! In some parts of Cumberland his situation is somewhat improved ; for he not only receives quarter-pence, but is provid- ed with victuals at the homes of his scholars, which he visits in succession. This ivhiule-gait (as it is called) subjects him however to the toil of travelling, as many of the houses, in which he is entitled to his victuals, are situated at a great distance from his school, and the roads to them scarcely passable dur- ing the winter season; but what difficulties cannot a rustic pedagogue, with a keen appetite and a vigor- ous constitution, overcome in pursuit of a dinner ? — Provided with an oaken staff, a pair of clogs, and a kelt surtout, he travels always with spirit and expe- dition to his kail and crowdy, unintimidated by the length of the road, or the tempestuousness of the weather. NOTES. 229 NOTE XXXVII. Our parson sai/s tre bang'd them still.) Nothing tends more to inspire valour than a knowledge of the achievments of our ancestors. A British soldier does not calculate the number of his enemies when he recalls to mind the battles of Crecy, Poictiers, and Agincourt. The study of history, particularly that of our own country, should therefore form an impor- tant part in the system of education. It will be the means of making us better patriots and better men; lor he must be lost to every honourable feeling, whose loya ty and patriotism do not kindle at the names of a Falkland and a Montrose. NOTE XXXV II I. The witch iceyfe begg'd in our baekscyde.] In Cum- berland, the word backside implies that space of ground which ties immediately behind the house; — but, it i's common acceptation, it conveys an idea lens rtjiucd, and is particularly apt, in the mouth of a rustic, to wound the delicate ear of a line lady, un- acquainted with its provincial signification. '• A plain Cumberland farmer, being called to London on some, law-business, took the opporluml} to v.iit his landlord, v\ho~>e residence was in Sprin^- 1 . :■.-;) ; but not tindutg him at home, lie entered into a chat, with hi- daughter, a fashions >le fine lad:, who very civilly shew; i huu all the hou.-e, and • i 230 NOTES. highly diverted with his remarks on every thing he saw. In the course of his survey honest Hodge, casually resting his hand upon a certain be-corked part of her dress, exclaimed with much simplicity, while he popped his head out of the window, — * The leevin surs, Miss! what a muckle backside you ha e gotten ! It cannot seerly be aw your awn f i. e. Won- derful, Miss ! what a spacious backside you have got- ten ! It cannot surely be all your own ? To this plain question a blush was the only answer which the lady returned." NOTE XXXIX. Aidd Grizzy the witch, &c] Such of the Cumbrian peasantry, whose ideas have not been enlarged by education, have a firm belief in witchcraft and necro- mancy ; and discover, in the person of every deform- ed old woman, a witch and a magician, whose favour they are anxious to conciliate, and whose vengeance they are solicitous to avert. If poor Hodge fall from his cart, and dislocate his neck; if he be wilderedon some dreary moor; if some contagious distemper de- stroy his cattle, or some pestilential sickness afflict his family ; in short, all the calamities and misfor- tunes that visit him or his neighbours, are imputed to her infernal incantations. NOTE XL. Whea was t that Irak our lanlword garth? To pil- lage a yardeu or an orchard is generally considered NOTES. Q31 as a venial fault in a school-boy, and even praise is bestowed on the spirit with which the enterprise is executed. But certainly every tendency to vice can- not be too soon corrected, as a disposition to virtue cannot be too soon formed. NOTE XLT. My Gtcordie's whussle tveel I ken.~\ A life of severe labour does not depress the spirits of a peasant. On his return to his cottage, after the toils of the day are over, he makes the woods and valleys vocal with his song, and " the maid of his heart" is generally the theme of his praise ; happy if his notes catch her ear, and happier still if they be heard with partiality, and incline her to meet with equal ardour the passion that dictated them. NOTE XLII. J tnind what, &c] The pleasures which the aged enjoy are mostly supplied by memory. Amidst their increa^im; infirmities, they dwell with peculiar de- light on the days of their youth, — on those happy hours when every object seemed gilded in the bright- est colours, — when the heart was light, and all around them joy and festivity. They are fond of recounting their juvenile frolics, exploit*, and adventures; and, when they are the narrators of their own actions, a partiality for the subject ,^eutTallv leads to a minute- 232 NOTES. ness of detail that would weary every ear, except that of garrulous old age. NOTE XLIII. Come, gies thy hand, Gabey/] Modern friend- ships are for the most part rather nominal than real ; they profess much, but mean nothing. Their lan- guage never comes from the heart. It is formal and ceremonious, breaks out in fulsome compliments and extravagant panegyric, and applies nearly the same set of phrases to the genius and to the dunce, to the wise and the foolish, to the virtuous to the vicious. NOTE XLIV. Our Ellek likes fat bacon iceel.] There* is nothing fastidious in the appetite of a Cumbrian rustic. His repast at noon generally consists of a crowcly. a coicd- licord, and a piece of bacon. If the bacon be boiled, he sups the broth ; if fried, he pours the melted fat among his potatoes. — A cow'd-lword is a cant name for a kind of pudding composed of oatmeal, tallow, suet, and hOg's-lard, which, to a rustic palate, is always a luxurious dish. A croivdy is composed of oatmeal and the marrow of beef or mutton bones, and is the introductory dish that takes off something from the keenness of a ploughman's appetite. When potatoes solely constitute the dinner, the me>s is more than usually la.rtje. Alter boiling some time, thev are beaten and m::>-hed bv a club-headed NOTES. 233 wooden instrument, called a tatoe-chopper, and the whole mass placed upon a platter. In the centre of this fuming pile is a cavity filled with melted butter, or the fat of bacon, into which every one at table merges his spoon or knife loaden with potatoes. The breakfast and supper generally consist of thick pottage, a kind of food made of oatmeal and water, and boiled till it becomes a viscous mass. — The ge- neral bread of the peasantry is composed of barley fermented with douoh, and baked in an oven. In the parts bordering on Scotland a sort of barley and oat- cakes, called scons and Lanuocks, are used. NOTE XLV. O, Wull y ! had ton nobhet been at Burgh Races/ — Some villages in Cumberland have their annual horse races. The prize is commonly a saddle or a bridle, and the horses that run for it are the property of the neighbouring lairds and fanners, ami, without any prt viou« discipline, are brought f.om the plough or cart to the course. When the race is finished, the country lads proceed with their sweethearts to the village a!e-hou-e, where they dance, sing, and drink, and talk over the adven- tures oi' the day. The races celebrated in this ballad took place on the 3d of May, 1804, at Bi\>ugh, or Burgh, a village in the neignbouriiood of Carlisle, uhe:e our warlike Edward died on an expedition that was (o de :ide thr 234 NOTES. fate of Scotland. The prize was a silver cup, given by Lord Lowther, which, besides its intrinsic value, 50l. conferred an honour on the winner, equal at least to the garland of wild olive, worn by the victors at the Olympic games. NOTE XLVr. There was, * How fens te, Tommy?' &c. When an honest Cumbrian rustic meets an acquaintance, he addresses himself to him by the warm interrogatory, « How fens te?' i. e. How fares it with 3*ou in respect to health ? If the person to whom the question is ad- dressed be in a good state of health, the reply is, ' Fs gaily ;' i. e. I am in good health and spirits. NOTE XLVII. Man thysel, Jemmy/] Before the company depart from country horse-races, a stubborn contest with fists usually commences, in which the rustic warriors are animated by the praises of their sweethearts. . Sometimes a courageous rural dame takes an active part in the battle, and brings succour to her fainting lover by directing, with the vigour of an amazon, a few desperate blows against the nose of his antago- nist. NOTE XLVJIL J pecp'd through the windoic, &c] The windows of many farm-houses in Cumberland are without NOTES. 235 shutters, and some of them without curtains ; — so, during a winter night, while the fire is cheerfully- blazing, the whole family, and every part of the kit- chen and furniture, are revealed to the sight of every idle eves-dropper. The honest sweetheart, however, when he pays his nocturnal visit to his dulcinea, peeps through the glass with no other view than of gratify- ing his sight with the looks and motions of the fair object of his affections, happy if he find no rival participating in her smiles and conversation. NOTE XLIX. Peer Dinah Duflon, &e.] It must be an insensible heart that does not feel for the fate of those unfortu- nate females who have been seduced from the paths of virtue and innocence, by the artifices of a set of men who are the disgrace of their country, and the pests of society. — The crime of seduction has spread general misery. It has even filled rural life, (from which the poets of all ages have drawn their finest image* of felicity,) with complaint, disease, a;id wretchedness; and if such be its effects, he is no friend to his country who does not wish that some effectual check were put to it. NOTE L. Says Ned, says lie, the thhnmel g'ie me.] A village swaih endeavours to ingratiate himself into the favour of his sweetheart bv making her such presents as are 236 NOTES. within the reach of his humble circumstances, such as handkerchiefs, ribbons, gloves, thimbles, beads, &c. — In all ranks of life, the cold virtue of saving- ness gives way to the warmth of love. NOTE LI. There was ill gusty Jemmy, the cocker 6" Codbeck.] A cocker is a character that a humane mind will al- ways contemplate with disgust. The diversion which he is fond of can only gratify a heart lost to virtue and divested of feeling, or attract an understanding fee- ble, and barren of ideas. When we see the profli- gate and squalid crowds that attend a country cock- light, we cannot but feel lor the honour of human na- ture, and regret that a practice, wh cli has su> h a direct tendency to brutaiize the heart, should be suffered to prevail in a country which can boast of the mildest government and the purest religion. NOTE LI I. But canny an Id Cummerlan, &c] The traveller, whose object is amusement, and not the acquisition of money, may gratify his passion by a tour through Cumberland. Scenes of picturesque beauty will every-where present themselves to his eye. Keswick, where mountains, rocks, precipices, and cataracts are contrasted with peaceful vales and placid lakes, has been justly called " The Elysium of the North ;" for if elysium is to be found upon earth, it must sanely KOTES. 237 be in that happy vale, which Nature has so peculiarly distinguished by her bounties, and surrounded with such rich and magnificent scenery; and where may be found a race of men leading happy and peaceful lives, strangers to the follies and unagitated by the passions that fill the rest of the world with crimes and misery. NOTE LIU. We've Corby, &c] Corby Castle, by far the most delightful situation in Cumberland (perhaps in the North), standsonthe banks of Eden, four miles from Carlisle. Its hanging woods of various hues, hoarse murmuring streams, stupendous rocks, echoing cells, and extensive walks, have so often been the traveller's tlieme, that any attempt at minute description might justly be deemed vanity in our author. The present Owner, Henrt Howard, Esq. has long been adding beauties t» a place, where Nature seems to say, Behold me, man, in all my wild attire ! And while he, from every manly, patriotic, and virtu- ous principle, enjoys the confidence of the highest circles, his amiable lady is the idol of the tenantry and neighbouring villagers ; Softening the paries of sickius*, want, and sorrow, While thousands rum seek in \aper, and sometimes taken verbally from the mouth of the party con- cerned. This latter mode, in the tone and dialect of an old formal psalm-singer, produces often a very cu- NOTKS. %43 rious effect, as is exemplified in the following noticq, actually delivered a few years ago at the door of Stan- wix church, near Carlisle: — Clerk. — Hoa-a-z-yes !-— This is to give nwotice, that there is to he, on Wednesday neist, at — (VVhen ?) Man. — Twelve. Clerk. — Twelve of the clock precisely — (Whar?) Man. — Linstock. Clerk. — At Linstock, near Rickar-by, a sale of — (What?) Man. — Esh for ear-stangs. Clerk. — A sale of esh-wood — for car-stangs; and if any body wants to ken aught mair about it, they noun apply to— (Wheay ?) Man. — Thomas Dobson. Clerk. — Thomas Dobson, clerk of Stanwix; that is, Mister. — (Any thing mair?) Man. — Nay, that's aw. Clerk. — Wa' then, God save the King ! — (How fend ye, Mister Ritson ? how fend ye?) " This manner of making a public proclamation through the medium of a prompter, is by no means modern ; it occurs exactly in the second scene of the third act of " The New hni" by Ben Johnson," NOTE LX1II. The lads ruhh'd iter don-r, ?."/' pez-straeJ] A Cum- brian girl, when her lovvr pioves unfaithful to her, is, Q • 244 NOTES. by way of consolation, rubbed with pease-straw by the neighbouring lads; and when a Cumbrian youth loses his sweetheart, by her marriage with a rival, the same sort of comfort is administered to him by the lasses of the village. END OF THE NOTES. GLOSSARY". ABED, in bed Abuin, above Ae, one Advisin, advising A f wore, before A-fit, on foot Agean, against Ahiut, behind A-horse, on horseback Al, to be indisposed Aikton, a village near W igton Ajy, awry Alans;, along Ally blaster, allabaster Amanij, among Ambrie, pantry Anent, opposite Anunder't, under it Anudder, another A ion ii, around As-buitd, ashe>-board ; a box in which allies are carried 'At, contraction of thqt Atomy, skeleton Atween, between Auld, old Auutv, aunt Aw, all Awn, own Ax, to ask Ay! expression of wonder Ayont, beyond B ' Bacco, tobacco Bairns, children Bandy Ian, a female of bad character Bang, to beat ; an action of haste, as, he com in wV a bang Baith, both Bane, bone Bailies, bailiffs Bannocks, bread made of oatmeal, thicker than common cakes Backseyde, the yard be- hind a house Bashfu', ba&hful Batter, dirt Bawk, a cross beam Behint, behind Beiu, being Bet, a wager; beat Bettenner, better Beyde, to endure, to stay Belder, to ueliow, vocifr- ra i e BeUh, to emit wind from the stomach Biggin, building 246 CLOSSART. Bit, a &rnall pjece Biily, brother Bizen, (see shem) Bieaken'd. blackeifd Blate, bashful Bieer-e'e'd. blear-ey'd Bleets, blights Bleckell, Blaekwell, a vil- lage near'Carlisle Blin, blind Biuid, blood Bluim, bloom Blaw, blow Blusteration, the noise of a braggart Boggle, hobgoblin Bout, a turn ; action Bodder, bother Bowt, bought Bonnie, pretty Bow-hough'd, having crooked houghs Biack, broke Brag, boast Braid, broad Bran new, quite new Brat, a. coarse apron Bray, to beat Bravely, in a good state of health Breer, briar Breet, bright Brees'd, bruis'd B reeks, breeches Breyde, bride Brig, bridge Brong, brought Brunt, burnt Brulliment, *broil Brast, burst Buin, above Buits, boots Bumm'd, struck ; beat Buuc'd, an action of haste, as, he buncd in amang us Buck up, to subscribe Butter-shag, a slice of bread spread with butter Butter-sops, wheat or oat- en bread, soaked in melted butter and su- gar Bworn, born Bwor'd, bor'd Bygane, bygone ; past Byre, cow-hou6e Cabbish, cabbage Carl', chaff Cairds, cards Caiel, Carlisle Canny, decent looking, well marie Capper, one who excels Car, cart Cartas, a shade or cart- house, wherein carts are kept Cat-witted, silly and con- ceited Ceyder, cider Chap, a gt-neral term for man, used either in a manner of respect or contempt GLOSSARY. 247 Chawk, chalk Cheyde, chide Chiel, a young fellow Chimley, chimney Chops, mouth Claes, cloaths Clashes, tale-bearers Clarty, miry Claver, to climb Clogs, a sort of shoes, the upper part of strong hide leather, and the soles of birch or alder, plaited with iron Cleed, to cloath Cleek, to catch as with a hook Click-clack, the noise that the pendulum of a clock makes iu its vi- brations. Clink, a blow Ciipt din men t, a thin, . mean-looking fellow Clipt and heel'd, proper- ly dressed, like a cock prepared to fight Clive., clever Ciuif, a blow Co , come or came Cockin, cock-fighting Corker, a feeder or lighter of CO' ks Com. caine Corp, corpse Cow'd-lword, a pudding made of oamicui and suet Cowp, to exchange Cowt, colt Crack, to chat, to chal- lenge, to boast, or do any thing quickly, I's dui't in a crack Crackets, crickets Crammel, to perform a thing awkwardly Crap, crept Creyke, creek Cronie, an old acquaint- ance Croft, a field behind the house Crouse, lofty, haughty Cruds, curds Cruin, to bellow, to hum a tune Cud, could Cuddy Wulson,Cuthbert Wilson Cuil, cool Cu in merian, Cumberland Cunn'd, counted Curley pow, curled head Cursiuiu, christening Cursty, Christopher Cursmas, Christmas Curtchey'd, curtsey 'd Cutty, short Cutteu, cul down Cutter'd, whisper'd Cwoach, coach Cwoals, coals C wo.it, coat Cwoley, a farmer's or sheplieid's uolj C" o-e-nouse, L'orse- house 248 GLOSSARY. D Daddle. hand Daft, half wise, some- times wanton Daggy, drizzly Dander, to hobble Darrak, a day's labour Dapper, neatly dressed Darter, active in perform- ing a thing Dawstoners, inhabitants of Dalston, a village near Carlisle De, do Deame, dame Deavie, David Ded, or deddy, father Dee, to die Deeins, doings Deef, deaf De'd bin, devil take Deet, died ; to clean J}eeth, death Deetin, winnowiug corn Deyl'd, mop'd, spiritless Deyke, hedge Diddle, to hum a tune Dis, does Dispert, desperate Dihsnius, a distance in horse-racing, the 8th part of a mde Divvent, do not Don**, to undress Don, to dress Donnet, an ill-disposed woman Downo, cannot, i. e. when one has the power, but wants the will to do any thing Dowter, daughter Douse, jolly, or sonsy- looking person : accord- ing to others, solid, grave, and prudent Dozen'd, spiritless and impotent Dub, a small collection of stagnant water Dubbler,a wooden platter Dui, do Duir, door Duin, done Dud, did Duds, coarse cloaths Dunch, to strike with the elbows Dunnet, do not Dungowre, knocked over Duntem, broil, hubbub Durtment, any thing use- less Dust, durdem, one of the many provincial names for money Dwoated, doated E Ee, eye Een, eyes Efter, after Eicy, Alice Eleeben, eleven Ellek, Alexander En, end GLOSSARY. 249 Eneugh, enough Eshes, ash-trees Fadder, father Famish, famous Fan, found, felt Fash, trouhle Fares-te-weel, fares-thee- well Fau't, fault Faul, farm-yard Faw, fall Feace, face Feale, fail Feckless, feeble, wanting effect Feght, fight Fettle, order, condition Feyne, fine Fit, foot, fought Fin, to find, to feel Flacker'd, fiutter'd Flay, fright, to fright Fleek, flitch Flegmagaries, useless fripperies of female dress Fluir, or fleer, floor Flyre, to laugh Font, foolish Forfov, besides Forrtt, forward Fou, full Fowt, a fondling Frae, from Frase, fray Fratch, quarrel, to quar- rel Freeten'd, frighten'd Freet, to grieve Fremufd, strange Frostit, frosted Frow, a worthless woman Fuil, fool Furbelows, useless silks, frills, or gauzes, of a female dress Furst, first Fuss, bustle Fwoal, foal Fworc'd, forc'd Fwolk, folk Fwurm, a form, a bench G Ga, to go Gaen, gone Gam, game Gamlers, gamblers Gammerstang, a tall awk- . ward person, of a bad gait Gang, to go; a confede- rated company of infa- mous persons Gar, to compel Garth, orchard or garden Gat, got Gate, road or path Gawn, going Gayshen, a smock-faced, silly-looking person Gear, wealth, money, the tackling of a cart or plough Gev, gave Git, get 250 GLOSSARY. Girn, grin Girt, great Gliff, glance Glyme, to look obliquely, squint Glowre, to stare Glump'd, gloom'd Gob, mouth Gowd i' gowpens, gold in handfuls Gowk, the cuckow ; a thoughtless, ignorant fellow, who harps too long on a subject Gowl, to weep Graen, to groan Graith'd, dressed, accou- tered Grandideer, grenadier Grandy. grandmother Granfadder, grandfather Granson, grandson Greace, grace Greave, grave Greymin, a thin covering of snow Grousome, grim Greype, a three-pronged instrument for the pur- pose of cleaning cow- houses Gulder, to speak amaz- ingly loud, and with a dissonant voice 'Gully, a large knife "Guff", a fool Guid, m><>d Gurdle, the iron on which cakes are hukcd Gwordie, George H Hack'd, won every thing Ha'e, have Hale, whole Hallan, partition wall Hantel, large quantity Hankitcher, handkerchief Hap, to cover Hardleys, hardly Hauld, hold, shelter Havey-scavey, all in con- fusion Hawflin, a fool Haw, hall Hawf, half Havver, oats Hay-bay, hubbub Heaste, haste Hetlier-fac'd, rough-fac'd 11 ee, high Het, hot Head-nark, head-ach Helter, halter Hed, had . lies, has 11 ev, have Hirpled, limped Hinmost, hindmost Hmg, hang Hinney, honey llizzv, huzzy Hod,' hold llout ! pshaw ! Hotch, shake; to shake. Mowdey, a midwife Hug, to s(|ueeze llur, her GtOSSARY. <951 flulk, a lazy, clumsy fel- low Hursle, to raise tip the shoulders Hunsup, scold ; quarrel I', contract, in Ilk, or ilka, every I's, contract. I am It 'II, contract, it will Ither, other Indie, East Indies Iver, ever Jaw, mouth Jant, jaunt Jen, or Jenny, Jane Jeybe, jibe Jobby, or Jwosep, Joseph Jwoke, jdke John, or Jwohnie, John K Keale, broth Ken-guid, the example by which we are to learn what is good Keave, to give an awk- ward wavering motion to the body Keek, to peep Ken, to know Kith, acquaintances Kittle, to tickle Kuop, a larye tub Kurk, church Ku ■ k-garth, church-vard Ku ii, chum ; to churn Kye, cows , lady Leame, lame Leate, late Leane, alone Leet, to meet with ; to alight Leetsoine, lightsome Ledder, to beat Lee, a lie Leeve,' live Leather-te-patch, n plunging step in a Cumberland dunce Lig, to lie • Leethet' la-s, Lewth- waite'u lass 252 GLOSSARY. Lissen, to listen Lish, active, genteel Lonnin, a narrow lane leading from one vil- lage to another Lock, a small quantity Loff, offer Loft, the upper apart- ment of a cottage Lout, an awkward clown Lowe, flame Lowes, to untie Lowp,aleap; to leap Lug, pull ; to pull Lugs, ears Luik, look ; to look Luim, loom Luive, love Lunnon, London Lurry, to pull Lwosers, losers Lword, lord Lythey, thick M Mair, more Maister, master Maist, most Mak, make; to make Mant, to stutter Maks, sorts Mangrel, mongrel Man thysel, act with the spirit of a man Mappen, may happen Marget, Margaret Marrow, equal ; of the same sort Mazle, to wander as stu- pitied Meade, made Mess, indeed, truly Meer, mare Midden, dunghill Mickle, large, much Mid-thie, mid-th>gh Mid-neet, mid-night Mittens, gloves Moilin, pining Mowdywarp, a mole Monie, many Mud, might Muir, moor Muin, moon Mun, must Muck, dung Murry, merry Munnet, must not Mudder, mother Mworn, morn N Nae, or nee, no Naigs, horses Nar, near Nattle, to strike slightly Neef, tist Nearne, name Neet, night Neist, next Ne'er ak, never mind Neb, nose New-fangled, new- fashioned Ne\bor, neigiibour Neyce, nice GLOSSARY. 253 Niramel, nimble Nin, none Nit, not Niver. never Nohbet, only Nowt. cattle Nowther, neither Nuik, nook Nwotiah, or nwotice, no- tice O Oaners, owners Oddments, articles of no great value Odswinge ! a rustic oath Often, often Onie, any Onset, dwelling-house & out-buildings On't, contract, of it Or, ere Open'd their gills, gap'd wide, and drank much. Ought, aught Owre, over Owther, either P Paddock rud, frogspawn Pang'd, quite full Parfet, perfect Pat. put Pate, head Paut, to walk heavily Paw mair, stir more; thus, " the cat will never j>au' wair," means, the cat will never stir more Pech, to pant Pee'd, one ey'd Peer, poor Pell-mell, quick Peet, a fibrous moss used for fuel Pennystones, stones in the form of quoits Pez, pease Piggen, a wooden dish Pick, pitch Piek'd the fwoal, foal'd before the natural time Pleugh, plough Pleace, place Pleenin, complaining Plack, a single piece of moi.ey Plied, read his book Potticary, apothecary Poddish, pottage Pops and pairs, a game at cards Pow, to pull; the head Prent, print Prod, thrust Pruive, prove Puil, pool Puzzen, poison Punch, to strike with the feet Pwokie, poke R Pattens, rats Reape, rope Rear, to raise ; to rallr Reed, red lleet, right S64 GLOSSARY. Reek, smoke Reyder, rider Rin, run Royster'd, vociferated Roughness, plenty ; store Row up, to devour Ruddy, ready Rust, rest ; repose Russlin, wrestling Ruse, arose Rwoar'd, roar'd Rwose, rose S Sackless. — The original meaning of this word is innocent, guiltless ; but it is now applied in the sense of feeble, useless, insignificant, incapable of exertion Sae, so Sajr, sore Sairy, poor Sarvant, servant Sal, shall San, sand Sampleth, sampler Sark, shirt Sarra, to serve Sattle, a long seat Sault, salt Sceape- greace, a hair- brain'd, graceless fel- low Scalder'd, scalded Scwores, scores Sceap'd, escap'd Scons, cakes made of bar- ley meal Scraffle, struggle Schuil, school Scotty kye, Scotch cows Scribe of a pen, line by way of letter Scrudge, squeeze Seame, same Seec, sick Seape, soap Sec, such Seegh, sigh. Seer, sure Sel, self Seed, saw Seeben, seven Seevy, rushy See % contract, see it Seet, sight Sen, or seyne, since Seugh, ditch Selt, sold Seypers, those who drink to the last drop; im- moderate drinkers Seyde, side Setterday, Saturday Sha' not, shall not Shearin, reaping Shern and a bizen, a shame, and besides a sin ; the word bizen be- ing apparently a cor- ruption of " By a aw," i. e. besides a sin Shoou, shoes Siiot, reckoning; freed ire in GLOSSARY. 555 Shuik, shook Sheynin. shining Shuffle, to serape with the feet ; to evada Shouder, shoulder Shoul, shovel Shottle, schedule Shwort, short Shwort-cakes, rich fruit cakes, which the Cum- brian peasants present to their sweethearts at fai rs Sinseyne, since that time SkiiTd, scream' d Sleas, sloes Siape, slippery Slink, slinge Siee, sly Slap, to beat Smiddy, smithy Smaw, small Smuik, smoke Smutty, obscene Smudder, smother Snaps, small round gin- gerbread cakes Snworin, snoring Sneck, latch or catch of a gate or d/>or Snift'rin, sniffling Sour-milk, butter-milk Smisy, lucky, generous S">wdgers, soM.ers Souse, to plunge or im- llierjje Spak, spoke S|ie\ > e, Miice Splet, split Spot, a place of service Spwort, sport Spunky, sparkliug Spurn, spoon Starken, to tighten Stcyle, stile Steeks, shuts Strack, struck Stule, stole Stuil, stool Stown, stolen Stwory, story Stuid, stood Strae, straw Stibble, stubble Stan, stand Streenin, straining Strappin, tall Stoun, a sudden and tran- sient pain Stoury, dusty Sfowter, to walk clumsily Slicks, furniture Struive, strove Sud, sliould Summet, something Suin, soon Sumph, blockhead Sworry, sorry Swapp'd, exchang'd Swope, a sup Swat, sit down Sweyne, swine Ta'en, taken 1 a;s!:el, scoundre TiiiiC, ilie one Taru'd, ill-natnr'd 256 GLOSSARY. Tearan, tearing ; a tear an fellow is a rough, hot- headed person, who drives every thing be- fore him, regardless of danger and of conse- quences Te, thee; to te-dui, to do Teable, table Teavlear, tailor Telt, told Teale, tale Teakin, taking Tease, to importune, to pester Teynev, small Tek, take Tern, them Teyme, time Teydey, neat Teugh, tough Teasty, tasteful Teydins, tidings Thar, or thur, these Thoum, thumb Throssle, a thrush Thworn, thorn Thurteen, thirteen Thowt, thought Thick, friendly Theek'd, thatch'd Thrang, throng Threep, to argue; to aver Threed, thread Tliropple, windpipe Thie, thigh Thimmel, thimble Tig, to strike gently Titty, sister To't, to the Tou's, thou art Tou'll, thou wilt Toddle, to walk unstably, as children Top, or topper, of a good quality To-mworn, to-morrow Trippet, a small piece of wood obtusely pointed, with which rustics a- muse themselves Trimmel, tremble Trouncin, beating Trig, tight Trinkums, useless finery Tudder, the other Tui, too Tuik, took Tuith-wark, tooth-ach Tuuunel'd, tumbl'd Tuppence, two-pence Twea, or twee, two Twonty, twenty U Unket, strange, particular news Unco, very Uphod, uphold Yarra, very Varmeu, or varment, ver- m i n Vap'riu, vapouring GLOSSARY. 257 W Whisht ! hush ! Wad, would Whinge, to weep Wadd n't, contract, would Wheezlin, drawing the not breath with difficulty Wae, sorry \ Whinin, whining Wa, dang it! a mode of Whitten, Whitehaven swearing Whore, where Waffler, waverer Whif, a blast Wale, choice Whietly, quietly Wan, to win Whiik, which Wanters, persons who Wussle, or wursle, to want wives or hus- wrestle bauds Whuzzi.i, whizzing War, worse; were Whissenday, W hit-Sun- Wark, work day War-day, every day in Whoal, hole the week, except Sun- Whey-feac'd, sniock- day fac'd Marl, world Wi', or wid, with Watter, water Wide-gobb'd, wide- Waw, wall mout.h'd Weage, wage Win, wind Wee, diminutive Windy, noisy Wey ! expression of as- Winnings, money won sent : why Worchet, orchard Weyfe, wife Wordy, worthy Weyte, blame Worton, Orton, name of Webster, or wobster, a village weaver Wots, oats Whack, thwack Wranir, wrong ' Whaker, Quaker Wulb'will Whart, quart Wullin, willing Wheyte, quite Wuily, or Wulliam, Wil- Wh\e, a heifer ham W hope, hope Wunuet, contract, will Whorupev])e, hornpipe not W hurry, wherry AVuu, to dwell It •58 0LO5SART. Yad, a mare Yable, able Yeage, age Yallow, yellow Yat, a gate Yek, oak Yell, ale Yeu, one Yer, your Ye's, ye shall, Youngermer, younger persons THE END. (Printed at R. Hetherton's Office, Wigtoa.) • \ University of California SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388 Return this material to the library from which it was borrowed. R5CD LD-URL JUN 111997 THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY OF CALIFORNIA MGELES Umarcrty ol Cmam. Los Angeles L 005 461 600 8 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY AA 000141677 5 h.