rnia
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 BALLADS, 
 
 IN THE 
 
 CUMBEPvLAXD DIALECT, 
 
 BY 
 
 R. ANDERSON, 
 
 WITH 
 
 AND A BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 ^VIGTOX: 
 
 PRINTED AND SOLD BY JOHN ISMAY ; 
 
 SniPKIN AND MARSHALL, LONDON; OLIVER 
 
 AND 130VD, EDINBURGH ; AND MAY BE 
 
 HAD OF ALL OTHER BOOKSELLERS. 
 
 1834.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Life of the Autlior . 
 
 Betty Brown . 
 
 Barbary Bell . 
 
 Nichol the Xewsmonger 
 
 Worton Wedding 
 
 Sally Gray 
 
 Will and Kate 
 
 The Impatient Lassie 
 
 The Bundle of Oddities 
 
 Luckless Jonathan . 
 
 Dick Walters . 
 
 The Lass abuin Thirty 
 
 Tom Linton 
 
 The Happy Family . 
 
 The Author on himself 
 
 Peace 
 
 The Cumberland Farmer 
 
 C. ^*^ 
 
 7Qi
 
 Ihe Disappointment 
 Auld Marget . 
 First Luive 
 Lai Stephen 
 The Bashfu' Wooer 
 The Aunty 
 The Rural Visit 
 Watty . 
 Jenny's Complaint 
 jMatthew ]Macree 
 Caleb Crosby . 
 Feckless Wully 
 Tlie Bleckell Murry 
 The Delights of Lo 
 Ruth 
 
 The Peck o' Punch 
 The Thuirsby Witch 
 The Village Gang 
 Dicky Glendinin 
 The Invasion . 
 G rizzy 
 Gwordie Gill . 
 
 A'eet.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 A Weyfe for Wully ."Miller 
 
 The Twee Auld Men 
 
 Uncle Wully . 
 
 Guid Strang Yell 
 
 Burgh Races . 
 
 Biddy . 
 
 Dinah Dufton 
 
 Xed Carnaughan 
 
 The Cocker o' Codbeck 
 
 Canny Cumraerlan . 
 
 Jeff and Job 
 
 Tib and her INIaister 
 
 Jwohny and ?Jary . 
 
 The Clay Daubin . 
 
 The Fellows round Torkin 
 
 The Dawston Player Fwok 
 
 Our Jwohny . 
 
 King Roger 
 
 Kit Craffet 
 
 Elizabeth Burth-Day 
 
 Borrowdale Jwohny 
 
 Lang Sevne
 
 The Auld Beggar . 
 
 The Buck o' King Walter 
 
 Marget o' the aUW 
 
 Madam Jane 
 
 Young Susy . 
 
 The Reed Breest . 
 
 Three Scwore and Nineteen 
 
 Silly Andrew 
 
 Auld Bobby Miller 
 
 Xanny Peal . 
 
 Andrew's Youngest Dowter 
 
 Soldier Yeddy 
 
 The Dawtie . 
 
 The Codbeck Wedding . 
 
 The Beggar and Keatie . 
 
 The Happy Couple . ' 
 
 Carel Fair 
 
 Peggy Pen . 
 
 Cursenmess Eve 
 
 Xotes 
 
 Glossary
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 PvODFRT AxDERSOx was bcm on the morning of 
 the 1st of February, 1770, at the Dam-Side, a 
 suburb of the city of Carlisle. He himself has 
 related, that he was " a poor little tender being, 
 scarce worth the trouble of rearing," — adding, 
 " Old Isabel, the midwife, who had assisted at 
 the birth of thousands, entertained many fears that 
 I was only sent to peep around me, shed tears, 
 and leave them : accordingly, ere twelve times 
 I'd seen the light, to the church they hurried me; 
 and 1 have som.etimes had reason to exclaim. 
 
 Oh ! that uear my fathers they that day had buried me." 
 
 lie was the youngest of nine children, whose 
 parents were at that time somewhat advanced in 
 years, and suffering all the privations of poverty, 
 with the tedium of toil. 
 
 Robert, as indeed, it is probable, did all his
 
 Vlll BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
 
 brothers and sisters, owed the first rearing of his 
 tender thought to the ^Nlistressof a Charity School, 
 instituted and maintained by the Dean and Chap- 
 ter of Carlisle, for the education of children only 
 — an admirable institution, and to which the de- 
 parted bard has many times acknowledged his 
 lasting obligations. Having at this humble 
 seminary of elementary learning conquered the 
 •' Primer," and the " Reading made-easy," he 
 was transferred to the more pretending tuition of 
 a master, by whom he was taught to write, and 
 advanced in reading and spelling. He soon 
 became a favourite with his tutor, and used 
 to accompany him in his rambles and fishing 
 excursions at leisure hours, and on hollidays. 
 " I am led to suppose," our Bard has observed, 
 "it was during our summer excursions that an 
 attachment to rural scenery first stole over my 
 youthful mind. The love of nature, where she 
 seems to say, 
 
 ' Behold me, man, in all my wild attire,' 
 
 grew with me from that period to manhood." 
 About this early period of his career, he had a 
 narrow escape from destruction. In crossing the 
 river Caldew, which flowed near to his home, 
 by means of a few stones placed for the purpose, 
 his foot slipped, and he fell into the water un- 
 observed by any one. Providentially an old 
 woman, coming immediately to the spot for a pail 
 of water, perceived him struggling and almost
 
 OF THE AUTHOR. IX 
 
 perishing in the stream ; and with some difficulty 
 she saved him. " IMy mother," he has told us, 
 in relating the occurrence, " shed tears over her 
 drenched child, and I was ordered to bed till my 
 clothes were dried ; for such was the poverty of 
 the family, I could not reckon more than one suit 
 at a time." 
 
 After learning almost all that this his first Domi- 
 nie could teach him, our Bard was removed to the 
 school of a very talented man — 'Sir. Isaac Ritson, 
 the Quaker, who, both as a Scholar and a Poet, 
 w^as deservedly held in high estimation. Under 
 Mr. Ritson, however, he had not the good fortune 
 to remain longer than a few weeks. His next 
 preceptor was Mr. Walter Scott, a native of 
 the Scottish Border, who was a teacher in Car- 
 lisle for the long period of more than fifty years, 
 from whom our author received what may be 
 termed the finishhig of his education, — though 
 he had only just completed his tenth year when 
 he was transferred from the school to the less con- 
 genial labours of a Calico-Print Works, there to 
 earn a weekly pittance to aid in the support of his 
 aged father, his mother having died a short time 
 previously. At this period of his life Anderson 
 was fond of drawing, and used to devote his eve- 
 nings to that pursuit, his productions generally 
 putting a few pence in his pocket, by which he 
 was enabled to procure the reading of books from 
 a Circulating Library, The works of Addison,
 
 X BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
 
 Pope, Fielding, and Smollet, were his favourite 
 studies. 
 
 In November, 1783, Anderson, being then 
 about 13 years of age, entered upon that occu- 
 pation which was the chief manual employment 
 of iiis future life — that of a pattern-drawer for 
 Calico-printing. He v.as at that time bound 
 apprentice in the concern of ^lessrs. T. Losh and 
 Co., of Denton Holme, near Carlisle. At the 
 expiration of his apprenticeship he went to London, 
 to fulfil an engagement in his business. It was 
 there, in the year 1794, that he seems first to 
 have tuned his lyre : we record the circumstance 
 in his own words, — " Being at Vaux-hall Gar- 
 dens, I happened to fall in with a pleasant youth, 
 whose appearance was truly respectable. 'We 
 felt equally disgusted with many of the songs 
 written in a mock pastoral Scottish style ; and 
 supposingmyselfcapableof producing what might 
 by the public be considered equal, or perhaps 
 superior, on the following day I wrote four, viz., 
 * Lucy Gray of Allendale,' ' I sigh for the girl I 
 adore,' ' The lovely brown Maid,' and ' Ellen 
 and I.' * Lucy Gray was my first attempt at 
 poetical composition ; and was suggested from 
 hearing a Northumbrian rustic relate the story 
 of the unfortunate lovers." These songs, with 
 some others, were set to music by Mr. Hook, a 
 composer of eminence, with whom the writer had 
 formed an acquaintance, and were received with
 
 OF THE AUTHOR. XI 
 
 the Utmost favour by the public — particularly his 
 first effort, " Lucy Gray," which was sung at 
 Vaux-hall, and elicited the warmest applause. 
 
 Our Bard, about this period, used occasionally 
 to engage his leisure hours in another description 
 of writing — one more manual thtin mental, — that 
 of putting given pieces in the smallest possible 
 compass ; and he succeeded in writing by candle 
 light, and without the aid of glasses, the Lord's 
 Prayer, the Creed, the Ten Commandments, a 
 psalm, and his name, upon a piece of paper the 
 size of a sixpence. 
 
 In 1796, Anderson left London and returned 
 to his native city, having accepted an offer of 
 employment by ^Messrs. Lamb, Scott, Forster, 
 and Co., Calico Printers. It was during this 
 period of his residence in Carlisle, that he was 
 first induced to publish a volume of poems, which 
 was printed by John Mitchell, and dedicated to 
 the late J. C. Curwen, Esq., M.P. From this 
 time he seems to have directed his attention more 
 particularly to the manners and customs of the 
 Cumberland peasantry ; and in 1801 his first 
 ballad in the Cumberland dialect appeared, en- 
 titled " Betty Brown." It was so favourably 
 received as to encourage him to proceed in that 
 peculiar poetic walk ; and within a few months 
 he had produced a sufficient number of such pieces 
 to form a volume, v/hich he published under the
 
 XU BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
 
 title of " Cumberland Ballads." These were 
 hailed with rapture by the Cumbrians, and with 
 admiration by all ; and so popular did they im- 
 mediately become, that the first edition was soon 
 exhausted, and a new one was thereupon published 
 by ]Mr. Hetherton, of Wigton, who purchased 
 the copy-right. The Ballads have since passed 
 through many editions. 
 
 Soon after the publication of his Ballads, 
 Anderson accepted a situation in a Print Works, 
 near Belfast. He remained in Ireland a few years, 
 and wrote several pieces of poetry, many of which 
 were published in the Irish papers, and from them 
 copied into English publications. Our Bard re- 
 turned to Carlisle in 1820, in somewhat destitute 
 circumstances. He was received with great kind- 
 ness, — a public dinner was given to welcome his 
 return by a respectable party of his friends ; and 
 measures were soon after adopted for publishing 
 his works by subscription, in order to secure him 
 some provision for his now declining years. The 
 design was well received, and supported, about 
 a thousand subscribers being procured in a short 
 space of time. The work, in two volumes, was 
 printed in a very creditable manner by ]Mr. Scott: 
 it contained a short Auto-biography of the author 
 — an Essay on the manners and customs of the 
 Cumberland peasantry, in illustration of the 
 Ballads, by Thomas Sanderson — a number of 
 Poems — Cumberland Ballads — and Sonas. lii
 
 OF THE AUTHOR. XUl 
 
 the publication of these Volumes, great zeal and 
 kindness was displayed, in promoting, and con- 
 summating the undertaking, by IMr. Perring, at 
 that time the talented and much respected Editor 
 of the Carlisle Patriot. 
 
 From this time to the period of his decease, 
 Anderson continued to reside in Carlisle, or its 
 immediate vicinity. But his circumstances were 
 far from comfortable. One of his besetting sins 
 was a too ready yielding to the fascinations of the 
 convivial board — a love, indulged " not wisely 
 but too well," of those strong drinks, so well de- 
 scribed by Shakspeare as an enemy which "men 
 put into their mouths to steal away their brains" — 
 and which, in poor Anderson's case stofe away 
 his purse likewise. The changes, moreover, that 
 had taken place in the nature of his occupation 
 as an artizan, rendered it extremely difficult to 
 obtain constant and profitable employment. Un- 
 der these circumstances, his temper becamesouied, 
 his mind desponding, and he presented a hapless 
 picture of misery and ruin — bearing a striking 
 reseniblance to those " poor starved poets" whom 
 Ben Johnson describes as " boasting of nothing 
 but a lean visage peering out of a seam-rent suit, 
 the very emblems of indigence." Towards the 
 close of his life, a few of his old friends and ad- 
 mirers, much to their honour, entered into a 
 subscription to provide for him ; and under their 
 fostering care he was comfortably boarded and
 
 XIV BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH, ETC. 
 
 lodged in Annetwell Street, Carlisle, where he 
 expired, on the evening of Thursday, the 26th 
 of September, 1833, after a gradual decay of his 
 vital powers. His remains were decently interred 
 on the Sunday morning following, in St. Mary's 
 Church yard — his native parish, — being followed 
 to the grave by many who had long cherished 
 towards him the warmest feelings of friendship as 
 a man, and of admiration as a Poet.
 
 CUxMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 BETTY BROWN. 
 
 Tune — "John Anderson my jo. 
 
 Come, Gwordie lad, unyoke the yad, 
 
 Lfct's gow to Rosley Fair ;l 
 Lang Ned's afwore, wi' Symie' lad, 
 
 Peed Dick, and monie mair : 
 My titty Greace and Jenny Bell 
 
 Are gangen bye and bye, 
 Sae doff thy clogs, and don thysel — 
 
 Let fadder luik to t' kye. 
 
 O, Wully ! leetsome may ye be ! 
 
 For me, 1 downa gang ; 
 I've often shek'd a leg wi' tee, 
 
 But now I's aw wheyte wrang ; 
 My stomich's geane, nae sleep 1 g^-t ; 
 
 At neet 1 lig me down. 
 But nobbet pech, and gowl, and fret^ 
 
 And aw for Betty Brown. 
 A
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 Sin' Cuddy \Yulson' murry-neet, 
 
 \Vhen I)eavie brees'd his shin 
 I've niver, niver yence been reet. 
 
 And aw for her, I fin : 
 Ton kens we danc'd a threesome reel, 
 
 And Betty set to me — 
 She luik'd sae neyce, and danc'd sae weel, 
 
 What cud a body de ? 
 
 My fadder fratches sair eneugh. 
 
 If I but steal frae heame ; 
 My mudder caws me peer deyl'd guff. 
 
 If Betty I but neame : 
 Atween the twee there's sec a frase, 
 
 O but it's bad to beyde ! 
 Yet, what's far war, aye Betty says, 
 
 She wunnet be my breyde. 
 
 WULLY. 
 
 Wey, Gworge ! ton's owther fuil or font. 
 
 To think o' sec a frow ; 
 In aw her flegmagaries donn'd, 
 
 "What is she 1 — nought 'at dow : 
 Theer's sceape-greace Ben, the neybors ken, 
 
 Can git her onie day — 
 Er I'd be fash'd wi' sec a yen, 
 
 I'd list, or rin away ! 
 
 AVi' aw her trinkum's on her back. 
 She's feyne eneugh for t' squire ; 
 
 A sairy weyfe. I trow, she'd raak, 
 'At cuddn't muck a byre : —
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 But, whisht ! here comes my titty Gieace, 
 She'll guess what we're ahout — 
 
 To mworn-o'mworn, i' this seame pleace. 
 We'll hae the stwory out. 
 
 December 19, 1801. 
 
 BARBARY BELL. 
 
 Tune — " Cuddle and Cuddle us aw thegethei\" 
 
 O but this luive is a serious thing ! 
 
 It's the beginner o' monie waes ; 
 And yen had as guid in a belter swing, 
 
 As luik at a bonny feace now-a-days : 
 Was there ever peer deevil sae fash'd as me I 
 
 Nobbet sit your ways still, the truth I's tell, 
 For I wish I'd been hung on our codlen tree, 
 
 The varra furst time I seed Barbary Bell ! 
 
 Quite lish, and nit owr thrang wi' wark, 
 
 I went my ways down to Carel fair,t 2 
 Wi' bran new cwoat, and brave ruffl'd sark. 
 
 And Dicky the Shaver pat flour i' my hair j 
 Our seyde lads are aw for fun. 
 
 Some tuik ceyder, and some drank yell ; 
 Diddlen Deavie he strack up a tune, 
 
 And I caper'd away wi' Barbary Bell. 
 
 Says I, ' Bab,' says I, * we'll de weel eneugh, 
 ' For tou can kurn, and darn, and spin ; 
 
 t Carlisle fair.
 
 4 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 ' I can deyke, men car-gear, and hod the pleugh ; 
 
 ' Sae at whussenday neist we'll t' warld begin : 
 * I's turn'd a gayshen awt' neybors say, 
 
 ' I sit like a sumph, nae mair mysel', 
 ' And up or a bed, at heame or away, 
 
 ' I think o' nought but 13a:bary Bell.' 
 
 Then whee sud steal in but Rob o' the Nuik, 
 
 Dick o' the Steyle.t and twee or three mair ; 
 Suin Barb'ry frae off my knee they tuik, 
 
 ' Wey, dang it ! ' says I, 'but this is nit fair!' 
 Ixobbie he kick'd up a dust in a crack. 
 
 And sticks and neeves they went pel-mel, 
 The bottles forby the clock feace they brack. 
 
 But, fares-te-weel, wheyte-fit, Barbary Bell ! 
 
 'Twas nobbet last week, nee langer seyne, 
 
 1 wheyn'd i' the nuik, I can't tell how ; 
 ' Get up,' says my fadder, ' and sarra the sweyne! ' 
 
 ' I's bravely, Bab ! ' says I, ' how's tou 1 ' 
 Keist mworn to t' cwoals I was fworc'd to gang, 
 
 But cowp'd the cars at Tindle Fell, 
 Tor 1 cruin'd aw the way, as I trotted alang, 
 
 * O that I'd never kent Barbary Bell !' 
 
 That varra seame neet up to Barbary' house, 
 \Vhen aw t' auld fwok were liggin eisleep, 3 
 
 I off wi' my clogs, and as whisht as a mouse, 
 Cla\ er'd up to the window, and tuik a peep j 
 
 i Noted pugilists.
 
 CU MBERLAXD BALLADS. 
 
 There whee sud I see, but Watty the laird — 
 Od wheyte leet on him ! I munnet tell ! 
 
 But on Setterday neist, if I live and be spar'd 
 I'll wear a reed cwot for Barbary Bell. 
 
 April 14, 1802. 
 
 NICHOL THE NEWSMONGER. 
 
 Tune — " The Night before Larry was itretch'd."" 
 
 Come, Nichol, and g-i'e us thy cracks, 
 
 I seed te gang down to the smiddy ; 
 I've fodder'd the naigs and the nowt. 
 
 And wanted to see thee 'at did e. 
 Ay, Andrew lad ! draw in a stuil. 
 
 And gi'e us a shek o' thy daddle ; 
 I got aw the news, far and nar, 4 
 
 Sae set off as fast's e could waddle. 
 
 In France they've but sworrofu' times. 
 
 For Bonnyprat's* nit as he sud be ; 
 America's nobbet sae sae ; 
 
 And England nit quite as she mud be : 
 Sad wark there's amang blacks and wheytes,]: 
 
 Sec tellin plain teales to their feaces, 
 Wi' murders, and wars, and aw that — 
 
 But, hod — I forget where the pleace is. 
 
 •Bonaparte. X Alluding to the insurrection of the Blacks.
 
 CUMPKRLAND BALLADS. 
 
 Our parson he gat drunk as muck, 
 
 Then ledder'd aw t' lads round about him ; 
 They said he was nobhet hawf reet, 
 
 And t'wok mud as weel be widout him : 
 The yell's to be fourpence a whart — 
 
 Odswinge, lad, there will be rare drinkin;^ ! 
 Billy Pitt's mad as onie INJarch hare, 
 
 And niver was reet, fwok are thinking. 
 
 A weddin we'll hev or it's lang, 
 
 \\V Bet Brag and lal Tommy Tagwally ; 
 Jack Bunion's, far off to the pea — 
 
 It'll e'en be the deeth of our Sally ; 
 The cloeger has bowt a new wig ; 
 
 Dalston singers come here agean Sunday ; 
 Lord Xelson's ta'en three Spanish fleets. 
 
 And the Dancin Schuil opens on Monday. 
 
 Carel badgers are monstrous sad fwok, 
 
 I'he silly peer de'ils how they ring up ! 
 Lal bairns ha'e got pox frae the kye, t 
 
 And fact'ries, like mushrooms, tliey spring up; 
 If they sud keep their feet for awhile, 
 
 And government nobbet pruive civil, 
 Taey'U build up as hee as the muin. 
 
 For CarePs a match for the deevil. 
 The king's meade a bit of a speech, 
 
 And gvntlefwok say it's a topper ; 
 An aldurman deet tudderneet, 
 
 Efter eatin' a turkey to supper ; 
 
 t Cow Pox.
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. / 
 
 Our squire's to be parliament man. 
 
 Mess, lad, but he'll keep them aw busy ! 
 
 Whee thinks te's come heame i' the cwoach, 
 Frae Lunnon, but grater-feac'd Lizzy. 
 
 The cock-feghts are ninth o' neist month, 
 
 I've twee, nit aw England can bang them ; 
 In Ireland they're aw up in arms. 
 
 It's whop'd there's nee Frenchmen amang them; 
 A boggle's been seen wi' twee heeds, 5 
 
 Lord help us ! ayont Wully' Carras, 
 Wi' girt saucer een, and a tail — 
 
 They dui say 'twas auld Jobby Barras. 
 
 The muin was at full this neet week ; 
 
 The weather is turn'd monstrous daggy ; 
 I' th' loft, just at seeben last neet, 
 
 Lai Stephen sweethearted lang Aggy : 
 There'll be bonny wark bye and bye. 
 
 The truth '11 be out, there's nee fear on't. 
 But I niver say nought, nay, nit I, 
 
 For fear hawf the parish sud hear on't. 
 
 Our Tib at the cwose-house has been. 
 
 She tells us they're aw monstrous murry ; 
 At Carel the brig's tummel'd down, 
 
 And they tek the fwok ower in a whurry ; 
 I carried our whye to the bull ; 
 
 They've ta'en seeben spies up at Dover ; 
 j\Iy fadder compleens of his hip. 
 
 And the Grand Turk has entered Hanover.
 
 8 CVaiBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 Daft Peg's gol hersel, man, wi' bairn, 
 
 And silly Piigarlic's tlit ladder ; 
 Lai Simp's ^reane and swapp'd the black cowt. 
 
 And cwoley hes wurried the wedder j 
 Tvly niudder hes got fiostet heels, 
 
 And peace is the talk o' the nation, 
 For papers say, varra neist week 
 
 There's to be a grand humiliation. t 
 
 Aunt INIeable has lost her best sark, 
 
 And Cleutie is bleani'd varra mickle ; 
 Nous^^ht's seafe out o' duirs now-a-days, 
 
 Frae a millstone, e\;n down to a sickle : 
 The clock it streykes eight, I mun heamc. 
 
 Or I's git a deuce of a fratchin ; 
 ^Vhen neist we've a few hours to spare, 
 
 \\ e'll fin out what mischief's a hatchin. 
 
 Julu 5, 1802. 
 
 TlIK WORTON WEDDING. 
 TrxE — " Daintie Daiie.^* 
 
 O, sec a vveddin Ive been at ! 6 
 
 De'il bin, what cap'rin, feghtin, vap'rin ! ' 
 Priest and dark, and aw gat drunk — 
 
 Kare deins there were there : 
 
 + IlUuuinatiofi.
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. y 
 
 The Thuirsby lads they fit the best ; 
 The Worton Weavers drank the meast ; 
 But Brough seyde laiids bang\l aw the rest 
 
 For l)raggin o' their gear, 
 And singin, — Whurry whum, whuddle whum, 
 Whulty whalty, wha-wha-wha, 
 And derry dum, diddle dum, 
 Derry eyden dee. 
 
 Furst belter skelter frae the kurk ; 
 
 Some off like fire, through dub and mire ; 
 ' De'il tek the hindmost! ' iMeer' lad cries — • 
 
 Suin head ovvre heels he flew : 
 ' God speed ye weel ! ' the priest rwoar'd out, 
 * Or neet we's hae a hearty bout ■" — 
 Peer jMeer' lad gat a bleaken'd snout — 
 
 He'd mickle cause to rue — 
 
 It spoiPd his — Whurry whum, &c. 
 
 When on the teable furst they set 
 The buttered sops, sec greasy chops, 
 
 'Tween lug and laggen ! oh what fun. 
 To see them girn and eat ! 
 
 Then lisping Isbel talk'd sae feyne, 
 
 Twas ' vathly thockin* thuth to dine ; 
 
 ' Theck grivetht wark ! to eat like thweyne Vt 
 It meade her sick to se'et ; 
 
 Then we sung — Whurry whum, &ic. 
 
 jVeist stut'rin Cursty, up he rus- , 
 Wi' a-a-a, and ba-ba-ba ; 
 
 • Vastly shockiDg. + .Such greivous. ? Swine.
 
 10 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 He VI kiss Jen Jakes, for aw lang seyne, 
 
 And feaifu' wark meade he ; 
 But Cursty, souple gammerstang 
 Ned Wulson brong his lug a whang ; 
 Then owre he flew, the peets amang, 
 
 And grean'd as he wad dee ; 
 
 But some sang — Whurry whum, &c. 
 
 Aunt Ester spoil'd the gurdle ceakes, 
 
 The speyce left out, was wrans:, nae doubt ; 
 Tim Trummel tuik nine cups o' tea, 
 
 And fairly capp'd tem aw : 
 The kiss went roun ; but Sally Slee, 
 AVhen Trummel cleek'd her on hLs knee, 
 She dunch'd and punched, cried, ' fuil, let be 1' 
 Then strack him owre the jaw, 
 
 And we sung — Whurry whum, &c. 
 
 Far maist I leugh at Grizzy Brown, 
 
 Frae Lunnon town she'd just come down, 
 In furbelows, and feyne silk gown. 
 
 Oh, man, but she was crouse ! 
 "\Vi' 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. 
 
 Young sour-milk Sawney, on the stuil, 
 
 A whornpeype danc'd, and keav'd and pranc'd : 
 
 He slipp'd, and brak his left-leg-shin, 
 And hirpl'd sair about :
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 11 
 
 Thon 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 laughM and jwokM, and cough 'd and smuikM, 
 And meade a fearfu' reek ; 
 
 The furm it brak, and down they fell, 
 
 Lang Isaac leam'd auld granny Bell ; 
 
 They up, and drank het suggar'd yell, 
 Till monie cudn't speak. 
 
 But some sang — whurry whum, &c. 
 
 The breyde she kest up her accounts 
 In Rachel' lap, then poud her cap ; 
 
 The parson' wig stuid aw ajy; 
 The dark sang Andrew Car ; 
 
 Blin Staig the fiddler, gat a whack. 
 
 The bacon fleek fell on his back. 
 
 And neist his fiddle stick they brak, 
 'Twas weel it was nee war. 
 
 For he sang — Whurry whum, &c. 
 
 Now on the midden some were laid, 
 
 Aw havey skavey, and kelavey ; 
 The dogger and the teaylear fit. 
 
 Peer Snip gat twee black een : 
 Dick Wawby he began the fray,
 
 12 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 But Jemmy INIoffat ran away, 
 And crap owre head amang the hay, 
 Fwok say nit varra clean ; 
 
 Then they sang — Whurry whum, Sec. 
 
 Xeist "Windy Wull, o' VVample seyde, 
 
 He bano-'d them aw, heath girt and smaw ; 
 
 He flang them east, he flang them west, 
 And bluidy pates they gat ; 
 
 To him they wer but caff and san ; 
 
 He split the teable wi'' his han, 
 
 Lut 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 stocking doff'd, and flang 't quite soft- 
 It hat Bess Bleane — Wull Webster blushM, 
 
 And luik'd anudder way : 
 The lads down frae the loft did steal ; 
 The parish howdey, Greacey Peel, 
 She happ'd her up, aw wished her weel. 
 
 Then whop'd to meet neist day. 
 
 And sing her — Whurry whum, &c. 
 
 The best on't was, the parson swore 
 His wig was lost, a crown it cost, 
 
 He belsh'd and heccuppM, in and out. 
 And said it was'nt fair : 
 
 Now day-leet it began to peep, 
 
 The breydegruim otl' to bed did creep,
 
 CUMBERLAXD BALLADS. 13 
 
 I trow he wacldn't mickle sleep, 
 
 But — whist I I'll say nee mair, 
 Nobbet sing — Whurry whum, whuddle whum, 
 Whulty, whalty, wha-wha-wha, 
 And derry dum, diddle dum, 
 Derry eyden dee. 
 
 July 10, 1802. 
 
 SALLY GRAY. 
 
 Tune — " The mucking o" Geordie^s byre.^^ 
 
 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 o' the rest ; 
 Now I'll hod te a bit of a weager, 
 
 A groat to thy tuppens I'll lay, 
 Tou cannot guess whee I's in luive wi'. 
 
 And nobbet keep off Sally Gray. 
 
 There's Cumwhitton, Cumwhinton, Cumranton, 
 
 Cumrangen, Cumrew, and Cumcatch, 
 And mony mair cum's i' the county. 
 
 But nin wi' Cumdivock can match ; 
 It's sae neyce to luik owre the black pasture, 
 
 \^'i' the fells abuin aw, far away — 
 There is nee sec pleace, nit in England, 
 
 For there lives the Sweet Sally Gray !
 
 14 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 I was sebenteen last Collop-Monday,8 
 
 And she's just tlie varra seame 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 tou seen her at kurk,9 man, last Sunday, 
 
 Tou coudn'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 gawn owre the lang meedow, 
 
 Says I, ' Here's a canny wet day '.' 
 I wad ha'e said mair, but how cou'd e, 
 
 When luikin at sweet Sally Gray ! 
 
 I caw'd to sup cnids wi' Dick ^Miller, 
 
 And hear aw his cracks and his jwokes ; 
 The dumb weyfe w^as tellin their fortunes, 10 
 
 What I I mud be like other fwokes 1 
 Wl' chawk, 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 Iword o' the manor, 
 
 A nabob, or parliament man, 
 What thousands on thousands I'd gi' her, 
 
 VN'ad she nobbet gi' me her Iian I
 
 CUMBEELAND BALLADS. 15 
 
 A cwoach and six horses Pd buy her. 
 And gar fwok stan out o' the way. 
 
 Then Pd 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 leace ; 
 God help them ! peer deeth-luikin bodies, 
 
 Widout a bit reed i' their feace ! 
 But Sally's just like allyblaster. 
 
 Her cheeks are twee rwose-buds in IMay — 
 O lad ! I cou\l sit here for ever, 
 
 And talk about sweet Sally Gray ! 
 
 July 24, 1802. 
 
 WILL AND KATE. 
 Tune — "John Anderson my jo. 
 
 Now, Kate, full forty years ha'e flown, H 
 
 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 learn 'd my knee — 
 Lai todlen 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 I 
 * Our bits o' bairns '11 scraffle up, 
 
 * Sae dry that sworry tear :
 
 16 CCMBEntAND BALLADS. 
 
 ' There's ^Matthew's ])e an alderman ; 
 
 * A bishop we'll mak Guy ; 
 ' Lai ^ed sal be a dogger ; 
 
 ' Dick sal work for tee and I.' 
 
 Then when our crops were spoil'd wi' rain, 
 
 Sir Jwohn mud hev his rent; 
 What cud we dee ? 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 pleasM to tek, 
 
 What then, we'd seeben 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 picked my pocket i' the thrang, 
 
 And de'il a plack had 1 ; 
 * Ne'er ack 1' says tou, 'we'll work for mair, 
 It's time eneugh to fret 
 
 ' A pun o' sorrow wunnet pay 
 ' Ae single ounce o' debt.'
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 Now, todlen down the hill o' leyfe, 
 
 Auld yage has brought content ; 
 And, God be thanked our bairns are up, 
 
 And pay Sir Jwohn his rent : 
 When, seyde by seyde aw day we sit, 
 
 1 often think and grieve, 
 It's hard that deeth sud part auld fwok, 
 
 U hen happy they can leve. 
 
 July 29, 1802. 
 
 THE IMPATIENT LASSIE.12 
 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. 
 
 How neyce the spunky fire it burns, 
 
 For twee to sit beside ! 
 And there's the seat where Jwohnie sits, 
 
 And 1 forget to cheyde ! 
 My fadder, tui, how sweet he snwores ! 
 
 JNly mudder's fast asleep ;
 
 i CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 Jle promis'doft, but, oh! I fear 
 His word he wunnet keep ! 
 
 What can it be keeps him frae me 1 
 
 The ways are nit sae lang-, 
 And sleet and snaw are nought at aw, 
 
 If yen were fain to gan.ix ! 
 Some ithcr lass, wi' bonnier feace. 
 
 Has catch'd his wicked ee. 
 And I'll be pointed at at kurk — , 
 
 JVay ! suiner let me dee ! 
 
 O durst we lasses nobbet gang-, 13 
 
 And sweetheart them we like, 
 I'd rin to thee, my Jwohnie lad, 
 
 A'or stop at bog or dyke ; 
 But custom's sec a silly thing. 
 
 For men mun hae their way, 
 And mouy a bonny lassie sit. 
 
 And wish frae day to day. 
 
 But, whist ! I hear my Jwohnie 's fit — 
 
 Aye ! that's his varra clog ! 
 He steeks the faul yeat softly tui — 
 
 O hang that cwoley dog ! 
 Now, hey for seeghs and sugar words, 
 
 Wi' kisses nit a few — 
 O l)ut this warl's a paradise, 
 
 W hen lovers they pruive true ! 
 
 July 31, 1802.
 
 CUMEEnLAND BALLADS. 19 
 
 THE BUNDLE OF ODDITIES. 
 Tune — " Fie let us a' to the bridal!" 
 
 Sit down, and I'll count owre my sweethearts, 1 4 
 
 For faith a brave number I've had. 
 Sin I furst went to schuil wi' Dick Railton, 
 
 ]?ut Dick's in his greave, honest lad ! 
 I mind, when he cross'd the deep watter, 
 
 To get me the shilapple's est. 
 How he fell owrehead, and I skirl'd sae. 
 
 Then otF we ran heame, sair distrest. 
 
 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 partin he poud up his spirits, 
 
 Says he, ' Tou lies boddcr'd my head, 
 ' And it sheks yen to rags and to tatters, 
 
 ' To sew wi' a lang double thread :' 
 Then, in nieakin a cwoat for my fadder, 
 
 (How luive dis the senses deceive !) 
 Forby usin marrowless buttons, 
 
 To ill' pockct-whol he stitcU'd a sleeve. l-''
 
 20 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 The neist was a Whaker, caw'd Jacob, 
 
 He tuni'd up the wheyte o' his een, 
 And talked about flesh and the spirit — 
 
 Thowt I, what can Gravity mean'? 
 In dark winter neets, i' the lonnins, 
 
 He'd weade thro' the durt 'buin liis knee, 
 It cuiPd his het heart, silly gander ! 
 
 And there let him stowter for me. 
 
 A lang blue-lipt chap, like a guidepwost, 
 
 (Lord help us and keep us frae harm!) 
 T<eist talked about car- gear and middens. 
 
 And the reet way to manage a farm ; 
 'Twas last Leady Fair* 6 1 leet on him. 
 
 He grummeli'd and spent hawf-a-crown- 
 God bless him! hed he gowd i' gowpens, 
 
 I waddn'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 o' reed-headed Ellek, 
 
 \\ i' a feace like a full harvest muin ; 
 Sae they fit till they just gat eneugh on't. 
 
 And 1 laugh'd at beath when 'twas duin. 
 
 There's annudder worth aw put together, 
 1 cud, if 1 wad, tell his neame ; 
 
 He gangs past our house to the market. 
 And moaie a time he's set me heame :
 
 CUMBERLAKD BALLADS. 21 
 
 O wad he but ax me this question, 
 ' Will tou be my partner for life V 
 
 IVi answer without ony blushes, 
 And aye try to mek a guid wife. 
 
 Aurruit 1, 1802. 
 
 LUCKLESS JOXATHAX. 
 Tune — " Erin go bragh.''^ 
 
 heale be thy heart! my peer merry auldcronie, 
 
 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 an' 
 meedow, 
 
 Like larks in a mwornin, a youne happy pair, 
 Then I luik at mysel, and 1 see but a shadow, 
 
 Thafs suffered sae micklc, it cannot beyde man. 
 
 Tou minds, when I buried my honest auld fadder, 
 
 O how cud 1 ever get owre tliat sad day ! — 
 His last words were, 'Jonathan, luik tothymudder, 
 
 ' 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 thurteen weeks efter. 
 
 Was laid down ayont liim in Aikton kurk-yard. 
 
 My friend,, TemmyCunston,went owre seas to Inde, 
 For me, his auld comrade, a venture he'd tak ,
 
 22 CVMliEULAND LALLADS. 
 
 I'll ^creapM up n lock money — he gat it — but 
 Itatciy 
 
 Pucr Jcininv was puzzenM, they say, by a black: 
 'Twas nit for my money I fretted, but Jemmy, 
 
 Pit ne'er for2:et him, as lane as I've breath ; 
 He said, 'Don't cry rnudder! Pll mek you a leadyl' 
 
 Jiut sairy auld Tamer 1 'twiM 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 Panton a canny house left her, 
 (Wliatbut health and contentment can money 
 nit buv ?) 
 Wi' laird Hodgson o' Burgh^? off she 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 poutl out, and reet weel I remember, 
 I stamp'd, ay, like mad, when the sad scet I saw. 
 For tirat was the pleace my grandfadder was 
 bworn in, 18 
 Forbye my twee uncles, my fadder and aw.
 
 CUMCERI.AND BALLADS. 2? 
 
 Now, widout ovvthcr fadder, or mudder, or 
 swoetiieart, 
 
 A friend, or a shelter to cover my head, 
 I mazh; and wander, nor ken what I's dein. 
 
 And wad, (if 1 nobbet durst) wish T were dead. 
 O heale be thy heart I my peer avJd cronie. 
 
 And nivermay trouble draw tears frac thy e''e ; 
 It's reet, when he can, man sud rise abuin sorro^v ; 
 
 For pity's nit common to peer fwok like ms'. 
 
 Aiisust 1, 1802. 
 
 DICK VVATTERS. 
 TuxE — " Crowdu." 
 
 O, Jenny ! Jenny ! where 's ton been ! 
 
 Thy fadder is just mad at tee ; 
 He seed somebody i' the croft, 
 
 And gulders as he'd wurry me . 
 O monie are a miidder's whopes. 
 
 And monie are a mudder's fears. 
 And monie a bitter, bitter pang, 
 
 lieath suin and leate lier bosom tears ! 
 
 We broui^r thee up, pat thee to schuil. 
 And clead te weel as peer fwok can ; 
 
 We larn'd thee heath to dance and read; 
 Ijut now ton's crazy for a man. 
 
 O, monie are, .S.
 
 24 CUMBrRLAND BALLADS. 
 
 When to\i was young, and at my knee, 
 
 1 dwoated on thee, day and neet ; 
 But now tou's rakin, rakin still, 
 And niver, niver i ' my seet. 
 
 O, monie are, &c. 
 Tea's proud, and past aw guid adveyce — 
 
 Yen mud as wee) speak till astean ; 
 Still, still thy awn way reet or wrang — 
 JNless, but tou'll rue't when 1 am geane I 
 O, monie are, 6cc. 
 .Dick Watters, I ha'e tel't thee oft, 
 JNe'er means to be a son o' mine ; 
 He seeks thy ruin, sure as deeth. 
 
 Then like Bet i3axter tou may whine. 
 
 O, monie are, 6cc. 
 Thy fadder's comin frae the croft, 
 
 A bonny hunsiip faith he'll mek ; 
 Put on thy clogs and auld blue brat — 
 
 lleaste, Jenny ! heaste ! he lifts the sneck! 
 O, monie are a mudder's whopes. 
 And monie are a mudder's fears. 
 And monie a bitter, bitter pang, 
 
 Beath suin and leate, her bosom bears ! 
 Aui^ust 2, 1802. 
 
 THE LASS ABU IN THIRTY. 
 Tune — " Jockeii''$ Grey B reeks.'" 
 I've wonder'd sin I kent mvsel. 
 
 What keeps tiie men fwok aw frae me
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 25 
 
 Ps as guid-like as cousin Tib, 
 
 And she can hae her choice o' three : 
 
 For me, still moilin by mysel, 
 Lite'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, I gev him twee, 
 
 Reet weel 1 mind, amang the hay ; 
 Xeist time we met, he g-lump'd and gloomed. 
 
 And turn'd his head anither way. 
 
 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 cast : 
 ]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 it mair ! 
 
 The throssle, when cauld winter's geane. 
 Aye in our worchet welcomes spiing, — 
 
 It niun Ije luive, did we but ken, 
 Gars him aroun his partner sing ; — 
 
 The cock and hen, the duck and drake, 
 JNay e'en the smawest birds that flee,
 
 26 CUMBERLAND DALLADS, 
 
 Ilk thing that lives, can ect a mate, 
 Except sec sworry things as me. 
 
 I often think how married fwok 
 
 ^lun lead a sweet and happy life ; 
 The prattlin bairns rin toddlin roun, 
 
 And tie the husband to the wife : 
 Then, oh ! what joy wlien neet draws on ! 
 
 Siie meets him gangen frae his wark ; 
 But nin can toll what cheerfu' cracks 
 
 The tweesome ha'e lang efter dark. 
 
 The wise man lives nit far frae this, 
 
 I'll hunt him out suin as I can ; 
 lie telt Nan Dobson whee she'd wed, 
 
 And I'm as likely, sure, as Nan ; 
 But still, still moilin by mysel. 
 
 Life's just a bitter widout sweets : 
 The summer brings nee pleasant days, 
 
 And winter tires wi' lang, lang neets ! 
 
 August 3, 1802, 
 
 TOM LINTON.io 
 Tune — " Come under my Plaidie.''* 
 
 Tom Linton wasbworn till a brave canny fortune, 
 11 is auld fadder screap'd aw the gear up he cud ; 
 
 IVatTom, country booby, luik'd owre lice abuin 
 him. 
 And mix'd wi' the bad, nor e'er heeded the good;
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS, 27 
 
 At tlie town he'd whore, gammle, play hell, and 
 
 the <leevil, 
 
 Jle wad hev his caper, nor car\l how it com; 
 
 Then he mud hev his greyhounds, guns, setter, 
 
 and hunter, 
 
 And king o' the cockers they aw cursen'd Tom. 
 
 I think I just see how the lads wad flock reun him, 
 
 And, oh I they were fain to shekTom by the liand! 
 Then he'd tell how he tit wi' the ])arber's 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 hae coax'd hawf the parish away. 
 
 Then he drank w i' the squire, and laugh'd wid his 
 worst lip, 
 
 AndtalkYl of the duke, and the deevilkens whee; 
 He gat aw the new-fangPd oaths i' the nation, 
 
 And mock'd a peer beggar man wanting an e'e : 
 His fields they were mortgag'd; about it was 
 whisper'd ; 
 
 A farmer was roi)b'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 hae the laird's 
 dowter. 
 But she pack'd him off wid a flee in his ear ;
 
 28 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 Xeist thing, arx auld comrade, for money Tom 
 bonow'd, 
 
 E'en pat him in pri>on, and l)Hdhim Vyy there : 
 At last he gat out, efter lang he had sufft;r'd. 
 
 And sair had repented the sad life he'd led : 
 AVidoutshoon till his feet, in a soldier's auld jacket, 
 
 He works on the turnpike reet hard for his bread. 
 
 Now folly seen into, ragg'd.peerand down-hearted 
 
 He toils and he frets, and keen wants daily press; 
 If cronies ride by, wey, alasl they've forgot him, 
 
 For whee can remember auld fiiends in distress ? 
 O pity, what pity, that, in ev'ry county, 
 
 Sae monie Tom Linton's may always be found ! 
 Deuce tek aw girt nwotions,and whurligig fashions 
 
 Contentment's akingdom, aye awthewarl round! 
 
 August 4, 1302. 
 
 THE HAPPY FAMILY. 20 
 TuxE — " O'er Bogie." 
 
 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 ! 
 Come, Jobby, gi'e the fire a prod, 
 
 Then steek the entry duir ; 
 It's wise to keep cauld winter out, 
 
 When we ha'e't in our pow'r.
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 29 
 
 Ileaste, Jenny ! put the bairns to bed, 
 
 And mind they say their pray'rs ; 
 Sweet innocents ! their heads yence down, 
 
 I'hey sleep away their cares ! 
 But gi' them furst a butter-shag. 
 
 When young, they munnet want, 
 ]Vor ever sal a bairn o' mine. 
 
 While I've a bite to grant. 
 
 wife ! that weary rheumatism, 
 E'en gars thee iuik but thin ; 
 
 1 mind when tou was fresh and fair, 
 And fattest o' thy kin ; 
 
 But yage comes on, dui what we can — 
 
 ^Ve munnet think it hard ; — 
 A week at Gilsland tou salt try, 
 
 ISeist summer, if we're spared. 
 
 Now, seated at my own 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 mudder b«st. 
 For she, tou kens, can always feel 
 
 For peer fwok when distrest. 
 
 Nay ! what it's owre ! tou cannot sing. 
 
 But weel 1 guess the cause ; 
 Young VVulliam sud ha'e come to neet — 
 
 Consider, lass I it suows !
 
 30 CL'MBEULAND BALLADS. 
 
 Another neet '11 suin be here, 
 Sae divvent fieet 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 as weel,) 
 W'c met but yence a month, and then 
 
 Out she was fworc'd to steal : 
 The happiest day we e'er had known, 
 
 "Was when 1 caw'd her mine, 
 But monie a thousand happier days 
 
 We beath ha'e kent sin-seyne. 
 
 Augmt 5, 1802. 
 
 THE AUTHOR OX HIMSELF. 
 
 Tune — " The CampbelPs are coining." 
 
 O, Eden! whenever I range thy green banks. 
 And view aw the scenes o' my infantine pranks, 
 ^^'here wi' pleasure I spworted, ere sorrow began, 
 I sigh to trace onward frae boy to the man : 
 To memory dear are tlie days o' yen's youth, 
 When, enraptur'd, we luik at each object wi' truth. 
 And like fairies, a thousand wild frolics we play'd ; 
 Ijut manhood has chaug'd what youth fondly 
 pourtrayYl. 
 
 1 tlniik o' my playmates,-' dear imps, Ilov'd best I 
 Xow divided, like laiks efter leaving the nest !
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 31 
 
 IIow we trembl'd to scliuil, and wi' copy and Iniik, 
 Uft read our hard fate in the maister's stern luik; 
 In summer, let lowse, how we brush 'd thro' the 
 
 wood, 
 And meade seevy caps on the brink o' the flood ; 
 Or watch'd the seap bubble^, or ran wi' the kite. 
 Or launched paper navies, how dear the delight ! 
 
 There was Jock Smith, the boggle, — I mind him 
 
 reet weel, 
 We twee to IJlain's hayloft together wad steal ; 
 And of giants, ghosts, witches, and fairies oft read. 
 Till sae fveeten'd, we hardly durst creep off to bed : 
 Tlien, 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, 1 mun get thee a bit of a tiade ; 
 * O, cud I afford it, mair larnin thou'd get!' 
 But peer was my fadder, and I's unlarned yet : 
 And then my furst sweetheart, an angel was she! 
 But I only meade luive thro' the tail o' my e'e : 
 I mind when 1 met her I panted to speak, 
 Lut stood silent, and blushes spread aw owre my 
 cheek. 
 
 At last, aw the play-things o' youth laid aside, 
 Isow luivC; whope, andfcar did my moments divide,
 
 32 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 And wi' restless ambition deep sorrow began, 
 But I sigh to trace onward frae boy to the man : 
 To memory dear are the days o' yen's youth, 
 "When, enraplur'd, we luik'd at ilk object wi' truth. 
 And, like fairies, a thousand wild frolics we play'd ; 
 But manhood has chang'd what youth fondly 
 pourtrav'd. 
 
 August 5, 1302. 
 
 PEACE. 
 Tune — " There's nae luck about the housed' 
 
 Now, God be prais'd ! we've peace at last. 
 
 For jSichol he's been down. 
 And sec a durdem, JSichol savs. 
 
 They've hed in Lunnon town ; 
 The king thowt war wad ruin aw, 
 
 And Bonnyprat the seame. 
 And some say teane, and some say beath, 
 
 Ha'e lang been much to bleame. 
 
 Kow monie a weyfewill weep for joy, 22 
 
 And monie a bairn be fain, 
 To see the ladders tiiey'd forgot. 
 
 Come seafe and sound agean ; 
 And monie a yen will watch in vain, 
 
 ^Vi' painfu' whopes and fears. 
 And oft the guilty wretches blcame, 
 
 That set fwok by the ears.
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 33 
 
 My Cousin Tommy went to sea. 
 
 And lost his left-hand Thum ; 
 He tells sec teales about the feight, 
 
 They mek us aw sit dum ; 
 He sys it is reet fearfu wark, 
 
 For them that's fworcM to see't — - 
 The bullets whuzzing past yen's lugs, 
 
 And droppen down like sleet. 
 
 But Peter, our peer sarvant man, 
 
 \\'as far owre proud to work, — - 
 They said a Captain he sud be, 
 
 Alang wi't Duke o' York : 
 AVi' powder'd heed away he marched. 
 
 And gat a wooden leg; 
 But monie a time he's rued sin seyne, 
 
 For now he's fworc'd to beg. 
 
 Ay, but our Sally wull be fain, 
 
 Sud Lanty but cum back ! 
 Then owre the fire, i' winter neets. 
 
 We wull ha'e monis 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 amang the dead. 
 
 O ! but I us'd to wonder much, 
 
 And think what thousands fell ; 
 Now what they've aw been feightm for, 
 
 The deil a yen can tellj' — 
 C
 
 34 eVMMRL'AND BALLADS. 
 
 P.ut God be prais'd ! we've peace at laat, 
 
 The news he? spread afar ; 
 O may our bairns and bairns' bairns hear 
 
 iNae mair o' murderous war. 
 
 August 6, 1302. 
 
 THE CUMBEPvLAXD FARMER. 
 
 I Vc thought and Pve thought, agean and agean, 
 Sin I was peat-heet, now 1 see it quite plain, 
 That fanr.erv23 are happier far, tho' we're peer. 
 Than thur they caw gentlefwok, wi' aw tlieir gear ; 
 llion why about riches aye mek sec a fuss, 
 G i'e us meat, drmk, and cleading, it's plenty for us: 
 Frae the prince to the ploughman, ilk hes but his day 
 And when Deeth gi'es a beckon, we aw mun obey. 
 
 There's our 'squire, wi'his thousands, jant jantin 
 
 about, 
 W hat I he'd gi'e aw his gear to get shot o' the gout : 
 ISowther 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 and 
 
 sings, 
 Mess, lad, but you've ten times mair pleasure than 
 
 kings ; 
 ' I mean honest simplicity, freedom, and health; 
 ' These are dearer to man, than the trappings o' 
 
 wealth.'
 
 CUMnKRLAND BALLADS. 35 
 
 Can ouglit be mair sweet than, like larks in a mworn 
 To rise wi' tlie sunshine, and luik at the cworu ? 
 Tho' in winter, it's true, dull and lang are tlie neets, 
 Butthro' life fwokmun aye tekthebitter3wi's\veet3. 
 When God grants us plenty, and hous"'d are the 
 
 crops. 
 How we fi'dst on cruds.collops, and guid butter-sops 
 Let your feyne fwok in town brag o' dainties whee 
 
 will, 
 Contt^ut and the country for my money still. 
 
 They may tell o' their gardens as lang as they like, 
 Dont the flow'rs bluim as fair under ony thworn 
 
 dike ■>. 
 The deil a guid bite they wad e'er get I trovr, 
 Wer't not for the ])eer man that follows the plough. 
 If we nobbet get plenty to pay the lairds 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. 
 
 THE DISAPPOIXT}JENT. 
 Tune — " Ettvich Banks." 
 
 The mTiin shone breet at nine last ncet, 
 W hen Jemmy Sharp com owie the muir; 
 
 Weel did I ken a lover's fit. 
 And heard hivn softly tap the duir :
 
 36 CCMI3ERLAND EALI.ADS. 
 
 IMy fadJer started i' the nuik, 
 
 ' Kin, Jenny! see what's that,' he said: 
 I whisperM, ' Jemmy, come to-mvvorn,' 
 
 And then a leame excuse suin meade. 
 
 I wont 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 towVds the west; 
 Eut when far off 1 saw the wood. 
 
 Where he unlock'd his heart to me, 
 I thought o' monie a happy hour, 
 
 And then a tear gush'd irae my e'e. 
 
 To-neet my fadder's far frae hea.me. 
 
 And wunnet come the?e three hours yet; 
 But, O ! it pours, and I'd be lealh 
 
 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. 
 
 AULD MATvGET. 
 
 Auld Marget in the fauld she sits. 
 
 And spins, and sings, and smuiks by fits, 
 
 And cries a? she had lost her wits — 
 
 ' this wearv, weary warl!'24
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 37 
 
 Yence ^Target was as lish a lass 
 As e'er in summer trod the grass ; 
 liut learfu' changes come to pass 
 
 In this weary, weary warl ! 
 Tiien, at a murry-neet or fair, 
 liev beauty meacle the young fwok stare ; 
 Aow wrinkled is that feace wi' care — 
 
 O this weary, weary warl ! 
 Yence iMargetshe hed dowters twee, 
 And bonnier lasses cudna be ; 
 But nowtliei kith nor kin has she — 
 
 O this weary, weary warl I 
 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 oti by a decline — 
 
 b this weary, weary warl! 
 Auld Andrew tolld reet jair for bread — 
 Ae neet t'ley fan him cauld, cau'd dead, 
 JN'ae wondt-r that turn'd iNIarget's head- — 
 
 O this weary, weary warl! 
 Peer^Margetl oft I pity thee, 
 Wi' care-worn cheek and hollow e'e. 
 Bowed down by yage and poverty — 
 
 O this weary, weary warl ! 
 
 Ausuit 28, 1802.
 
 o8 CUMEERI.AND BALLADS. 
 
 FIRST LUiVE. 
 Tune — " Cold and raw." 
 
 It'p jn<^t three weelxS sin Carol fair, 
 
 This sixteenth o' September ; 
 T'lere the furst loffof a sweetheart I gat, 
 
 Sae that da^"^ I'll remember. 
 Thi^ luive meks j'^en stupid — ever sin sevne 
 
 I's thinkin and thinkin o' Wullv; 
 I dung- owre the knop, and scawder'd my fit. 
 
 And cut aw my tiioum wi' the gullv. 
 
 O, how he dano'd! and, O how he talk'd ! 
 
 For mv life 1 cannot for/et him; 
 He wad hev a kiss — ] o-ev hirn a slajj — 
 
 But if he were here I'd let him. 
 Says he, ' ?dai!y Maudlin, my heart is thine! ' 
 
 And he brcng sec a seesh, 1 believ'd him : 
 Tlioueht I, Wully Wintrep, thou's welcome to 
 mine, 
 
 Eut my head I hung down to deceive him. 
 
 Twee yards o' reed ribbon to wear for liis seake, 
 
 Forby leader mittens h.e bought me ; 
 But when we were thinkin o' nought but luive, 
 
 ?.lv titty, dc-il bin I con)e and souglit me: 
 Tiie deuce tek aw clashes ' ofr'she ran heame. 
 
 And e'en telt rr,y tarn'd auld muddor; 
 Tliere's sec a te-dui — l)ut let t'.iem fratch on — 
 
 Mks him, I'll nc'^r get i<^c annudder I
 
 CUMEEnLANB BALLADS. o2 
 
 Keist Sunday, God wullin! wo promised lo meat, 
 
 I'll get frae our tweesonie a baitin ; 
 But a lee mun patch up, be't rang' or be't re«t, 
 
 For WuUy he sha'not stan waitin : 
 Th'j days tliey seem lang, and lang arc the nects, 
 
 And, waes me! this is but Monday ! 
 I S'-egh, and I think, and 1 say to mysel, 
 
 O that to-morrow were Sunday ! 
 
 September 16, 1802. 
 
 LAL STEPHEN. 
 
 Tl'Nt— " Hallow Fair." 
 
 I.al Stephen25 was bworn at Kurkbantoa, 
 
 Just five feet three inches was he ; 
 But at plowing, or mowing, or shearia. 
 
 His m.atch you but seldom cud see; 
 Tlien atdancin, O he was a capp.r ! 
 
 He'd shuffle and lowp till he sw-.-at ; 
 And for singin he ne'er bed 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 played on tv/ee jew-trumps togjtlier, 
 
 And aye come off winner at card* : 
 At huntin a brock or an otter, 
 
 At trackin a foumert or hare, 
 At pittin a cock or at shootin, 
 
 Is.ae lad cud wi' Stephen compar*.
 
 40 Cr.MEERLAXD BALLADS. 
 
 And then he wad feijht like a fury, 
 
 And count fast as hops aw the stars. 
 And read aw the news i' the paper, 
 
 And talk about wedd'ns and wars ; 
 And then he wid drink like a Hriton, 
 
 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 fevne thing she said — 
 But my fadder he just o-at a gliff on't. 
 
 And faith a rare durdem he meade ; 
 Then Debby, that leev'd at Drumleenin, 
 
 She wad hev him aw till hersel, 
 For ae neet v.hen he stuil owre to see her 
 
 \\'i' sugar she sweetened his keale. 
 
 Then Judy she darned aw his stockins. 
 
 And Sally she meade him a sark, 
 And Lizzy, the laird's youngest dowter. 
 
 Kens weel whe she met efter dark ; 
 Aunt Ann, o' the wrans: seyde o' fifty, 
 
 K'en thowt him the flower o' the flock — 
 Nay, to count yen bv ven aw his sweethearts, 
 
 \\"ad tek a full hour by the clock. 
 
 O ! but I Avaa vext to hear tell on't, 
 When JSicholthe teydens he brought, 
 
 That Steph'jn was geane for a soldier — 
 Our .(enuy she ^jowled, av, like ouorht :
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 41 
 
 Sin' that we've nae spwort efter supper. 
 We nowther get sang or a crack ; 
 
 Our lasses sit beytin their fingers, 
 Aw wishin for Stephen seafe back. 
 
 November 15, 1802 
 
 THE BASIIFU' WOOER. 
 
 Tune — " Dainty Davie." 
 
 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 faclder hear, man ; 
 He's auld and fealed, and wants his sleep, 
 Sae by the hallan softly creep, 
 Ye need nae watch, and glower, and peep, 
 I'll meet ye, niver fear, man : 
 If a lassie ye wad win, 
 
 Ee chearfu' iver, bashfu' niver ; 
 Hka Jock may get a Jen, 
 If he lies senoe to try, man. 
 
 ^Vhene'e^ we at the market meet, 
 Dunnet luik like yen hawf daft, 
 O talk about the cauld and heat. 
 As ye were weather-wise, man ; 
 Hand up yer head, and bauldly speak, 
 And keep the blushes frae yer cheek. 
 For he whee lies his teale to seek, 
 We lasses aw despise, man : 
 
 If a lassie, Sec,
 
 42 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 I Tv.ei ye leately, aw yer leano, 
 
 Ye seemed like yen stown frae the dead, 
 Yer teeth e'en chattered i' yer head, 
 But ne'er a word o' luive, man ; 
 I spak, ye luik'd annrulder way, 
 Then trimmerd as ye'd got a flay, 
 And owre yer shou'der cried ' guid day,' 
 l\ov yence to win me, struive, man : 
 If a lassie, tkc. 
 
 My aiin^y left me threescwore pun, 
 iUit De'il a yen cf aw the men, 
 Till then, did bare-legg'd Kiev ken, 
 Or care a strae for me, man ; 
 Kow, tigi?.in at me suin and late, 
 They're cleekin but the yellow bait ; 
 Yet, m.ind me, Tom, I needn't w:iit, 
 \Vhen I ha'e choice o' three, man : 
 If a lassie. Sec. 
 
 There lives a lad owre yonder muir. 
 He hes nae fau't but yen — he's puir ; 
 Whene'er we meet, wi' kisses sweet, 
 He's like to be my deeth, man j 
 And there's a lad ahint yon trees, 
 "Wad weada far me abuin the knees ; 
 Sae toil yer mind, or, if ye please, 
 Is as langer fash us beath, man : 
 
 If a lasiic, &c. 
 
 Junuarv 5, 180^
 
 CUMEERI.AND BALLADS. 43 
 
 THE AUXTY. 
 
 AVe'vc roughness amang hands, ■we've kye 1' the 
 
 byre, 
 Come live wi' us, lassie, it's aw I d::sire ; 
 I'll lig I the loft, and gi'e my bed to thee, 
 !N or sal ought else be wantin that guidness can gi'e: 
 Sin the las o' thy kin, thy peor annty, we've lost, 
 I'hou fjets aw the day, and e'en luiks like a ghost. 
 
 I mind wlsen she sat i' the nuik at her wheel, 
 licw she'd tweyne the slow thread, and aye coun- 
 sel us wee!. 
 Then oft whisper me, ' Thou wad mok a top wife ;' 
 'And pray God to see thee weel sattl'd in life;' 
 Then what brave funny teales she cud tell the 
 
 n ■ 't through. 
 And bless the peer fwok, if the stormy win blew. 
 
 That time when w^e saunter'd owre leate at the town, 
 'Twas the day, I weel mind, when tou gat thy 
 
 chintz gown, 
 Forthe watters w-r? up, and pick dark was the neet, 
 And she lissen'd and cry'd, and thought aw wasn't 
 
 reet ; 
 Bu' , OhI whenj'cu met, whataluikdld shegive! — 
 I can niver forget her as lang els 1 live. 
 
 JFow I like thee, dear lassie' thou's oft heard me tell; 
 ZVay, I like thee far better than 1 like mysel : 
 And when sonow forsakes thee, to kurk we'll een 
 
 cang, 
 But tou uiunnet sit piain thy leane aw day langj
 
 44 CVMBKRI.AND BALLADS. 
 
 Come owre the .S'eate, lassie, my titty sal be 
 A companion to her that's aye dearest to me. 
 
 January 6, 180" 
 
 THE RURAL VISIT. 
 Tune — " The siito/s doirter." 
 
 I went to see young Susy, 
 
 Bonny, teydy, blithe was she ; 
 I slyly kiss'd her cherry lips, 
 
 And mark'd the magic o' her e'e, 
 That ia ray fancy raisM 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 nil sae sweet the honey-cwom. 
 As Susy's templln cherry lips, 
 
 That fir'd at once my bosom : 
 O may no rude destroyer dare 
 
 To crop sae fair a blossom ! 
 
 And now, to greet the stranger. 
 
 The wearied auld fwok dander'd heame,
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 15 
 
 And village news recounted : 
 
 The guid man bade his sonsy deame 
 Trim up the fire and mek the tea ; 
 
 The gurdle-cakes as Susy turn'd, 
 1 watch VI her heaving bosom, 
 
 And pleasure beamM in ilka feace. 
 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 full tive hours ; I ruse, and fan 
 Young Susy half consenting 
 To set me out a mile a-geate ^26 
 
 I held her to my bosom. 
 And, parting, kissVl, and pray'd kind Heav'n 
 
 To guard this beauteous blossom. 
 
 January 8, 1803. 
 
 WATTY. 
 
 TuxE— " The lads o' Dunce." 
 
 If ye ax where I come frae, I say the Fell-seyde, 
 Where fadderand raudder,and honest fwokbeyde ; 
 And my sweetheart, O bless her! she thowt nin 
 
 like me, 
 For when we shuik bans, the tears gush'd frae 
 
 her e'e : 
 Says I, ' I mun e'en git a spot if I can, 
 'But, whateverbetyde me, I'll think o' thee, Nan! '
 
 46 CUMEEULAXD BALLADS. 
 
 Nan wa5 a parfet beauty, wi' twee cheeks 
 like codlia blo>>on)s ; the varra sjet on her 
 meade my mouth aw watter. * Fares-te-weel, 
 Watty !' says she : 'ton's a wag aniang t' lasses, 
 and ril see theenae mair!' — 'Nay, dunaet gowl, 
 Nan!' says I, 
 'For, mappen, ere lang, I's be maister raysel;' 
 Sae we buss'd, and 1 tuik a last iuik at the tVlI. 
 
 On I whussel'd and wonder'd ; my bundle I flung 
 Owre my shou'der, when Cwoley he efter me 
 
 sprung, 
 And howled, silly fellow ! and faw^ned at my fit. 
 As if to say — Watty, we munnet part ytt ! 
 At Carel i stuid wi' a straa i' my mouth, 57 
 And they tuik me, nae doubt, for a promiseu youth. 
 
 The weyves com roun me in clusters : ' What 
 weage dus te ax, canny lad?' says yen, — ' \\'ev, 
 three pun and a crown ; wunnet beate a hair o* 
 my beard.' ' What can te duiV says anudder. — 
 'l)uil wey 1 can plow, sow, mow, sheer, thresh, 
 deyke, milk, kurn, muck a byre, sing a psalm, 
 mend car-gear, dance a whornpeype, niek a 
 naig's tail, hunt a brock, or feight iver a yen o' 
 my weii;ht 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 hangVl i'- the street, 
 And skinn'd, God forgie them! for shoon to their 
 feet!
 
 CrMEEr.I AND BALT.ACS. 47 
 
 I cry'd, and they cawM me peer hawf-witted clown, 
 And banttr'd and follow'd me aw up and down : 
 Neist my deame she e'en starv'd me, that niver 
 
 leev'd wet^l, — 
 Her hard words and luiks wad ha'e freeten'd the 
 
 de'il : 
 
 She hed a lang beard, for aw t' warl leyke 
 a billy gwoat, wi' a kill-dried frosty feace ; and 
 then the smawest leg o' mutton in aw Carei 
 market sarrat the cat, me, and her, for a week. 
 The bairns meadesec gam on us, andthunder'd 
 at the rapper, as if to waken a corp ; when I 
 open'd the duir, they threw stour i' my ten, 
 and caw'd me daft \Vatty; 
 
 Sae I pack'd up ray duds when my quarter was out. 
 And, wi' weage i' my pocket, 1 saunter d about, 
 
 Suin my reet-hand breek pocket they pick'd in a 
 
 fray, 
 And wi' tifteen wheyte shillings they slipp'd clean 
 
 awav, 
 Forby my twee letters frae mudder and Xan, 
 ^Vhere they said Carel lasses wad Watty trepan : 
 But 'twad tek a lang day just to tell what 1 savv- — 
 Kow I skeap'd fiae the gallows, the sowdjers 
 
 and aw. 
 
 Ay! there were some fworgery chaps bad me 
 just sign my neame. * Nay.' says 1, 'you've 
 gotten a wrang pig by the lug, for I canuo
 
 48 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 write I' Then a fellow like a lobster, aw leac'd 
 and feather'd, ax'd me, ' Watty, wull te list? 
 thou's owther be a general or a gomoral.' — 
 * Xav, I wunnet — that's plain : I's content wi' 
 a cwoat o' mudders spinnin.' 
 
 Now, wi' twee groats and tuppence, Til e'eu 
 
 toddle heame, 
 But ne'er be a sowdger wheyle "Watty's my neame. 
 
 How my mudder '11 gowl, and my fadder '11 stare, 
 "When 1 tell them peer cwoley they'll never see 
 
 mair, 
 Then they'll bring me a stuil ; — as for Xan, she'll 
 
 be fain, 
 "When I kiss her, God bless her, agean and agean! 
 The barn and the byre, and the auld hollow tree, 
 "Will just seem like cronies yen's fidgin to see. 
 
 The sheep '11 nit ken "^Vatty's voice now ! 
 The peat-stack we us'd to lake roun '11 be brunt 
 ere this ! As for Xan, she'll be owther married 
 or broken-hearted ; but sud aw be w-eel at 
 Croglin, we'll ha'e feastin, fiddlin, dancin, 
 drinkin, singin, and smuikin, aye, till aw's 
 blue about us : 
 
 Amang aw our neybors sec wonders I'll tell, 
 But niver mair leave my auld friends or the fell. 
 
 January 10, 1803,
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 49 
 
 JENNY'S COMPLAINT. 
 
 Tune — "Nancy's to the gve-enwood gane." 
 
 O, lass ! I've fearfu' news to tell ! 
 
 What thinks te's come owre Jemmy 1 
 The sowdgers hev e'en pick'd him up. 
 
 And sent him far, far, frae me : 
 To Carel he set off wi' wheat ; 
 
 Them ill reed-cwoated fellows^ 
 Suin wil'd him in — then meade him drunk : 
 
 He'd better geane to th' gallows. 
 
 The varra seet o' his cockade 
 
 It set us a\v a-crj'ing ; 
 For me, 1 fairly fainted tweyce, 
 
 Tou may think that was tryin : 
 iNIy faddtr wad ha'e paid the smart, 
 
 And show'd a go\\den guinea, 
 But, lack-a-day I he'd kiss'd the buik, 
 
 And that '11 e'en kill Jenny. 
 
 AVhen Nichol tells about the wars. 
 
 It's war than deeth to hear him j 
 I oft steal out, to hide my tears. 
 
 And cannot, cannot bear him ; 
 For aye he jeybes, and cracks his jwokes. 
 
 And bids me nit forseake him ; 
 A brigadier, or grandidier, 
 
 He says, they're sure to meake him. 
 D
 
 50 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 If owre the stibble fields I gang, 
 
 I think I see him ploughin. 
 And ev'ry bit o' bread 1 eat, 
 
 It seenis o' Jemmy's sowing : 
 lie led the varra cwoals we burn. 
 
 And when the fire I's leetin, 
 To think the peats \\ ere in his hands. 
 
 It sets my heart a beatin. 
 
 ^V hat can I de ? I 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 wddout yen's dearie. 
 I'll suin lig in my cauld, cauld grave, 
 
 For, oh ! of life I'm weary ! 
 
 April 19, 1803. 
 
 MATTHEW MACREE.29 
 Tune — " The wee pickle tow." 
 
 Sin I furst work'd a sampleth at Biddy Forsyth's, 
 I ne'er saw the marrow o' ]Matthew iMacree ; 
 
 For down his braid back hing his lang yallow lock?. 
 And he hes 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,
 
 CUMntRLAND BALI.AI)S. 01 
 
 And talk? «ec hard words as nit yen understand,, — 
 O, what a top scholar is ilutthew lUacree ! 
 
 'Twas nobbet last Easter his cock wan the main, 
 
 1 stuid i' the ring rejoicin to see ; 
 The bairns they aw siiouted, the lasses were fain. 
 And the lads o' their shoulders bore Slatthew 
 Macree : 
 Then at lowpin he'll gang a full yard owre them 
 
 aw. 
 And at rustlin, whilk o' them dare try him a faw? 
 And whee is't that aye carries off the fit-baw ? 
 But the King of aw Cumberland, Mathew iMacrce 
 
 That time when he fit full two hours at the fair. 
 
 And lang Jemmy Smith gat a famish black eV ; 
 
 Peer Jemmy I yence thouglit wad never paw mair, 
 
 <\.nd I was reet sworry for 31atthew Macree 
 
 I he wad she 
 
 heale town. 
 
 And to feight, rin,or russle, he put down a crown ; 
 Saint Gworge, the girt champion, o' fame and 
 renown , 
 Was nobbet a waffler to Matthew ]Macree. 
 
 On Sundays, in bonny wheyte weastcoat when 
 dress'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.
 
 52 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 Then his feyne eight-page ditties, and garlands 
 
 sae sweet. 
 They mek us aw merry the lang winter nect, 
 But, when he's nit amang us, we never seem reet, 
 Sae fond are the lasses o' IMatthew Macree. 
 
 iNIy fadder he left me a house on the hill. 
 
 And I's get a bit Ian sud my aunty dee. 
 Then I'll wed bonny Matthew whenever he will, 
 For gear is but trash widout IMatthew ]Macree : 
 AVe'll try to shew girt fwok content in a cot. 
 And when in our last heame together we\e got, 
 May our bairns and their neybors oft poiat to the 
 spot 
 Where lig honest Matthew and Jenny Macree, 
 
 June 12, 1803. 
 
 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 noet. 
 Them that's fash'd wi' nae bairns iver happy mun 
 
 be, 
 Forwe'veyen, andshe's maister o' baiththee (Sc me. 
 
 1 can't for the life o' me get her to wark, 30 
 Is or aw the lang Sunday to ga near a kurk, 
 Kor frae week en to week en a chapter to read. 
 For the Bible ligs stoury abuin the duir head.
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 53 
 
 She yence cud ha'c scrammel'd and writ her awn 
 
 neame, 
 And, Sunday and warday, was teydey at heame 
 JS'ow, to see her whol'd stockins, her brat and 
 
 her gown, 
 She's a shem and a byzen to aw the hcalc town. 
 
 O wad she be guided, and stick till her wheel, 
 There's nin kens how fain I wad seehcrdui weel ; 
 For she's thy varra picture, and aw that we have, 
 Uut thur neets' warks '11 bring my grey hairs to 
 the grave. 
 
 'Twas nobbet last week, in a passion I flew. 
 And gev her a trounce — bur sair did I rue ; 
 Then I bid her e'en pack up her duds, and we'd 
 
 part. 
 For to streyke my ain bairn it just brtks my auld 
 
 heart. 
 
 There's that ill Calep Crosby, he's never away. 
 He's gleymin and watchin her beath neetandday ; 
 Sud be come in my clutches a ken-guid he's get. 
 For, tho' auld, Icame, and feeble, I'll maister him yet 
 
 ril away owre to Whitten* a press-gang to seek; 
 And they's lig him in irons, ay this varra week ; 
 On his back he may tie her, a donnet is slie. 
 And sha'not be maister o' beath thee and me ! 
 •Whitehaven. 
 
 July 2, 1803.
 
 54 CLMI5ERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 FECKLESS WULLY. 
 
 Wee Wiilly wuns on yonder brow, 
 And Wnlly he hes dowters twee ; 
 
 But nought cud feckless Wully dui, 
 To get them sweethearts weel to see. 
 
 For ?.reg she luik'd baith reet and left. 
 Her een they bvvor'd a body thro' ; 
 
 And Jen was deef, and dun, and daft. 
 And de'il a yen com thereto woo. 
 
 The neybor's wink'd, the neybors jeer'd, 
 The neybors flyi'd at thorn in scworn. 
 
 And monle a wicked trick they play'd 
 
 Peer Meg and Jen, beath neet and mworn. 
 
 As Wully went ae day to wark. 
 He kick\l a sumniet wid his shoe ; 
 
 And Wully glowr'd, and Wully girn'd, 
 
 ' Guide us !' quoth he, ' whatha'e we now?' 
 
 And Wully cunn'd owre six scwore pun. 
 And back he ran wi' nimmle heel. 
 
 And aye owre his shoulder glym'd. 
 And thought he'd dealins %vi'' the de'il. 
 
 And Wully 's bought a reet snug house, 
 And Wully's bought a bit o' Ian ; 
 
 And IMeg and Jen are trig and crouse, 
 Sin he the yellow pwokie fan.
 
 CUMBERI-AXD BALLADS. 55 
 
 Nae mair the nevbors wink and jeer, 
 liut aw shi-k bans wi' them, 1 trow ; 
 
 And ilk ven talks o' William's g-ear, 
 For Wully's chang'd to William now. 
 
 And some come east, and some come west. 
 And some come monic a mile to woo ; 
 
 And Meg luiks straight, and Jen has 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 ; 
 Let wise men aw say v.hat they will. 
 
 It's money meks the meer to gang. 
 
 JuU 3rd, 1803. 
 
 THE BLECKELL MURRY-XEET. 
 
 Ay, lad! sec a murry-neet we've hed at ]51eckell, 31 
 
 The sound 0' the fiddle yet rings in my ear ; 
 Aw reet dipt and heeled were the lads and the 
 lasses, 
 
 And monie a cliver lish hizzy was there : 
 The bettemier swort sat snug i' the parlour, 
 
 r the pantry the sweethearterscutter'dsae soft ; 
 The dancers they kick'dupa stour in-the kitclien ; 
 
 At lanter the card-lakers satin the loft. 
 
 The cloo-ger o' Dawston's a famish top hero. 
 And bangs aw the player-fwok twenty to yen ;
 
 56 CUMEEP.LAXD BALLADS. 
 
 Ileptampt widliis fit, and he shouted and roystertd, 
 Till the s.weat it ran off at his varra chin en ; 
 
 Then he held up ae han like the spout of a tea-pot, 
 And danc'dcrossthe buckle andleather-te-patch 
 
 "When they ciy'd ' bonny Bell !' he lap up to the 
 ceilin, 
 And aye cracked histhoumsforabit of a fratch. 
 
 The Hiverby 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 thesneck of a yeat ; 
 The lasses o' Bleckell are sae monie angels ; 
 
 The Cummersdale beauties aye glory in fun — 
 God help the peer fellow that gleyrces at them 
 dancin, 
 
 He'll steal away heartlc-ss as sure as a gun. 
 
 The 'bacco was Strang, and the yell it was ly they, 
 
 And monie a yen bottomed a whart leyke a 
 kurn ; 
 Da ft Fred, i' the nuik, leyke a hawf-rwcsteddeevil, 
 
 Teltsly smuttystvvories, and made them awgurn; 
 Then yen sune Tom Linton, anudder Dick Watters 
 
 The auld farmers braggVl o' their fillies and 
 fwoals, 
 ^Vi' jeybin andjwokin, and hotchin and laughin. 
 
 Till some thowt it teyrae to set off to the cwoals. 
 
 But, hod'.Iforgat —v.hen the clock strackeleeben, 
 Tiie dubbler was brong in, wi' wheyte breed 
 and brown ;
 
 CUMDERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 57 
 
 The gv.lly was sharp, the g'irt cheese was a topper, 
 And lumps big as lapsteans our lads gobbled 
 down : 
 Aye the douse dapper lanleddy cried, ' Eat and 
 welcome, 
 * 1' God's neame step forret ; nay, dunnet be 
 bleate !' 
 Our guts aw weel pang\I, we buck'd up for blin 
 Jenny, 
 And neist paid the shot on a girt pewder plate. 
 
 Now full to the thropple, wi' head-warks and 
 heart-aches, 
 wSome crap to the clock-kease instead o' the duir; 
 Then sleepin and snowrin tuik pleace o' their 
 rwoarin; 
 And teane abuin tudder they laid on the fluir. 
 The last o"" December, lang lang we'll remember, 
 At five i' the mworn, eighteen hundred & twee : 
 Here's health and success to the brave Jwohney 
 Dawston, 
 And monie sec meetings may we leeve to sec ! 
 Julq 4th, 18U3. 
 
 THE DELIGHTS OF LOVE. 
 Tune — " Fareivell to Bumf. 
 
 The summer was out o'seet, 
 
 His partin beams danc'd on the fluid 
 Tiie fisher watch'd the silver fry, 
 
 As i' the stream he bcndin"- stuid ;
 
 58 CUMBEULAND BALLADS. 
 
 The blackbnrfl mourned the clowsin day, 
 And cawd )us partner to his nest; 
 
 When I up Caidew tuik my way, 
 And met the lass I aye like best. 
 
 I gazM upon her matchless feace. 
 
 That fairer than a lily seem'd ; 
 I mark\l the magic o' her e'e. 
 
 That wi luive's powerfu' leetnin beam\l ; 
 I saw her cheek of brettest red, 
 
 That, blushing, telt a lover's pain, 
 And seizYl a kiss, if 'twas a crime. 
 
 Ye Gode ! oft may I sin again ! 
 
 Fa=;t flew the hours — now ruse the muin. 
 
 And telt us it was time to part 3 
 1 set her to her mudder's duir. 
 
 She whisper'd low, 'Thou's stown my heart! 
 I thro' the lattice stule a glance, 
 
 And heard her angry mudder chide : 
 Then thought of awa parents cares, 
 
 As frae her cottage heame i hied. 
 
 I've teasted pleasures dearly tjought. 
 
 And read mankind in monie a page : 
 But woman, woman, sweetens life, 
 
 Frae giddy youth to feeble age. 
 Ye fuils, aye court coy Fortune's smile ; 
 
 Ye rakes, in quest of pleasure rove : 
 Ye drunkards, drown each sense in wine ; 
 
 Be mine the dear delights of love ! 
 
 Jt//v 8, 1803.
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 59 
 
 RUTH. 
 Tune — ** jMij aiild guidman.'''' 
 
 The crackets were chirping on the hearth ; 
 
 Our wife reel'd gairn, and sat i' th' nuik ; 
 I tifik a whifF o' my cutty black peype ; 
 
 Ld! Dick by fire-leet plied his buik ; 
 The youugernier bairns at heeds and cross, 
 
 Sat laikin menily in a row ; 
 The wind clash'd tui the entry duir, 
 
 And down the chimney fell the snow. 
 
 * ! says our weyfe, then fetchVl a seegh, 
 
 ' Guidman, we sud reet thankfu' be ! 
 ' How monie a scwore this angry neet, 32 
 ' 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. 
 
 ' She aye was honest and wcel to see, 
 
 ' 1 sayt — she hed nae faut but yen — 
 ' She ofi" wid a taistrel sowdger lad, 
 
 * And niver yence sent the scribe of a pen : 
 ' O man ! we sud forget and forgive ; 
 
 ' The brute beast for its awn '11 feel ; 
 ' ^Vere mine awt' warl, ay ten times mair, 
 
 ' rd giVt to see her alive and weel. 
 'Wheakens, peer thing! what she's endur\l, 
 
 ' Sin that sad hour she left her heame ;
 
 60 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 ' Thou turn'd her out ; it hurt me pair, 
 ' And aw our neibors cried out phem.' 
 
 Here stopped our weyfe, and shuik her head. 
 While tears ran tiicklin down her cheek ; 
 
 I fan the trath o' what she said, 
 But deil a word cud owther speak. 
 
 Just then the latch was lifted up ; 
 
 ' Ay, that's a boggle, !' cried out lal Ann ; 
 In bounc'd my bairn, and, at my feet, 
 
 Cried, ' O, forgi'e rael — here's my guidman !' 
 Our dame she shriek'd, and dropp'd her wark ; 
 
 I bless'd them beath — the bairns were fain • 
 We talk'd the stormy neet away, 
 
 And, God be praisM, we've met ogain ! 
 
 July 24, 1803. 
 
 THE PECK O' PUNCH. 
 
 'Twas Tvob and Jock, and Hal and Jack,'i3 
 
 And Tom and Ned forby, 
 \Vi' Archy drank a Peek o' Punch, 
 
 Ae neet when they were dry ; 
 And aye they jwok'd, and laugh'd, and smuik'd. 
 
 And sang wi' heartfelt glee, 
 '* To-night were yen, to-morrow geane, 
 
 " Syne let us merry be 1" 
 
 Saint Mary's niuckle clock bumm'*d eight. 
 When each popp'd in his head;
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. Gl 
 
 But ere they rose, they'd fairly drank 
 The shearae-feac'd muin to bed ; 
 
 And aye they jwokVl, &c. 
 
 To monie a bonnle Carel lass, 
 
 The fairest o' the town, 
 And monie a manly British chiel. 
 
 The noggin glass went roun ; 
 
 And aye they jwok'd, &c. 
 
 A neyhor's fau'ts they ne'er turn'd owre, 
 
 Nor yence concealVl their ain — 
 Had Care keak'd in, wi' wae-worn feace, 
 
 They'd kick'd hiui out again ; 
 
 For aye they jwok'd, &c 
 
 The daily toll, the hunter's spoil, 
 
 The faithless foreign pow'rs, 
 The ConsuPs fate, his o'ergrown state, 
 
 By turns beguil'd the hours ; 
 
 And aye they laugh 'd, &:c. 
 
 Let others cringe, and bow the head, 
 
 A purse-proud sumph to please ; 
 Fate, grant to me aye liberty 
 
 To mix with souls like these ; 
 Then oft we'll j woke, and laugh, and smuik. 
 
 And sing wi' heartfelt glee, 
 " To-night we're yen, to-morrow geane, 
 
 " Syne let us merry be 1" 
 
 November 3, 1803.
 
 62 CUMP.ERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 THE TIIUIPvSBY WITCH. 
 Tune—" Oer Bogie:' 
 
 There's Harraby and Tarrabj', 
 
 And Wigganby beseyde ,: 
 There's Oughterby and Souterby,* 
 
 And bys beath far and weyde ; — 
 Of strappin, sonsy, rwosy queens, 
 
 They aw may brag a few ; 
 But Tiiuirsby for a bonny lass 
 
 13an cap them aw I trow. 
 
 Her mudder sells a swope o' drink. 
 
 It is l)eath stout and brown. 
 And Etty is the hinny fowt 
 
 Of aw tlie 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. 
 
 Her een are leyke twee cursmass sleas. 
 
 But tweyce as breet and clear ; 
 Nae rwose cud iver match her feace. 
 
 That yet grew on a breer ; 
 At toun, kurk, market, dance or fair, 34 
 
 She meks their hearts aw stoun, 
 And conquers mair than Bonyprat, 
 
 Whene'er she keeks aroun. 
 
 • Names of Cumberland Villages.
 
 CUMBERLAND DALLADS. 63 
 
 Oft graitliM in aw their kurk-gawn gear, 
 
 Leyke nowble Iwords at cwort, 
 Our lads 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 hand has touch'd. 
 
 It sets him in a lowe. 
 Yence Thuirsby lads were — whea but we, 
 
 And cud ha'e bang'd the lave. 
 But now they hing their lugs, and luik 
 
 Leyke fwok stown frae the grave ; 
 And what they ail in head or heart 
 
 iSae potticary knov.-s — 
 The little glancin Thuirsby Witch, 
 
 She is the varra cause. 
 Of Pdack-eyed Susan, IMary Scott, 
 
 The lass o' Patie's Mill, 
 Of Barbara Allan, Sally Gray, 
 
 The Lass o' Richmond-hill, 
 Of Nancy Dawson, IMolly Mog, 
 
 Though thousands sing wi' glee. 
 This village beauty, out and out, 
 
 She bangs them aw to see. 
 
 Koiember 10, 1803. 
 
 THE VILLAGE GANG. 
 Tune — " Jenny dang the weaver.'" 
 There's sec a gang in our town, 
 The deevil cannot wrang them.
 
 64 CUMBERLAND BALLAES. 
 
 And cud yen get tem put i' preut, 
 Aw England cuddent bang them ; 
 
 Our dogs e'en bite aw decent t\vok. 
 Our varra naig? they kick them. 
 
 And if they nobbut ax their way, 
 Our lads set on and lick them. 
 
 Furst wi' Dick Wiggem we'll begin. 
 
 The teyney, greasy, wobster ; 
 lie's got a gob frae lug to lug. 
 
 And neb like onie lobster: 
 Dick' ^^'eYfe, they say, was branton bred. 
 
 Her raudder was a howdy, 
 And when peer Dick's thrang on the luira. 
 
 She's off to Jwohnie Gowdy. 
 
 But as for Jwohnie, silly man, 35 
 
 lie threeps about the nation, 
 And talks o' stocks and Charley Fox, 
 
 And meakes a blusteration ; 
 He reads the paper yence a week. 
 
 The auld fwok geape and wonder — 
 "Were Jwohnie 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,
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 65 
 
 And sud he hing on Carel Sands, 
 iSit yen wad e'er be sworry. 
 
 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 gulfs leame decent fwok, 
 
 It's time some laws sud alter. 
 
 The schuilmaister's a conjurer,36 
 
 For when our lads are drinkin, 
 Aw maks o' tricks he'll dui wi' cairds. 
 
 And tell fwok what they're thinkin; 
 He'll glower at maps, and spell hard words, 
 
 For hours and hours together, 
 And in the muin 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 anudder ; 
 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. 
 
 Jack Mar, the hirplin piper's son. 
 Can bang them aw at leeinj 
 £
 
 66 CVMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 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 bonnie fray 
 
 Come out last Whissen-Monday. 
 
 The doctor he's a parfet pleague. 
 
 And hawf the parish puzzens ; 
 The lawyer sets fwok by the lugs, 
 
 And cheats themneist byduzzens; 
 The parson swears a bonny stick 
 
 Amang our sackless asses ; 
 The 'Squire's ruin'd scwores and scwores 
 
 O' canny country lasses. 
 
 There's twenty mair, course as neck beef, 
 
 ]f 3-en hed time to neame them ; 
 Left-handed Sim, slape-finger'd Sam, 
 
 ]S'ae law cou'd iver teame them ; 
 There's blue-nebb'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 1 
 
 November 27, 1803. 
 
 DICKY GLENDININ. 
 Tune — " As Patie came up frae the glen.'' 
 
 .My fadder was down at the mill, 
 .My mudder was out wid her spinnin,
 
 CUMBEnLAND BALLADS. 67 
 
 When, whea sud slip uhietly in, 
 But canny lal Dicky Glendiiiin ; 
 
 He poud off" his muckle top cvvoat, 
 And drew in a stuil by the halleu. 
 
 Then fworc'd me to sit on his knee. 
 And suin a sad teale began telliii 
 
 " 0, Jenny ! O Jenny !" says he, 
 
 "IMy leykin for tee 1 can'\ sinudder ; 
 It meade me as sick as a peet. 
 
 To think tou'd teane up wid anudder : 
 "What! there's been a bonny te-dui 
 
 About a lang hulk of a miller ! 
 He's weyde-gobb'd andill-natur'd tui. 
 
 But ae word says aw — he hes siller. 
 
 " The lasses aye fly re and mak gam. 
 
 And ax me, what's got Jenny Foister? 
 The lads, when we meet i' the Iwones, 
 
 Cry out, ' Sairy Dick ! what, tou's lost her !' 
 "When Rowley, the miller, last neet 
 
 I met, as we come 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 leyk'd me best of onie ? 
 
 And hes te forgotten the teyme, 
 
 Tou said luive was better than money ? 
 
 And hes te forgotten the teyme, 
 
 I mark'd our twea neames on a shillin {
 
 68 CUMBERLAND BAIXADS. 
 
 Tou promised to wear't neist thy heart, 
 And then to wed me tou was willin. 
 
 " The furst teyme you're cried i' the kurk, 
 
 I'll step my ways up and forbid it ; 
 "When cauld i' my cotiin, they'll say, 
 
 'Twas e'en Jenny Foster tiiat did it ! 
 I\Iv ghost, the lang neet, aw in wheyte, 
 
 ^^ ill shek thee, and gar thee aw shiver — 
 O the tears how they hop owre my cheeks, 
 
 To think 1 sud Iwose thee for ever I" 
 
 " O, Dicky ! O, Dicky !" says I, 
 
 " I nowther heed house, Ian, or siller; 
 Ton's twenty teymes dearer to me, 
 
 '1 han onie lang hulk of a miller 1" 
 A match we struck up in a crack, 
 
 And Dicky's got sticks and got beddin ; 
 IVly fadder and mudder are fain — 
 
 Then hey for a guid merry weddin ! 
 
 December iOth, 1803. 
 
 THE INVASION. 
 Ti'NE — " Lingo's Wedding."' 
 
 How fens te, Dick 1 There's fearfu' news- 
 Udsbreed ! the French are corain ! 
 
 There's nought at Carel but parades, 
 And sec a drum, drum, drumrain : 
 
 The volunteers and brigadiers 
 Are aw just mad to meet them j
 
 CUMBERLAXD BALLADS. 69 
 
 A.nd England e'en mun hing her head, 
 If Britons dunnet beat them. 
 
 Then there's the Rangers aw in green. 
 
 Commanded by brave Howard — 
 Of aw his noble kin, nit yen 
 
 Was iver caw'd a coward ; — 
 They'll pop the Frenchmen off leyke steyfe, 
 
 If e'er they meet, I'll bail them : 
 "WV sec true Britons at their heeds. 
 
 True courage cannot fail them. 
 
 Thur French are di-pert wicked chiels, 
 
 If itbe true they tell us, 
 For where they've been, fwok curse the day 
 
 Thev e'er saw sec sad fellows ; 
 They plant the tree o' liberty, 
 
 And hirlings dance around it ; 
 But millions water't wi' their tears, 
 
 And bid the de'il confound it. 
 
 Our parson says, 37 " WebangVl them still, 
 
 And bang them still we mun, man ; 
 For hedesarves a coward's deeth, 
 
 That frae them e'er wad run, man : 
 What feckless courts and worn-out states, 
 
 They've conquered just by knavery ; 
 But every volunteer will pruive, 
 
 A Briton kens nae slavery." 
 
 I've thowt and thowt, sin I kent ought, 
 Content's the greatest blissin, —
 
 70 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 And he that seizes my bit Ian 
 
 Desarves a guid soun drissin. 
 Auld England, though we count thy fau'ts. 
 
 For iver we'll defend thee ! 
 To foreign tyrants sud we bow, — 
 
 They'll mar, but niver mend thee ! 
 
 December 20th, 1803. 
 
 GRIZZY. 
 
 Tune — " My auld gukbnan.'" 
 
 The witch weyfe l)egg'd in our backseyde,38 
 
 But went unsarra'd away i' th' pet ; 
 Our Ester kurn'd at e'er she kurn'd, 
 
 But Jiutter the deuce a crum cou'd get. 
 The pez-stackfell, and crush 'd my fadder ; 
 
 JMy mudder cowp'd owre, and leam'd hersel 
 Neist, war and war, what dud we see, 
 
 But Jenny' pet lam drown'd i' the well. 
 
 Auld Grizzy the witch, as some fwok say ,39 
 
 INJeks 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 bleets the cworn wi* her bad e'e ; 
 When cross'd by lasses, they pruive wi' bairn, 
 
 And if she grummel, they're seafe o' twee. 
 I yence sweethearted IMadge o' th' Mill, 
 
 And whea sae thick as she and I ;
 
 CUSIBEni.AND BALLADS. 71 
 
 Auld Whang he promis'd tweescore pun, 
 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 ^ladge to kurk Wull Weer had teane. 
 
 When Deef Dick Maudlin lost his weyfe, 
 
 And said 'twas weel it was nae war ; 
 When Jerry' black filly pick'd the fwoal, 
 
 And hawf-blin Calep fell owre the scar ; 
 When lUanten Marget brunt her rock ; 
 
 When smuggler .Aiat was lost i' the snaw ; 
 When wheezlin VVully was set i' the stocks ; 
 
 Auld Grizzy aye gat the weyte of aw. 
 
 Her feace is like the stump of a yek ; 
 
 She stoops and stowters, sheks and walks ; 
 Bleer-e'ed 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 grave, 
 
 For where she bides few can dui weel. 
 
 February 3, 1804. 
 
 GWORDIE GILL. 
 
 Tune — " Andrew wi' his cutty gun.^ 
 
 Of aw the lads 1 see or ken. 
 
 There's yen 1 like abuin the rest ;
 
 72 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 Ilea's neycer in his war day duds, 
 
 Than others donn'd in aw their best. 
 
 A body's heart's a body's awn, 
 
 And t'ley may si'e't to whea they will ; 
 
 Had 1 crot ten where 1 ha'e neane, 
 I'd gi'e them aw to Gwordie Gill. 
 
 "\A'hea was't that brak our landlword' frarth,40 
 
 Forme, when bairns we went to schuil? 
 Whea was't durst venture mid-thie deep, 
 
 To get my clog out o' the puil 1 
 And when tlie filly flang me off, 
 
 And lang and lang I laid sae ill, 
 Whea was't gowTd owre me day and neet. 
 
 And wish'd me weel? 'Twas Gwordie Gill. 
 
 Oft mounted on his lang-tail'd naig, 
 
 \Vi' fevne new hints up till his knee, 
 The laird's daft son Icets i' the faul, 
 
 And keaves as he wad wurry me ; 
 Tho' fadder, mudder, uncle tui, 
 
 To wed this raaz'lin teaze me still, 
 I hear of aw his Ian and brass. 
 
 But oft steal out to Gwordie Gill. 
 
 Frae Carel cousin Fanny com, 
 
 And brong her whev-feac^'d sweetheart down, 
 Wi' sark-neck stuck ab\iin his lugs, 
 
 A peer dipt dinment frae the town : 
 He minc'd and talk'd, and skipp'd and walk'd, 
 
 i5ut tir'd a gangin up the hill,
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 73 
 
 And luikVl as pale as onie corp, 
 Compai'd to rwosie Gwordie Gill. 
 
 My Gwordie's whussle vveel I ken, 41 
 
 I.ang ere we meet, the darkest neet ; 
 And when he lilts and sings skewball, 
 
 \it playhouse music's hawf sae sweet. 
 A body's heart's a body's awn, 
 
 And tliey may gi'e't to whea they will ; 
 I yence had yen, now 1 ha'e neane, 
 
 For it belangs to Gwordie Gill. 
 
 February 10, 1804. 
 
 A WEYFE FOR WULLY MILLER. 
 Tune — " ^I'^'ggy Lauder^ 
 
 Ilout, Wully, lad! cock up thy head, 
 
 ?sor fash thysel about her; 
 ]N ought comes o' nought, sae tek nae thought. 
 
 Ton's better far widout her. 
 Peer man ! her fadder weel we ken. 
 
 He's but an ass-buird meaker ; 
 But she's town-bred, and, silly gowk ! 
 
 Tliou'd gi'e thy teeth to teake her. 
 
 Eve seen thee flyre and jwoke like mad, 
 
 At aw our country fellows ; 
 But now thou seeghs and luiks like death, 
 
 Or yen gawn to the gallows ;
 
 74 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 Thou's sous'd owre head and ears i' luive — 
 
 A ay, nobbet luik at Cwoley ! 
 He wags his tail, as if to say, 
 
 ' Wey, what's the matter, Wully V 
 There's lads but few in our town, 
 
 And lasses wanters plenty, 
 And he that fain wad wed a weyfe 
 
 r\Iay v»eale y?n out o' twenty : — 
 There's Tamer Toppin, Agoy Sharp, 
 
 And dogger Wilkin' Tibby ; 
 There's Greacy Gurvin, flatty Meer, 
 
 And Thingumbob' lal Debby: 
 
 Then there's Wully Guffv' dowter Xan 
 
 At thee aye keeks and glances, 
 For tou's the apple o' their een 
 
 At cairdin neets and dances ; 
 IMv tittv, tui, ae neet asleep, 
 
 Cried, ' Canny Wully :\Jiller !' 
 I poud her hair, she blush'd rwose reed, 
 
 Sae gang thy ways een till her. 
 
 Tell mudder aw the news tou kens; 
 
 To fadder talk o' th' weather ; 
 Then lilt tem up a sang or twea. 
 
 To please tem aw together ; 
 She'll set thee out, then speak thy mind — 
 
 She'll suit thee till a shevin ; 
 But town-bred deames to sec as we, 
 
 Are seldom worth the hevin. 
 
 Fehruary 23, 1804.
 
 CUaiBERLAXD BALLADS. 75 
 
 THE TWEE AULD MEN. 
 
 What, Gabriel! come swat thy ways down on the 
 Sattle, 
 I lansf for a bit of a crack ; 
 Thy granson I sent owre the geate for porne 'bacco — 
 
 The varment '11 niver come back ! — 
 Nay, keep on thy hat : we heed nought about 
 manners : 
 What news about your en' o' the town? 
 Tiiey say the king's badly ; thur times gang- but 
 oddly ; 
 The warl just seems turn'd upseyde down ; 
 Ay, what alterations, and out-o'-way fashions. 
 Sin lal todlin callans were we ! 
 
 O, INIatthew! they've cutten the yeksand the eshes, 
 
 That grew owre anent the kurk waw ! 
 How oft dud we lake just like wild things amang 
 them ; 
 
 But suin we, like them, mun lig low ! 
 The schuil-house is fawn, where we beath larn'd 
 our letters, 
 
 For tee, tou cud figure and write ; 
 I mind42 what a monstrous hard task and a lickin 
 
 Tou gat when tou fit wi' Tom Wheyte ; 
 Wherever yen ranges, the chops and the changes 
 
 Oft mek a tear gusli frae my e'e.
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 MATTHEW. 
 
 Then, Gabey, thou minds when we brak Dinah' 
 worchet — 
 Stown apples bairns aw think are sweet — 
 Deuce tek this bad 'bacco! de'il bin, it '11 draw 
 nin, 
 Yen mud as weel smuik a wet peat ! — 
 ^Vhat, yonder's Rob Donaldson ofot a lang letter. 
 
 And some say it talks of a peace ; 
 But that Ml nit happen i' thy time or my time, 
 
 Widout we can get a new lease- 
 Here, lass! bring some yell in, drinkin's nae 
 failin, 
 Let's moisten our clay ere we dee. 
 
 GABRIEL. 
 
 Ay, Matt ! what they buried auld Glaister last 
 Monday — 
 Peer Jwosep ! we went to ae schuil! — 
 He married deef Marget, theGammelsby beauty, 
 
 A silly proud cat-witted fuil : 
 Ae son pruiv'd a taistrel, and brak up atLunnon, 
 
 But Jwosep he gat aw to pay ; 
 Anudder they said, turn'd out nit quite owre 
 honest, 
 Sae gat off to Botany Bay. — 
 O, man! this frost pinches, and kills fwok by 
 inches, 
 It's een meade a cripple o' me !
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 77 
 
 MATTHEW. 
 
 Ay, Gabey ! it's lang sin thou married Ann 
 Lawson ; 
 Tou minds when we off like the win 
 Frae kurk to the yell-house 1 — What, 1 was weel 
 mounted. 
 And left them aw twea mile behin. 
 Then there was Young Gabey, our weyfe was 
 his goddy, 
 A brave murry cursnin we had ; 
 Wekent nought o' tea, or sec puzzen i' thar days. 
 But drank tweyce-brew'd yell till hawf mad: 
 There was Kitt and Aed iSeilson, and Dan and 
 Wat Wilson, 
 They've aw geane and left thee and me. 
 
 There's ae thing, guid Matthew, I've lang thought 
 of axiu. 
 And that tou mun grant if tou can ; 
 "W^hen I's stiff" and cauld, see me decently coffin'd, 
 
 And laid down aseyde my weyfe Ann. 
 My peer granson Jv.osep, 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 tliee, it wunnet cjistress thee. 
 And happy auld Gabriel can dee.
 
 78 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 MATTHEW, 
 
 Keep up thy hear^, Gabey ! nae guid comes o' 
 grievin ; 
 
 Aye laugh at the warl, if thou'd thrive ; 
 I've buried three vveyves, and mun e'en hev 
 anudder, 
 
 I's quite young 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 1 
 I ne'er thought o' whinin, or gowUn or pinin — 
 
 We're wise when we chearfu' can be. 
 
 Nay but, neighbour Matthew, when ninety lang 
 winters 
 Ha'e bent you, and powder'd the pow, 
 We grane i' th' nuik, wi' few friens or acquaintance, 
 
 And just fin we cannot tell how : 
 For me, l^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's e'en ta'en 
 frae me ; 
 There's nought but the warkhouse for me !
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS, 79 
 
 My fadder, Godrusthim I wi'pinchin andpleenin, 
 
 Scieap'd up aw the gear he cud get ; 
 I've been a sad deevil, and spent gowd i' gowpens, 
 
 But still ha'e a hantle left yet : 
 Come gi'es thy hand, Gabey!43 tou's welcome 
 as maybe, 
 My purse and my ambrie to share ; 
 We'll talk of auld times, — eat, drink, andbemerry: 
 
 Thy granson sail get what we spare : — 
 Then leet thy pipe, Gabey! tou's welcome as 
 may be, 
 They's ne'er mek a beggar o'' thee ! 
 
 March 14, 1804. 
 
 UNCLE WULLY. 
 Tune — " Woo'd and married an' a'*" 
 
 ' It's a comical warl this we live in,' 
 
 Says Calep, and Calep says reet; 
 For Matty, thafs got aw the money, 
 
 Has e'en geane and wedded day I'd Peat. 
 He's nobbet a heather-feac'd maz'iin. 
 
 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 but she'd little to de. 
 To tek sec a hawflin as he. 
 That nowther kens A, B, nor C I — 
 Nay, what sec a pair can ne'er 'gree !
 
 80 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 He ne'er hes a teale ■ftidout laitin, 
 
 And liardleys can grease his awn clogs ; 
 He many a decent man's dowter I 
 
 He's fitter to lig araang hogs ! 
 At the clock for an hour he'll keep glymln, 
 
 But de'il e'er the time he can tell ; 
 And my niece, for that ae word husband. 
 
 Has e'en geane and ruin'd hersel. 
 
 De'il bin, &:c. 
 Her fadder, God keep him ! my billy, 
 
 Ay, thought her the flovv'r o' them aw ; 
 And said on his deeth-bed, * O, Wully ! 
 
 ' Luik till her, man I when I lig low 1' 
 I meade her beath reader and writer — 
 
 JNin 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 grace : 
 For me, I'll e'en 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 seek a mazlin as he, 
 That nowther kens A, B, nor C I — 
 ]\ay, what sec a pair can ne'er 'gree ! 
 
 April 10, 1804.
 
 CUMntRLAND BALLADS. 81 
 
 GUID STRANG YELL. 
 
 Our Ellek likes fat bacon weel,'^4 
 
 And haver-bannock pleases Dick; 
 A cowd-lword meks lal Wully fain, 
 
 And cabbish aye turns Pliilip sick ; 
 Our deame's for gurdle-keake 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 wife and bairns 'buin aw 1 prize — ' ^ 
 
 There's music i' their varra din : 
 I labour suin, I labour leate, 
 
 And chearfu' eat my humble meal ; 
 My weage can feed and dead us aw, 
 
 And whiles affords me guid Strang yell . ' 
 
 What's aw the warl widout content? 
 
 VVi' that and health man can't be peer; 
 We suin slip oft' frae friens and foes. 
 
 Then whea but fuils wad feight for gear : 
 *Bout kings and consuls gowks may fratch ; 
 
 For me I scworn to vex mysel. 
 But laugh at courts and owre-grown knaves, 
 
 When I've a hush o' guid Strang yell. 
 
 April 22, 1804.
 
 82 CUMBERLAKD BALLADS. 
 
 BURGH RACES. 
 
 O, Wully! had tou nobbetbeen at Burgh Races!-!^ 
 
 It seem'd, lad, as if aw the warl were met; 
 Some went to be seen, others oft' for divarsion. 
 
 And monie went there a lock money to bet ; 
 The cup was aw siller, and letter'd reet neycely, 
 
 Afeyne naig they've put on't, forby my lword'3 
 neame ; 
 It hods nar a quart, for monie drank out on't, 
 
 And open'd their gills till they cu'dn't creep 
 heame. 
 
 There was, * How fens te. Tommy T — 'What, 
 Jwosep ! I's gaily :46 
 *Wey, is there ought unketi' your country seyde? 
 ' Here, landlword ! a noggin !' — ' Whea rides the 
 
 Collector]' 
 ' "What iNleason' auld meer can bang aw far and 
 
 weyde ! ' 
 There wur snaps, yell, nuts, ginger-bread, shwort- 
 keakes, 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 the awners and reyders forby. 
 
 Ere they saddl'd, the gamlers peep'd sair at the 
 horses ; 
 Sec scrudgin, the fwok were just ready to brust;
 
 cvMijtai.AND iiArXAi>s. 83 
 
 AVr sweaiin and bettin they nieiulu a sad hay -bay : 
 
 * I'll \vj: six to four I — ' Done ! cum down wi' 
 
 the (lust !' 
 ' What think ye o' Lawson ?' — 'The field for a 
 guinea I' 
 
 * I'll mention the winner ! dare onie yen layV 
 Jwohn Jilaylock' reed handkitcher wav'd at the 
 
 dissnens ; 
 Atstartin.hecried, 'Yen, twee, three, put away!' 
 
 They went off leyke leetnin — the auld nieer's a 
 topper — 
 She fiL'w like an arrow, and shew'd tern her tail ; 
 They hugg'd, whupp'd, andspurr'd, but cud niver 
 yence touch her — 
 The winners they rear'd, and the Iwosers turn'd. 
 pale ; 
 Peer Lawson gat dissen'd, and sae sud the tudders. 
 Burst 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. 
 
 Leyke pez in a pot, neist at Sansfield 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 kisses they beldei'd out, ' JMan thysel. 
 Jemmy 1''17 
 His comrades they poud off his cwoat and his 
 sark :
 
 84 CUMBERLAND BALLADS, 
 
 They fit, lugg'd, and lurry'd, aw owTe blood and 
 
 batter, 
 The landlword com in, and cried, * Shem o' sec 
 
 wark !' 
 
 There wur smugglers, excisemen, horse-cowpers, 
 and parsons, 
 Sat higglety-pigglety, aw fare a-leyke ; 
 And mowdy-warp Jacky — ay, man it was funny! — 
 He meade them aw laugh when he stuck in a 
 creyke. 
 There were lasses 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. 
 
 BIDDY. 
 Tl'XE — " Since love is the plan.'''' 
 
 'Twas frost and thro' leet, wid a greymin o' snaw, 
 When 1 went to see Biddy, the flow'r o' them aw; 
 To meet was agreed on at Seymy' deyke nuik. 
 Where I saunter'd wi' monie a seegh and lang luik. 
 But poud up my spirits and oft' till her heame. 
 For when fwok mean reet, way, what need they 
 tliink sheame !
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 85 
 
 I peepM through the window to see what was 
 
 duin :48 
 Iler fadder sat whusslin, and greasing his shoon ; 
 Her mudder sat darnin, and smuikin the while ; 
 And Biddy was spinnin, the neet to beguile; 
 Iler 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; 
 lie struive for a kiss, then she up in a crack. 
 And suin i' the faul, vvi' great pleasure we met. 
 But that happy moment we ne'er can forget : 
 To be mine she promised agean and agean, 
 And the priest, if God spares us, will suin mek 
 us yen. 
 
 Ma)j 15, 1804. 
 
 DINAH DUFTON. 
 Tune — '* Good night, and Jou he ?rj' voii a'' 
 
 Peer Dinah Dufton's e'en wi' bairn, 49 
 
 Oh, but I's unco sworry for't ! 
 A bonnier or a teydier lass, 
 
 No niver yet fell i' the durt : 
 Auld Tim, her fadder, turn'd her out 
 
 At mid neet, tho' 'twas frost and snaw ; 
 She owre the geate, — what cud she del — 
 
 And sobb'd and gowlVl, and telt us aw. 
 
 My fadder shuik his head at furst. 
 But spak and acted leyke a man ;
 
 8^5 CX7MBKRLAND BALLADS. 
 
 ' Dinr.h !* says he, ' ton sannot want, 
 
 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 t'lee out ! peer luckless bairn ! 
 
 Thy fadder e'en mun hardened be !' 
 God niver raeade a heartier lass, 
 
 For she wad sing for iver mair ; 
 Yet, when peer fwok were in distress. 
 
 To hear on't, Oh 1 it hurt her sair I 
 This luive, they sav, hides monie fau'ts ; 
 
 Peer tliino ! the warl she little knew ! 
 But if she'd been by me advis'd, 
 
 She wadden't hed sec cause to rue. 
 At Ro^lev Fair she chanc'd to leet 
 
 O' manofrel Wull, that wicked tuil ; 
 He'd larn'd to hannel weel his feet, 
 
 And kept a l)it o' dancin schuil : 
 A fortune-teller neist he bri'b\i. 
 
 To sav the match was meade a])uin ; 
 But when he'd brong his ends about, 
 
 }le nobbet laughM and left her suin. 
 Kow IJinah's apron's grown quite shwort ; 
 
 Dull, downcast, outcry o' the lave! 
 Aw dav" she whinges in our loft. 
 
 And wishes sbe were in her grave : 
 But manerel \Vull, that wicked tuil, 
 
 .My fadder says sail lig in jail ; 
 And he that ruins onie lass, 
 
 De'il tek the man that wad him bnil. 
 
 July It), 1804,
 
 CVMKERI.AND BALLADS. 87 
 
 NED CARNAUGIIAN. 
 
 Tine—" The Miller of Dee." 
 
 My mudder was teakin her nuin's rest, 
 
 My fadder was out at the hay, 
 When Ned Carnauohan com buncin in, 
 
 And luik'd as he'd o^otten a flay : 
 
 * O, Sib !' says he, ' I's duin wi' te ; — ■ 
 
 • Xay, what, thou blushes and staires ! — 
 
 * I seed thee last neet wi' bow-hough'd Peat, 
 
 ' And de'il tek them that cares !' 
 
 Says I to Xed, to Xed says I, 
 
 ' What's aw this fuss about ] 
 ' I's seer he's a reet lish country lad, 
 
 ' And ton's just a parfet lout : 
 ' But whea were liggin i Barney's crof^, 
 
 • And lakin like twea hares ! 
 
 ' And whea kiss'd Suke frae lug to lug 1 
 ' Wey, de'il tek them that cares 1' 
 
 Says Xed, says he, ' the thimmel gi'e me^O 
 
 ' I brong thee frae Branton fair, 
 ' And gi'e back the broach and true-love knot, 
 
 • And lock o' my awn reed hair ; 
 
 ' And pay me the tuppence I wan frae thee 
 
 ' Ae neet at pops and pairs ; 
 ' Then e'en tek on wi' whea thou leykes — 
 
 The de'il tek them that cares 1'
 
 i crMT^rnr.AXD hat i. ads. 
 
 The broach and thimtnel T flang at lii'^ feace, 
 
 The true-love knot i' tlie tire ; 
 Says I, ' ton's nobbet a hawflin bworn — 
 
 ' Fash me nae mair, I desire ; — 
 ' Here, tek thy tuppence, a reape to buy, 
 
 ' And gi'e thvsel nae mair airs ; 
 ' But hing as hee as Gilderoy — 
 
 ' The de'il tek them that cares I' 
 
 Julu 27, 1804. 
 
 tup: cocKKTi O' codbkck. 
 
 Tune — " Piitrick''i> day T th' inoniiiig/' 
 
 There v.a.s ill gusty Jemmy, the cocker o' 
 
 Codbeck.Sl 
 
 HefollowM i)lin Looth^tMassycarstweeorthree; 
 
 She laid in o' tv.ins, and was e'en broken-hearted. 
 
 For Jeininvhadlefther — and, neist, whatdid he. 
 
 But ran owre to Ile'^ktt, and wedd' d anudder; 
 
 Suin p^-er Greacy Leetliet was laid in her grave ; 
 The last words she spak were, ' O God, for^i^e 
 
 Jeromy ! 
 ' 1 may rue the day w hen he stuil my heart frae me ! 
 ' Tho' I's gawn to leave you, my innocents save ! 
 Jier twea b'airns she kiss'd, 
 And then sunk into rest. 
 O but sec like fellows siid suffer ! 
 I ne'erc^nforget when the corpse cross'd the lonnin, 
 Aniauir anld and voiinL'' there was nit a drv e'e ;
 
 CUMnFRLAND BAM.ADS. 89 
 
 Aw \vhop\l she was happy^ — but, O man! her 
 fadder 
 \\ hen they cover'd the coffin, we thought he 
 wad dee ! 
 lie cried, ' Ive 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 nevbor luiksnear him, 
 The bairns they aw fear him ; 
 And may sec like fellows still suffer ! 
 
 July 28, 1804. 
 
 CAN NY CUMMERLAN. 
 
 TuNi — " TJie Jiumours of gieii." 
 
 'Twasae neet last week, wid our warkefter supper, 
 
 We went owre the geate cousin Isbel to see ; 
 There were Sibbyfrae Curthet, and lal BettyByers, 
 
 Deef Debby, forby Bella Bunton and me ; 
 We'd scarce begun spinnin, when Sib a sang lilted. 
 
 She'd brong herfrae Carel by their sarvent man; 
 'Twas aw about Cummerlan fwok and feyne 
 pleaces. 
 
 And, if 1 can think on't, ve's hear how it ran.
 
 90 
 
 CCMDERLAXD BALLADS. 
 
 Yer buik-larn'd wise gentry, that's eeen monie 
 counties, 
 ■May preach and palaver, and brag as they will 
 O' mountains, lakes, valleys, woods, watters, 
 and meadows. 
 But canny auld Cummerlan caps them aw still:52 
 It's true we've nae palaces sheynin amang us, 
 Xor marble tall towers to catch the weak eye ; 
 But we've monie feyne castles, where fit our 
 brave fadders, 
 When Cummerlan cud onie county defy. 
 
 Furst Gravstock we'll nwotish, the seat o' girt 
 Norfolk, 
 
 A neame still to freemen and Englishmen dear ; 
 Ye Cummerlan fwok, may your sons and your 
 gransons 
 
 Sec rare honest statesmen for iver revere ; 
 Corruption's a sink that '11 puzzen the country, 
 
 And lead us to slav'ry, to me it seems plain ; 
 But he that has courage to stem the black torrent. 
 
 True Britons sud pray for, agean and agean. 
 
 "Whea that lies clirab'd Skiddaw, hes seen sec a 
 prospec, 
 ^Vhe^e fells frown owre fells, and in majesty vie? 
 AVhea that hes seen Keswick, can count hawf its 
 beauties, 
 May e'en try to count hawf the stars i' the 
 sky :
 
 CUMRERLAND BALLADS. 91 
 
 There 'd Ullswater, Bassenthwaite, Westwater, 
 Derwent, 
 That thousands on thousands ha'e travelTd to 
 view ; 
 The langer they gaze, still the mair they may 
 wonder, 
 And aye, as they wonder, may fin summet new. 
 
 We've Corbv,53 for rocks, caves, and walks, sae 
 delightfu', 
 
 That Jklen a paradi^^e loudly proclaims; 
 O that sec like pleaces hed aye sec like awner^, 
 
 Then mud monie girt fwok be proud o' their 
 ncames ! 
 We've N'etherby tui, the grand pride o' the border. 
 
 And haws out o' number nae county can bang; 
 AVi' 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' taxes as weel as we're yable, 
 
 And pray like true Britons, the war hed 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.
 
 92 CVMBERLAXD BAI.I-ADS. 
 
 JEFF AND JOB. 
 TiXE — " Fye, gue rub Jier oivre ivT strae !" 
 
 JEFF. 
 
 Come, Job, lefs 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 1 kent thy curly pow — 
 Aye the furst at wark and spwortin, 
 
 Were JefF lleyne and Jwosep Howe. 
 
 Ay, Jeff! we've lang kent yen anudder ; 
 
 JMonie a time when chaps were crouse, 
 And meade a brulliment and bodder, 
 
 Jeff and Job ha'e cleard tlie house ; 
 Nin leyke thee cud fling the geavelicki^i 
 
 Nin leyke me lak'd at fit-baw ; 
 Wi' pennvsteans tou was a darter — • 
 
 1 at trippet bang'd tem aw. 
 
 JEFF. 
 
 Then, Job, I mind at your kurn-supper,55 
 When I furst saw Elcy Greame, 
 
 I cuddent eat — my heart it flutter'd — 
 Lang Tom Levtle watch'd us heame . 
 
 ^Ve were young, and beath i' fettle — 
 He wad feight — we e'en set tui ;
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 93 
 
 In the clarty seugh I sent him — 
 Elcy skiri'd — what cud she dui ? 
 
 JOB. 
 
 And, Jeff, when met at Cursmas cairdins,5G 
 
 Few durst lake wi' thee and me ; 
 When we'd hack'd the lads aw roun us. 
 
 Off to the lasses bed went we ; 
 The ass-buird sarrat as a teable. 
 
 Legs anunder t' claes were laid ; 
 Forby laughin, kissin, jwokin, 
 
 JMonie a harmless prank we play'd. 
 
 Now, Job, we pay for youthfu' follies — 
 
 Aw our happy days are geane ; 
 Tou's turn'd grousome, bare, and dozen'd, 
 
 I's just worn to skin and beane. 
 But maister's comin in a flurry — 
 
 Sarvents aye sud meyn'd their wark ; 
 I munoff to deetin havver — 
 
 Fares-te-weel till efter dark 1 
 
 October 12, 1804. 
 
 TIB AND HER MAISTER. 
 
 I's 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 :
 
 D4 CUMUERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 Furst, Tib, get me my best lin sark, 
 IMy ^vig, and new-greasVl shoon ; 
 My three-nuik'd hat, and mittens white — 
 I'll hev a young weyfe suin 157 
 A young weyfe for me, Tib, 
 A young w eyfe for me ; 
 She'll scart my back whene'er it yuks, 
 Sac married 1 mun be ! 
 
 ' Wey, maister ! you're hawf blin and deef- 
 
 ' The rain comes pouring down ; — 
 ' Your best lin sark w ants beath tiie laps, 
 
 ' Your three-nuik'd hat the crown ; 
 ' The rattens eat your clouted shoon ; 
 
 ' The yad's unshod and leame ; 
 ' You're bent wi"' yage leyke onie bow, 
 * Sae sit content at hearae. 
 
 * A young weyfe for ye, man ! 
 
 ' A young weyfe for ye ! 
 'They'll rank ye wi' the horned newt 
 ' Until the day ye dee I' 
 
 O, Tib, thou aye talks leyke a fuil ! 
 
 I's fuild, but nit sae auld ; 
 A young weyfe keeps yen warm i' bed, 
 
 When neets are lang and cauld : 
 I've brass far mair than 1 can count, 
 
 And sheep, and naigs, and kye ; 
 A house luiks howe widout a weyfe — 
 
 31y luck I'll e'en gae try.
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 95 
 
 A young weyfe for me, Tib, 
 
 A young weyfe for me ; 
 I yet can lift twee pecks o' wots, 
 
 Tho turnM o' eighty-three. 
 
 * Weel, maister, ye maun ha'e your way, 
 
 ' And sin ye'll wedded be, 
 ' Ts lish and young, and stout and Strang, 
 
 ' Sae what think ye o' me 1 
 ' I'll keep ye teydey, warm, and clean, 
 
 ' To wrang ye 1 wad scworn.' 
 Tib ! gi'es thy hand ! — a bargain bc't — 
 We'll of to kurk to-mworn I 
 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. 
 
 JWOIIXY AND MARY. 
 
 Tune — " Come under my plaidie." 
 
 Young Mary was canny and bonny as onie lass, 
 
 Jwohny was lusty and weel to be seen ; 
 Young Mary was aye the best dancer at murry 
 neets, 
 Jwohny had won monie a belt on the green : 
 Lang, lang they were sweethearts, and nwotish'd 
 by neybors ; 
 Th'^auld fwok they talk'd, and oft bragg'd o' 
 the twee,
 
 96 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 For Jwohny thought nin i' tli'warl like youns: ^lary, 
 Aad Mary thought Jwohny aw she wlsh'd to see. 
 
 A wee swope guid yell is a peer body's comfort, 58 
 But wo be to him that oft drinks till blin fou ! 
 Young Jwohny ae day off wi' big to the market, 
 xVnd drank wi' some neybors, he little thought 
 how. 
 His auld fadder watch'd till the black hour o' 
 midneet ; 
 "Widout his deer Jwohny, the naig gallop'd 
 heame : 
 They sought, and they fan him that rawornin i' 
 Kden, 
 Amang the green busses that nod o wre the stream. 
 
 AuldGibby he gowls, and aye talks of his Jwohny, 
 And sits by his greave, andoftmeksasadmeane; 
 Peer .Mary, the flow'r of aw flow'rs i' the parish, 
 Ne'er hods up her head, now her Jvvohny is 
 geane. 
 The dangerous yell-house kills monie brave 
 fellows.^a 
 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 market, aye think o' my sang ! 
 
 November 11, 1804.
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 97 
 
 THE CLAY DAUBIX. 
 
 Tune — "Andrew Carr." 
 
 We went owre to Deavie' Clay Uaubin,60 
 
 And faith a rare caper we had, 
 AVi' eatin, and diinkin, and dancin, 
 
 And rwoarin, and singin leyke mad ; 
 \Vi' crackin, andjwokin, and braggin, 
 
 And fratchin, and feightin and aw ; 
 Sec glorious fun and divarsion 
 \\ as ne'er seen in castle or haw. 
 Sing hey for a snug clay biggin, 
 
 And lasses that leyke a bit spwort ; 
 V,V friens and plenty to gi'e them, 
 
 We'll laugh at King Gworge and his cwort. 
 
 The waws were aw finish'd er darknin ; 
 
 Now, greypt-'S, shouls, and biirrows thrown by, 
 Auld Deavie spak up wid a hursle — 
 
 ' Od rabbit it ! lads, ye'U be dry ; 
 '.See, deame, if we've got a swope whusk}- — 61 
 
 * i's svvorry the rum bottle's duin — 
 * We'll starken our keytes, I'll uphod us — ■ 
 
 ' Come, Adam.s, rasp up a lal tune 1' 
 
 When Bill kittl'd up " Chips and Shavins,^' 
 Auld Philip poud out jMatty Meer, 
 
 Then nattl'd his heels like a youngen, 
 And caper'd about the clay fleer ; 
 
 He deeted his gob, and he buss'd her, 
 As lish as a lad o' sixteen ; 
 G
 
 98 CUMBERLAXD BALLADS. 
 
 Cries "WuU, ' Od dy ! fadder's i' fettle ! 
 ' His marrow 11 niver be seen I' 
 
 Keet sair did we miss Jemmy Coupland — 
 
 Bad crops, silly man, meade him feale ; 
 Last Sunday fwornuin, efter sarvice, 
 
 I' th' kurk-garth, the dark caw'd his seale.62 
 Peer Jemmy ! of aw his bit oddments 
 
 A shettle the bealies ha'e ta'en. 
 And now he's reet fain of a darrak, 
 
 for pan, dish, or spuin, he hes neane. 
 
 AVi' scons, leather -hungry,* and whusky, 
 
 Auld Agg-y cried, * r\leake way for me ! 
 * Ye men fwok, eat, drink and be muny, 
 
 * Whevle we i' the bower get tea.' 
 The whillvmer eat teugh and teasty. 
 
 Aw cramm'd fou o' grey pez and seeds 3 
 They row'd it up teane agean tudder — 
 
 jNae dainties the hungry man needs. 
 
 Isow in com the women fwok buncing — 
 Widout tern there's niver nee fun ; 
 
 "Wi' whusky aw weeted their wizzens, 
 But suin a sad hay-bay begun ; 
 
 Tor Jock, the young laird, was new wedded, 
 His auld sweetheart Jenny luik'd wae ; 
 
 •This is a ludicrous name given to a poor sort of cheese 
 made of skhiimed milk, aud made use of hy some of the 
 peasauts of Curaherlaud as apart of their meals. It is 
 also sometimes called Whillymer, and sometimes Rosley 
 
 ClK'jhire.
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 99 
 
 While some were aw litteiin and flyrin, 
 The lads rubb'd her down63 wi' pez stiae. 
 
 Rob Lowsoa tuik part wi' peer Jennv, 
 
 And brong sniffring Gwordie a cluif ; 
 I'' th' scuffle they learn 'd Lowson' mudder, 
 
 And fain they'd ha'e stripped into buft^: 
 Ts'eist Peter caw'd Gibby a rebel, 
 
 And aw rwoar'd out, that was wheyte wrang ; 
 Cried Deavie, ' Shek bans, and nae mair on'L — • 
 
 * I's sing ye a bit of a sang.' 
 
 He lilted " The King and the Tinker," 
 
 And WuUy strack up " Robin Hood ;" 
 Dick i\lingins tried " Hooly and Fairly," 
 
 And aiartha " The Babs o' the Wood :" 
 They push'd round a glass leyke 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. 
 
 THE FELLOWS ROUND TORKIN.* 
 
 Tune — " The YorhsJiire Concert." 
 
 We're aw feyne fellows round Torkin j 
 
 We're aw guid fellows weel met ; 
 AVe're aw wet fellows round Torkin, 
 
 Sae faikins we mun hev a sweat : 
 Let's drink to to the lasses about us, 
 
 'Till day's braid glare bids us start ; 
 *A wood covered hill, near Croflon Hall, in Cuaiberlaod.
 
 100 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 We'll 5up till the sailer be empty — 
 Corae, Dicky, lad, boddom the quart. 
 
 I'll gi'e ye, says Dick, durty Dinah, 
 
 That's aye big wi' bairn fwok suppose ; 
 She sticks out her lip leyke a pentes. 
 
 To kep what may drop frae her nvvose : 
 Levke a hav-stack she hoists up ae shou'der, 
 
 And scarts, for she's nit varra soun : 
 \Vi' legs thick as mill-posts, and greasy. 
 
 The deevil cud nit ding her down 1 
 
 We're aw odd fellows round torkin ; 
 
 We'ie 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 emptj- — 
 
 Come, INiatthew, lad, boddom the quart. 
 
 I'll gi'e ye, saj^s ]Matt, midden ^Target, 
 
 That squints wi' the left-handed e'e ; 
 When at other fellows she's gleyniin, 
 
 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-buiid ; 
 
 'Mang sluts she's aye counted the chief! 
 
 We're aw wise fellows round Toikm ; 
 We're aw neyce fellows weel met ;
 
 Cl'MUERLAND BALLADS. 101 
 
 We're aw sad fellows round Torkin, 
 
 Sae faikins we mun hev a sweat • 
 Let's drink to the lasses about us, 
 
 'Till days braid glare bids us part ; 
 We'll sup till the sailer be empty — 
 
 Come, Gwordy, lad, boddom the quart. 
 
 I'll gi'e ye, says Gworge, geapin Grizzy, 
 
 Wi' girt feet and marrowless legs ; 
 Tier reed neb wad set fire to brurastone ; 
 
 Her een are as big as duck eggs : 
 Slie's shep'd leyke a sweyne i' the middle. 
 
 Her skin's freckl'd aw leyke 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 ; 
 
 AVe'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 al)0ut us, 
 
 'Till days 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 Wull, winkin Winnv, 
 That measures exact three feet eight, 
 
 But wi' roun-shou'der'd Ruth, or tall Tibby, 
 She'll scart, and she'll girn, and she'll feight : 
 
 She's cruik'd as an S — wid a hip out. 
 Her feet fiat and braid, as big fluiks ;
 
 102 CCMnERLAXD BALLADS. 
 
 Ilor ft^ace is as lang as a fid<ll»^. 
 
 And aw spatter'd owre wi* reed plouks ! 
 
 ^V( Ve 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'-; drink to the lasses about us, 
 
 'Till days braid glare bids us part ; 
 "We'll sup till the sailer be empty — 
 
 Come, Mwosey, lad, boddom the quart. 
 
 I'll ei'e ye, says Mwose, mantin IMattv, 
 
 That lisps through her black rotten teeth 
 Vou can't catch five word> in ten minutes : 
 
 If 20wlin, she'd flay yen to dieth : 
 Her feace byke auld Nick's nutmeg grater, 
 
 And yallow neck bitten wi' fleas ; 
 She's troubl'd wi' win ay at raeale teymcs. 
 
 And belshes to give hersel ease. 
 
 We're aw cute fellows round Torkin ; 
 
 We're aw sharp fellows woel met ; 
 We're aw rare fellows round Torkin, 
 
 Sae faikins we mun hev a sweat : 
 Let's drink to the lasses about us, 
 
 'Till d,\y's braid glare bid-< us part : 
 \Ve'll sup 'till the sailer be empty — 
 
 Come, Nathan, lad, boddom the quart. 
 
 I'll gi'e ye, saya Xatt, noisy Xanny, 
 That chows shag 'bacco for fun ;
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLACS. 103 
 
 Slie cocks her belly when walkin, 
 
 And aye luiks down to the grun : 
 She talks beath sleepin and walkin, 
 
 And crowks leyke a tsad when she speaks ; 
 On her nwose en the hair grows leyke stibble, 
 
 And gravey drops run owre her cheeks ! 
 
 We're aw tengh fellows round Torkin ; 
 
 We're aw rash fellows weel met ; 
 We're aw queer fellows round Torkin, 
 
 Sae faikins we mun hev a sweat : 
 Let's drink to the lang, leame, and lazy, 
 
 Deef, dum, black, bleer-e'ed, and blin, 
 jMay they suin get weel wedJet, and beddet, 
 
 If lads thev can onie where fin ! 
 
 THE DAWSTOX PLAYER-FWOK. 
 Tune — " Derry Down." 
 
 Come, stur the fire, Shadrich ! and hearken to me ; 
 I went up to Dawston their play-fwok to ^e?, 
 And paid my cruik'd tizzv, and gat a front seat ; 
 Thrang as three in a bed, they were wedg'd in 
 that neet. 
 
 Derry Down, &c. 
 
 Furst the ban on their hoyboys and peypes did 
 
 sae cruin, 
 Tho' they blew oft and sair, it aye ?eem'd the 
 
 seame tune :
 
 104 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 Aw was famish confusion — but when they began, 
 Lack-a-day! the fair penitent pruiv'd but a man! 
 Derry Down, &ic. 
 
 When they chink'd a lal bell, there was yen 
 
 sunimet spak, 
 liut he hung down his head, and he held up his 
 
 lack ; 
 The picture caw'd Garrick abuin the stage stood, 
 1 thought it yence laugh 'd, and i' faith weel it mud! 
 Derry Down, 6cc. 
 
 Like a hawf white-wash'd sweep, yen Orashi* 
 
 bunr'd in, 
 And he tweyn'd leyke an edder, and cockM up 
 
 his chin ; 
 In his yallow plush breeks, and lang black rusty 
 
 sword, 
 AVid his square gob weyde open — thought I, 
 
 what a Lword ! 
 
 Derry Down, &c. 
 
 He was drucken, (that's sarten ;) he cuden't 
 
 get on ; 
 ' Loavins I' cried an auld woman ; ' what, that's 
 
 Uutson' Jwohn 1' 
 ' ^less, but he's a darter I' ' a topper I' says I, 
 AVa< Le but in a nieedow, he'd freeten the kye. 
 Derry Down, 6tc 
 
 • The mauner iu whkh they prouounced Uie diiTcreDt 
 uaiucs.
 
 CUMBERLAND BALI-ADS. 105 
 
 In bonnie flower'd weastcwoat, andfull-uottom'd 
 
 wi'jT, 
 Auld Siholto he squeek'd leyke a stuck guinea pig ; 
 Then his uowter he fiatch'd, and her sweetheart 
 
 forby, 
 O man ! it was movin, and meade the bairns cry! 
 Uerry Down, 6cc. 
 
 Yen whisper'd me softly — ' that's Clofrger Jwohn 
 
 15ell.' 
 Says I, * leyke eneugh, of that man I've heard tell.* 
 ]S ow a tweesome talk'd loud, but nit varra discreet, 
 Fo. t'liey promised twea whoresf afore nuin they 
 
 wad meet. 
 
 Deny Down, &:c. 
 
 Frae tae Ht to tudder, Lot^ ari lie iiopp'd, 
 
 Aw leyke clock-wark. ;. uis words tui how neycely 
 
 he chopped ! 
 Peer body ! he waddent lig whiet, when de-ad, 
 Sae they e'en lugg'd him out by the heels and 
 
 the head. 
 
 Derry Down, &c. 
 
 There was j'en wid a weast thick as onie barrel 
 
 kurn. 
 He poud up his pettikits, then gev agurn; 
 And he luik\l as to say, 'Xow what think ye o'me?' 
 A lal lass spak the truth — it was shocken to see ! 
 Derry Down, 6:c, 
 
 + Two hours.
 
 106 CrMBEIlLAND BALLADS. 
 
 Xelst a cliver lish chap, wid his feyne reed leed 
 
 cheeks, 
 Blew his nwose wi' his fingers, and hotch'd up 
 
 his breeks ; 
 Then he tuik a fresh chow, and the auld'n threw 
 
 out. 
 And said, ' Dui])e whiet — what's aw this about?' 
 Derry Down, &c. 
 
 The schuilmaister, gager, and twee or three mair, 
 J!^l seen Mister Punch play his pranks at a fair; 
 Kfter far-larned thrrepin, at last, at the Bell, 
 'f was agreed, nit ev'n Punch cud thur heroes 
 excel. 
 
 Derry Down, &c. 
 
 Sec struttin and whevnin may please dwoatin fails. 
 Or rough-headed callans, just sent off to schuils: 
 But hedst tou e'er dreamt o' sec actin, dear 
 
 Rowe! 
 For sarten, thou ne'er wad ha'e written at aw. 
 Derry Down, (Sec. 
 
 Ye wise men o'Dawston, stick clwose to your wark. 
 Sit at heame wi' your weyves and your bairns 
 
 efter dark ; 
 To be caw\l kin^? and heroes is pleasin indeed, — 
 But before you turn player-fwok, furst laru to 
 
 read I 
 
 Derrv Down, ^:c.
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 107 
 
 OUR JWOIINY. 
 
 TrxE — " Lillihulero.^'' 
 
 Our .Twolmy's just turn'd till a parfet atomy, 
 
 ]Sowther work?, eats, drinks, or sleeps ashesiid; 
 He see^'hs in anuik,and fins fau't wid his poddish, 
 
 And luiks leyke a deyl'd body, spoil'd for aw gud. 
 He reaves in his sleep, and reads bulks o' luive 
 letters, 
 
 Ae turn efter dark, nae, he'll nit dui at aw ! 
 But ae neet, last week, I detarmin'd to watch him, 
 
 And suin, wi' his sweetheart our Jwohnny I saw. 
 
 I cowrM my ways down, ahint our young eshes, 
 
 And by went the tweesome, —he seem'd nit the 
 seame ; 
 They laugh'd, kiss'd and cutter'd — nought bad 
 past atween them ; 
 
 I gat what 1 wanted, and sae crap off heame ; 
 Our landlword' lass, Letty, his heart hes in keepin. 
 
 To be seer she's asarvent,butweel to be seen; 
 She's lish, young and bonnie, and honest asonie, 
 
 In hard workin poverty I see nought that's mean I 
 
 The fadder o' Jwohnny was my fellow-sarvent ; 
 
 God rust him ! his marrow I's ne'er to see mair ! 
 Auld Matthew hed gear, andfollow'd me weekly, 
 
 And cut me a lock of his gray grizzled hair. 
 Hed 1 wedded Matthew, I'd now been a leady, 
 
 But fourscwore and twonty can niver agree :
 
 108 
 
 CUMBERLAND BAI.I.ADS. 
 
 Our Jwohnny may e'en try his luck, and git : 
 wedded, 
 And they sal ha'e baith stock and crop when I dee. 
 
 KING ROGER. 
 
 Tlne, — "Hallow Fair." 
 
 'Twas but tudder neet, efter darknln. 
 We* sat owre a bleezin turf fire : 
 
 Our deame she was slurrin a cow-drink, 
 Our Hetty milkM kve in the bvre : 
 
 ' Ay, fadder I' cried out our lal Roger, 
 
 * I wish I wer nohbet a king !' 
 
 ' Wev, what w;id to dmi (says T,) Roger, 
 
 * Suppwose lou cud tek thy full swing V 
 
 • Fur-t, yoii sud be Iword judje, and bishop 
 
 ' My mudder sud hev a gold crutch ; 
 ' I'd build fo; the peer fvvok feyne houses, 
 
 ' And gi'e tliem — aye, ever sae much I 
 ' Our lietty sud wed Charley Miggins, 
 
 ' And wear her stamp'd gown ev'ry day ; 
 ' Sec dancin we'd hev in the cock-loft, 
 
 ' Bill Adams the fiddle sud play. 
 
 ' A posset I'd hev to my breakfa<;t, 
 
 * And sup wid a breet siller spuin ; 
 ' For dinner I'd hev a fat crowdy, 
 
 ' And strancr tea at mid efternuin :
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 109 
 
 • Vd wear neyce cottinet stockins, 
 
 ' And new gambaleery clean slices, 
 ' Wi' jimp lively black t'ustin briches, 
 ' And ev'ry feyne thing 1 cud choose. 
 
 * I'd hev monie thousands o' shippen, 
 
 ' To sad the wevde vvarl aw aljout ; 
 ' I'd say to my soldiers, gang owre seas, 
 
 ' And kill the French dogs, out and out ! 
 ' On our lang-tail'd naig I'd be mounted, 
 
 ' -Mv footmen in silver and green ; 
 
 • And when I'd seen aw foreign countries, 
 
 ' I'd mek Aggy Glaister my queen. 
 
 ' Ourmeedow sud be a girt worchet, 
 
 ' And grow nought at aw but big plums ; 
 
 ' A schuil-house we'd build — As for maister, 
 ' \\ e'd e'en hing him up by the thums. 
 
 * Jo>s Feddon sud be my head huntsman, 
 
 ' We'd keep seeben couple o' dogs, 
 ' And kill aw the hares i' the kingdom ; 
 ' i\iy mudder sud wear weel-greas'd clogs. 
 
 ' Then Cursmas sud last, ay for iver ! 
 
 ' And Sundays we'd ha'e tweyce a-week ; 
 ' The muin sud show leet aw the winter ; 
 
 * Our cat and our cwoley sud speak : 
 ' The peer fwok sud leeve widout workin, 
 
 ' And feed on plum-puddin and beef; 
 ' Then aw wad be happy, for sarten, 
 
 ' There nowther cud be rwogne or thief.*
 
 110 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 >>'ow thus ran on leytle king Roger, 
 
 But suin aw his happiness fled ; 
 A spark frae the fire brunt his kuockle, 
 
 And off he crap v. hingin to bed : 
 Thus fares it wi' beath young and auld fwok, 
 
 Frae king to the beggar we see ; 
 Just cross us i' th' midst o' our greatness. 
 
 And peer wretched creatures are we ! 
 
 KITT CRAFFET. 
 
 TcNE — " Come under my plaidie.'^ 
 
 Isaac Crosset, o' Chawk,* a feyne heed-sten hes 
 cutten, 
 
 And just setten't up owre anentthe kurk en ; 
 A chubby-feac'd angel o' top on't they've putt^n. 
 
 And varses, as gud as e'er com frae a pen : 
 It's for auld Kit Craffet, our wordy wise neybor, 
 
 God rust him ! a better man ne'er wore a head ; 
 He's nit left his fellow thro' aw the heale county. 
 
 And monie peer fwok are in want, now he's dead. 
 
 I mind when at schuil, a reet top scholar was he. 
 Of lakin or ram pin nae nwotion hed he, 
 
 But nar the auldthworn he wad-^it and keep m wosin. 
 And caw'd it a sin just to kill a peer flee : 
 
 A penny he niver let rust in his pocket, 
 i3ut gev't to the furst beggar body he met ; 
 
 • Shawk.
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. Ill 
 
 Then at kurk he cud follow the priest thro' the 
 sarvice, 
 And as for a trible he niver was bet. 
 
 Tho' he wan seeben belts lang afwore he was 
 twonty, 
 And in Scealeby nieedow oft tuik off the baw, 
 Yet he kent aw the beyble, algebra, josephus, 
 And capped the priest, maister, exciseman 
 and aw. 
 He cud talk about battles, balloons, burning 
 mountains. 
 And wars, till baith young and auld trimmel'd 
 for fear, 
 Then he'd tell how they us'd the " peer West Inde 
 negers," 
 And stamp wid his fit, aye, and drop monie a tear. 
 
 When he red about parliraents, pleaces, and 
 changes. 
 
 He flang by the paper, and cried, 'Silly stuff! 
 'The Outs wad be in, and the Ins rob their country, 
 
 •They're nit aw together worth ae pinch o' snuff!' 
 His creed was — Be statesmen but just, Britons 
 loyal. 
 
 And lang as our shippen reyde maisters at sea. 
 We'll laugh at the puffin o' vain Bonnyparty, 
 
 As suin may he conquer the deevil as we. 
 
 Then whenonie neybor was fash 'd by theturnies. 
 Oh ! it meade him happy if he cud be bail !
 
 112 CUMDERLAND EALI.AD3. 
 
 Twea-thurds of his income he gev away yearly, 
 And actually tuik peer Tom Linton frae jail. 
 He \vasyence cross'd in luive by a gud-for-nought 
 hussy, 
 But if onie lass by her sweetheart was wrang'd, 
 He wad give her gud counsel, and lecture the 
 fellow, 
 And oft did he wish aw sec skeybels were hang'd. 
 
 He cud mek pills and plaisters as weel as our doctor, 
 
 And cure cholic, aga, and jaunice forby ; 
 As for grease, or the glanders, reed waiter, or fellen, 
 
 x\in o' them was leyke him, amang naigs orkye : 
 ^Vhat, he talk'd to the bishop about agriculture. 
 
 And yence went to Plymouth to see the grand 
 fleet; 
 As for the brave sailors trail'd ofFby the press-gangs, 
 
 • Od die them !' he said, ' that can niver be reet !' 
 
 He ne'er was a drinker, a swearer, a feighter, 
 
 A cocker, a gamier, a fop, or a fuil ; 
 But left this sad \\ arl just at three scwore and 
 seeben, 
 I' the clay house his granfader built wi' the 
 schuil. 
 Oh ! monie asauttear will be shed ev'ry Sunday, 
 In reading the varses they've stuck on his steanej 
 'Till watters run up bank, and trees they grow 
 down bank, 
 VsQ niver can luikon his marrow agean ! 
 
 January 2, 1807.
 
 Cl'MCERLAND BALLADS. 113 
 
 ELIZABETH' BURTII-DAY. 
 
 Tune—" LiUihuleror 
 
 JENNY. 
 
 *'Av, Wulliam ! nelst Monday's Elizabeth' burtk 
 ' day ! 
 She is a neyce lass, tho'she werenin o'mine. 
 "We mun ax the Miss Dowsons, and auld Brodie' 
 voung fvvok : 
 I wish I'd seav'd a swope geuseberry wine. 
 She'll be sebenteen ; what, she's got thro' her 
 larnin ; 
 She dances as I did, when furst I kent thee. 
 As for Tom, her cruik'd billy, he stumps leyke a 
 cwoach-horse , 
 ^Ve'll ne'er mek a man on him, aw we can dee." 
 
 WULLIAM. 
 
 " Hut, Jenny ! hod tongue o' thee ! praise nac 
 sec varment, 
 She won't men' a sark, but reads novels, proud 
 brat ! 
 She dance ! What she turns in her taes, thou 
 peer gonny. 
 Caw her Bet, 'twas the neame her auld granny 
 ay gat. 
 No, Tommy for my money ! he reads his beyble, 
 
 And hes sec a lovinly squint wid his e'en ; 
 He sheps as leyke me, as ae been's leyke anudder ; 
 She snurls up her neb, just a shem to be seen! " 
 H
 
 114 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 " Shaf, WuUy 1 that's fashion — tou kens nout 
 
 about it ; 
 She's streyt as a resh, and as reed as a rwose. 
 
 She's sharp as a needle, and luiks leyke a leady ; 
 Thou talks, man — a lass cannot meake her awn 
 
 nwose I 
 She's dilicate meade, and nit fit for the country ; 
 For Tom, he's knock-knee'd, wi' twea girt ass- 
 buird feet ; 
 God help them he sheps leyke ! they've little to 
 brag on ; 
 Tho' ours, I've oft thought, he was nit varra 
 reet." 
 
 WULLIAM. 
 
 " O, Jen ! thou's run mad wi' thy gossips and 
 trumpery : — 
 
 Our lal bit o' Ian we maun sell, I declare ; 
 I yence thought thee an angel, — thou's turn'd 
 just a deevil. 
 
 Has fash'd me reet lang, and oft vexes me sair : 
 This fashion and feasting brings monie to rum, 
 
 A duir o' my house they shall nit come within ; 
 As for Bet, if she dunnet gang off till a sarvice. 
 
 When I's dead andgeanesheshallnithevapin." 
 
 Stop, WuU ! whee was'tbrong thee that fortune? 
 
 peer gomas ! 
 Just thurteen gud yacres as lig to the sun ;
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 115 
 
 When I tuik up wi' thee, I'd lost peer G wordy 
 Glossip, 
 I've rue'd sin that hour tothe kurk when we run : 
 Were thou cauld and coffin'd, I'd suin get a better; 
 
 Sae creep off to bed, nit a word let us hear ! 
 They shall come, if God spare us, far mair than 
 I mention'd — 
 Elizabeth' burth-day but comes yence a-year I 
 
 January 2, 1807. 
 
 BORROWDALE JWOHXNY. 
 Tune — " I am a young fellow." 
 
 I's Borrowdale Jwohnny just cumt up to Lunnon, 
 
 Nay, girn nit at me, for fear I laugh at you ; 
 I've seen kneaves donn'd i' silks, and guid men 
 gang in tatters, 
 
 The truth we sud tell.andgi'eauld Nick his due. 
 Nan Watt pruiv'd wi' bairn — what, they caw'd 
 me the f adder ; 
 
 Thinks I, shekum filthy ! be off in a treyce ! 
 Nine Carel bank nwotes mudder slipt i' my pocket, 
 
 And ladder neist ga'e me reet holesome adveyce. 
 
 Says he, 'keep frae t' lasses ! and ne'er luik ahint 
 thee ;' 
 We're -deep as the best o' them, fadder, says I,
 
 116 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 They pack'd up ae sark, Sunday weastcwoat, 
 twee neckcloths, 
 Wot bannock, cauld dumplin, and top stannin 
 pie : 
 I mounted black filly, bad God bless th' auld fwok. 
 Cries fadder, ' Tou's lara'd, Jvvohn, and hes 
 nought to fear ; 
 Caw and see cousin Jacep ! he's got aw the money ; 
 He'll git thee sum guverment pleace, to be seer! 
 
 I stopp'd on the fell, tuik a langluik at Sklddaw, 
 
 And neist at the schuil-house amang the esh 
 trees ; 
 Lastthing, sawthesmuikrisingupfrae ourchimlej'', 
 
 And fun aw quite queer, wid a heart ill at ease : 
 But summet within me, cried, Pou up thy spirits! 
 
 There's luck says auld Lizzy, in feacin the sun ; 
 Ton's young, lish, and cliver, may wed a feyne 
 ieady, 
 
 And come heame a Xabob — aye, sure as a gun! 
 
 Knowing manners, what, I doff'd my hat to aw 
 strangers, 
 Wid a spur on my heel, a yek siplln in ban. 
 It tuik me nine days and six hours comin up-bank. 
 At the IVhorns — aye, 'twas Hi^hget, a chap 
 bad me stan : 
 Says he, ' How's all friends in the North, honest 
 Johnny? 
 Odswunters I I says, what, ye divvent ken me I
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 117 
 
 I paid twee wheyte shillins, and fain was to see 
 him, 
 Kit thinkin on't rwoadonie 'quaintance to see. 
 
 Neist thinof, what big kurks, gilded cwoaches, hee 
 houses. 
 And fwok runnin thro' other, leyke Carel Fair ; 
 1 ax'd a smart chap where to tin cousin Jacep, 
 Says he, ' Clown, go look 1' Friend, says 1, tell 
 me where 2 
 Fadd.;r' letter to Jacep hed got nae suhscription, 
 
 Sae, when I was glowrin and siz'lin about, 
 A wheyte-feac'd young lass, aw dess'd out leyke 
 a leady, 
 Cried, " Pray, Sir, step in ! " but I wis!i I'd 
 kept out. 
 
 She pou'd atabell, leyke our kurk-bell itsounded, 
 
 In com sarvent lass, and she worder'd some 
 weyne ; 
 Sciys I, Ps nit dry, sae, pray, Madam, excuse me ; 
 
 A ay, what she insisted I sud stop and deyne. 
 She mead:- varra free — 'twas a shem and a bvzen ! 
 
 I thov/t her in luive wi' my parson, for sure ; 
 And prom.is'd to caw agean : — as for black filly, 
 
 (Wad onie believ't) she was stown frae the duir! 
 
 Od dang't ! war than that — when I grcap'd my 
 breek pocket, 
 I fan fadder' watch, and the nwotes were aw
 
 118 CUMEERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 It was neet, and I luik'd lang and salr for kent 
 feaces, 
 But Borrowdale fwok I cud niver see neane. 
 I slept on the flag>, just aliint the kurk-corner, 
 A chap wid a girt stick and lantern com by, 
 Pie caw'd me peace-breaker — says 1, thou's a 
 lear — 
 In a pleace leyke a sailer they fworc'd me to lie. 
 
 Xae caff bed or blankets for silly pilgarlic ; 
 De'il a wink cud 1 sleep, nay, nor yet see a 
 steyme ; 
 Neist day 1 was ta'en to the "Xarration Offish, 
 
 \V hen a man in a wig said, I'd duinasadcreyme. 
 Then ane ax'd my neame, and he pat on his 
 speckots, 
 Says I, Jvvohnny Cruckdeyke — I's Borrowdale 
 bworn ; 
 "Whea think ye it piuiv'd but my awn cousin 
 Jacep, 
 He seav'd me frae t' gallows, aye that varra 
 mworn. 
 
 He spak to my Lword, some hard words, quite 
 outlandish. 
 Then caw'd for his Gwoach, and away we mid 
 heame ; 
 He ax'd varra kind after fadder and muddcr, 
 I said they were bravely, and neist saw hi* 
 deame ;
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 119 
 
 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 uphod ye, v/e's 'gree. 
 
 January 4, 1807. 
 
 LANG SEYNE. 
 
 Tune — " Tak your auld cloak ahaut j/e." 
 
 The last new shun our Betty gat, 
 
 They pinch her feet, the de'il rnay care '. 
 What, she mud ha'e themleady leyke, 
 
 Tho' she hes cwcrns for evermair : 
 Nae black gairn st.ockins will she wear, 
 
 They mun be wheyte, and cotton feyne I 
 This meks me think o' other teymes. 
 
 The happy days o' auld lang seyne ! 
 
 Ourdowter, tui, a palace* bought, 
 
 A guid reed clwoak she cannot wear ; 
 And stays, she says, spoils leady's sheps — 
 
 Oh 1 it wad mek a parson swear. 
 Nit ae hans turn o' wark she'll dui. 
 
 She'll novvther milk or sarrat sweyne — 
 The country's puzzen'd round wi' preyde. 
 
 For lasses woik'd reet hard lang seyne. 
 
 We've three guid room? in our clay house, 
 Just big eneugh for sec as we ; 
 
 * Pelisse.
 
 120 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 They'd hev a parlour built v.-i' bricks, 
 1 mud submit — what cud I dee 1 
 
 The sattle nei-.t wa> thrown aseydo, 
 It mee^ht ha'e ^arra'd me and mine ; 
 
 My mudder thought it mensM a house — 
 Jiut we think shem o' auld lang seyne ! 
 
 We us'd to ga' to bed at dark. 
 
 And ruse a^ean at four or five ; 
 The mworn's the only teynxe for wark, 
 
 If fwok are hiithy, and wad thrive : 
 Kow we get up, — nay, God kens when ! 
 
 And nuin's owre suin for u? to deyne ; 
 I's hungry or the pot's hawf boil'd, 
 
 And wish for teymes leyke auld lang seyne. 
 
 Deuce tek the fuil-inventtd tea ! 
 
 For tweyce a-day we that mun hev : 
 Then taxes get sae miOustrous hee, 
 
 The do'il a plack yen now can seave ! 
 There's been nae luck throughout the Ian, 
 
 Sin fwok mud leyke their betters sheyne ; 
 French fasiiions m,ek us parfet fails ; 
 
 We're caii and san to auld lang seyne ! 
 
 Jinmurtj 5, 1807. 
 
 THE AULD 13I:GGAR. 
 
 I met the auld man, wid his starv'd grey cur near 
 him. 
 The blast owre the mountain blew cauld i' the 
 vale ;
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 121 
 
 Nae heame to receive him, few strange fwok to 
 hear him, 
 Andthin werluspatch'ddufl-;,he mi^kleclid ail: 
 Atear dimm'd his e'e, his feace furrow'd bysonow, 
 Seem'd to say, he frae whope nit ae comfort cud 
 borrow, 
 And sad was the besr^'arman's teale. 
 
 ' Behold,' he cried, seeghing-, ' the spwort of 
 
 false fortune ! 
 
 * The peerwretched outcast, the beggar \'ou see, 
 
 'Yenceboastedo'" wealth,^ utthe warl is uncertain, 
 
 •And friens o' my youth smeyle nae lang> ron 
 
 me : 
 
 * I's the last o' the flock, my weyfe Ann for 
 
 lleaven b.-ft me, 
 ' Of my only lad, Tim, accurst war neisl bereft me ; 
 ' My yage's suppwort lang was he ! 
 
 I ' Y-i^nce in the proud city, I smeyl'd amang plenty, 
 ' Frae east and frae west, m.onie a vessel then 
 bore 
 'To me the rich cargo, to mo the feyne dair.ty, 
 ' And the peer hungry bodies stillshar'd of my 
 store ; 
 A storm sunk my shippen, by false fiiens sur- 
 rounded, 
 Tr^e laugh o' the girt fwok, this meade me 
 confounc^'d, 
 ' ilk prospec for iv^r was o'er !
 
 122 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 ' I creep owre the mountains, but meast in the 
 vallies, 
 
 ' And wi' my fond dog share a crust at the duir ; 
 'I shun the girt fwok, and ilk house leyke a palace, 
 
 ' For sweetest to me is the meyte frae the puir : 
 'At neet, when on strae wi' ray falthfu' dog lyin, 
 *1 thank him that meade me, for what I's enjoying ; 
 
 ' His promise I whope to secure." 
 
 THE BUCK O' KINGWATTER.* 
 
 Tune — " The Breckans of Brampton." 
 
 When I was single, I rid a feyne naig. 
 And was caw'd the Buck o' Kingwatter ; 
 
 Now the cwoat o' my back hes got but ae sleeve, 
 And my breeks are aw in a tatter. 
 
 Sing, Oh ! the lasses ! the lazy lasses ! 
 
 Keep frae the lasses o' Branton I 
 I ne'er wad ha'e married, that day I married. 
 
 But 1 was young, feulish, and wanton. 
 
 I courted a lass — an angel I thought — 
 She's turned out the picture of evil ; 
 
 She geapes, yen may count ev'ry tuith in her head, 
 And shout?, fit to frectenthe deevil. 
 
 Sing, Oh, the lasses, &c. 
 
 * The river Kin^, near Gilsland.
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 123 
 
 To-day slie slipt out, some 'bacco to buy. 
 
 And bade me mind rock the cradle ; 
 I cowp'd owre asleep, but suin she com in. 
 And brak aw my head wi' the ladle. 
 
 Sing, Oh ! the lasses. Sec. 
 I ne'er hed a heart to hannel a gun, 
 
 Or I'd run away, and leave her. 
 She pretends to win purns, but that's aw fun. 
 They say she's owre kind wi' the weaver. 
 
 Sing, Oh ! the lasses, 6cc. 
 I dinnerless gang ae hawf o' the week ; 
 
 If we get a bit meat on a Sunday, 
 She cuts me nae mair than wad physic a sneype ; 
 Then we've tatey and point ev'ry Monday. 
 Sing, Oh I the lasses, &c. 
 Tho'wearyo'leyfe, wi' thisgud-for-nought weyfe, 
 
 I wish 1 cud get sec anudder ; 
 And then I cud gi'e the deevil the teane, 
 Tor teakin away the tudder ! 
 Sing, Oh I the lasses ! the lazy lasses! 
 
 lie ware o' the lasses o' Branton ! 
 I ne'er wad ha'e married, that day I married, 
 But 1 was young, feulish, and wanton. 
 January 6, 1807. 
 
 MARGET O' THE MILL. 
 
 Tune — " Tom Starboard," 
 
 Her fadder's whope, her mudder's preyde, 
 Was black-ey'd Marget o' the Mill,
 
 124 CrMEFRLAND BALLADS. 
 
 And suTTimer dav, or winter neet, 
 
 \Va> happy, cheerfu', bu^y still ; 
 And llalph, hei fadder, oft declar'd, 
 
 His dailin forty piands shou'd have 
 The day a h-jshan luik her han, 
 
 And mair, if iaag he skeap'd the greave. 
 The lilly and the dcyke-rwose beath, 
 
 Were mix'd in i\larget'? bonny feace ; 
 Her form mud win the caulde^t heart, 
 
 And hei's was nature's modest greace ; — 
 Her luik drew monie a neybor laird, 
 
 Her een hiive's piercin arrows fir'd; 
 But nae rich laird cud gain the han 
 
 Of this fair flow'r, by aw admir'd. 
 Oh, luckless hour ! at town ae day. 
 
 Yen in a sowdger's d.e-s she saw ; 
 He stule her heart — and frae tiiat hour, 
 
 IMay MargPt date a leyfe of woe : — 
 For now she shuns aw roun the mill, 
 
 Nae lunger to her bo-;om dear ; 
 And faded is her bonny feaco, 
 
 And dim her e'e wi' monie a tear. 
 Peer INIarget ! yence a fadder's preyde. 
 
 Is now widout a fadder left ; 
 Deserted, aw day lang she moans, 
 
 Luive's victim, of ilk whope bereft ! 
 Ye lasses, aw seducers shun, 
 
 And think o' Marget o' the Mill ; 
 She, crazy, daunders wid her bairn, 
 
 A prey to luive and sorrow still.
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 125 
 
 MADAM JAXE. 
 Tune — " I u-'dl ha'e a vceyfe." 
 
 Monej' meks us bonny, 
 
 jNJoney meks us glad; 
 Be she auld or ugly. 
 
 Money brings a lad. 
 When I'd ne'er a penny, 
 
 Dell a lad hed I— 
 Poiatin ay at Jenny, 
 
 Laughin they flew by. 
 
 INIoney causes flatt'ry, 
 
 INloney meks us vain ; 
 Money changes aw things — 
 
 Now Fm Madam Jane. 
 Sen auld Robby left me 
 
 Houses, fields, nit few. 
 Lads thrang round i' clusters, 
 
 I'm a beauty now ! 
 
 Money meks us merry, 
 
 Money meks us bra ; 
 Money gets us sweethearts — 
 
 That's the best of a' ! 
 I ha'e fat and slender, 
 
 I ha'e shwort and taw ; 
 I ha'e rake and miser — 
 
 I despise them aw ! 
 
 Money they're aw seeking. 
 Money they's git neane ;
 
 126 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 Money sends them sneaking 
 
 Efter Mada7n Jane ! 
 There's ane puir and bashfu', 
 
 I ha'e i' my e'e ; 
 He's git han and siller. 
 
 Gin he fancies me. 
 
 Money meks us bonny, (See. 
 
 Januari^ 6, 1807. 
 
 YOUXG SUSY. 
 Tune — "Dainty Davie." 
 
 Young Susy is a bonny lass, 
 A canny lass, a teydey lass, 
 A mettled lass, a hearty lass, 
 
 As onie yen can see ; 
 A clean-heel'd lass, a weel-spok lass, 
 A buik-larn'd lass, a kurk-gawn lass, 
 I watena how it com to pass, 
 
 She's meade a fuil o' me. 
 
 I's tir'd o' workin, plowin, sowin, 
 Deeting, deykin, threshin, movvin ; 
 Seeghin, greanin, never knovvin 
 \Vhat I'sgawn to de. 
 I met her — aye, 'twas this day week ! 
 Od die ! thought I, I'll try to speak j 
 But tried in vain the teale to geek, 
 for sec a lass is she I
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 127 
 
 Her jet black hair hawf heycles her brow. 
 Her een just thirl yen thro' and thro' — 
 But, Oh ! her cheeks and churry mou 
 Are far ovvre sweet to see ! 
 I's tir'd o' workin, &c. 
 
 Oh, cud I put her in a sang ! 
 
 To hear her praise the heale day lang, 
 
 She mud consent to kurk to gang ; 
 
 There's puirer fwok than me ! 
 But I can novvther rhyme nor rave, 
 Luive meks yen sec a coward slave ; 
 I'd better far sleep i' my grave — 
 
 But, Oh ! thatmunnet be ! 
 
 I's tir'd o' workin, plowin, sowin, 
 Deetin, deykin, threshin, mowin,' 
 Seeghin, greanin, never knowin 
 What I's gawn to de. 
 
 January 6, 1807. 
 
 THE REEDBREEST. 
 
 Tvyz—" Hallow Fair." 
 
 Come into my cabin, reed Robin ! 
 
 Threyce welcome, lal warbler, to me ! 
 Now Skiddaw hes got his wheyte cap onj 
 
 Agean I'll gi'e shelter to thee.
 
 128 CCMEERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 Just hop thy ways intomv pantrv, 
 And feast on my peer humble fare ; 
 
 I never was fash'd wid a dainty, 
 
 Ijut meyne, man or burd sal ay share. 
 
 Now four jears are by-geane, reed Robin, 
 
 Sen furst thou com singin to me ; 
 But, O'l, how i's chang'd, little Robin, 
 
 Sen furst i bade welcome to thee ! 
 I then hed a boany bit lassie, 
 
 Away wid anuduer she's geane ; 
 ]\Iy fiiens wad oft caw at my cabin, 
 
 Aow dowie I seegh aw my leane. 
 
 Oh, where is thy sweetheart, reed Robin 1 
 
 Ga' bring her frae house-top or tree ; 
 I'll bid her be true to sweet Robin, 
 
 For false was a lassie to me. 
 You'll share ev'ry cruui i' my cabin. 
 
 We'll sing the cauld winter awayj 
 I wunnet deceive ye, peer burdies ! 
 
 Let mortals use me as they may. 
 
 November, 1800. 
 
 THREESCWORE AND XINETEEX 
 
 Tune by the Author. 
 
 Aye, Aye, I's feeble grown. 
 
 And feckless — weel i may ! 
 I's threescwore and nineteen. 
 
 Aye, just this varra day \
 
 CL'MBEHLAXD BALLADS. 129 
 
 . I ha'e nae teeth, my meat to chew, 
 
 But little sarras me ! 
 The best thing I eat or drink, 
 Is just a cup o' tea ! 
 
 Aye, aye, the bairns mak gam, ■ 
 
 And pleague me suin and late ; 
 Men fwok 1 leyke i' my heart, 
 
 But bairns and lasses hate ! 
 This gown o' meyne's lang i' the weast, 
 
 Aul-fdshion'd i' the sleeve; 
 It meks me luik leyke fourscvvore, 
 
 I varily believe ! 
 
 Aye, aye, what I's deef, 
 
 JMy hearings quite geane ; 
 I''s fash'd wi' that sad cough aw neet. 
 
 But little I complain. 
 I smuik a bit, and cough a bit. 
 
 And then I try to spin ; 
 And then I daddie to the duir. 
 
 And then I daddie in ! 
 
 Aye, aye, I wonder much. 
 
 How women can get men ; 
 I've tried for threescwore years and mair. 
 
 But never cud get yen. 
 De'il tek the cat — what is she at? 
 
 Lie quiet on the chair : 
 I tliowt It e'en was Daniel Strang, 
 
 Comia up the stair ! 
 I
 
 130 CVMBERLAVD BALLADS. 
 
 Aye, Aye, I've bed and box, 
 
 And kist, and clock, and wheel, 
 And tub, and rock, and stull, and pan, 
 
 And chair, and dish, and reel ; 
 And luiking-glass, and chammer-pot. 
 
 And bottles for smaw beer ; 
 Mouse-trap, sawt-box, kettle, and- 
 
 That's Danny sure I hear ! 
 
 Aye, aye, he's young eneugh. 
 
 But, oh ! a reet neyce man ; 
 And I wad ne'er be caul in bed, 
 
 Cud I but marry Dan. 
 Deuce tek that cough 1 that weary cough — • 
 
 It never let's me be ; 
 I's kilt wi' that and gravel beath — 
 
 Oh, Daniel, come to me ! 
 
 January 8, 1807. 
 
 SILLY ANDREW. 
 Tune — " Wandering Ifj/Zie." 
 
 how can I get a bit weyfe ? says lang Andrew 
 Shadric, come tell me, lad, what I mun dee 
 Tou kens I's just twenty, 
 Hae houses, lanp plenty, 
 A partner I want— - aj' — 
 But nin '11 ha't me !
 
 CVMBERLAND BALLADS. 131 
 
 'Twas fuist blue-e'ed Betty that meade my inouth 
 watter, 
 She darn'd my auld stockins, my crivet oud aw; 
 Last harvest, when sheerin, 
 Wi' jeybin and jeerin. 
 She fworc'd me to swearin — 
 Bett ne'er mair I saw ! 
 
 Neist reed-heeded Hannah to me seem\I an angel. 
 And com to our house monie a neet wid her wark; 
 1 yence ax'd to set her, 
 She said she kent better : 
 Whea thinks te can get herl 
 E'en daft Symie Clark ! 
 
 Then smaw-weasted Winny meade gowns for our 
 Jenny ; 
 Andrew, man, stick tull her ! mudder oft said; 
 She hes feyne sense, and money, 
 Young, lish, smart and bonny, 
 Is a match, aye for onie. — 
 But she's for Black Aed 1 
 
 rhen how can I get a bit weyfel tell me, Shadric! 
 Tou mun be reet Trappy, they're aw fond o' thee! 
 I've followed i\an, Tibbv, 
 Sail, Mall, Fan, and Sibby, 
 Ett, Luke, Doll, andDebby; 
 But nin '11 ha'e me !
 
 132 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 AULD ROBBY MILLER. 
 TeNE — " Gin J had a ivee House.'* 
 
 Oh, cud I but see the blythe days I ha'e seen, 
 "When I was a lish laughin lass o' sixteen ! 
 Then lads lap around, and said nin was leyke me, 
 Now they're aw fled away, and Ps turn'd thurty- 
 
 three. 
 A single leyfe's but a comfortless leyfe. 
 It sounds unco sweet to be caw'd a weyfe ; 
 To get a bit body Pve tried aw I can — 
 "Waes me for the lassie that can't get a man. 
 
 "When day-Ieet's aw geane, and I sit down to spin, 
 
 I wish some young fellow wad only step in ; 
 
 At the market I saunter, and dress at the fair, 
 
 But nae lad at peer Keaty a luik will e'er spare. 
 
 A single leyfe's but aweary dull leyfe, 
 
 It sounds unco sweet to be caw'd a weyfe ; 
 
 In vain a peer lassie may try ilka plan," 
 
 Caw herrich,and I'll ventureshe'llsuingetaman. 
 
 There's auld Robby jMiller, wi' his siller pow. 
 Bent double, and canna creep up the hill now ; 
 Tho* steane-deef and tuithless, and bleer-e'ed 
 
 and aw, 
 He hes gear, and Ps thinking to gi'e him a caw, 
 A single leyfe's a heart-breakin leyfe. 
 It sounds unco sv.eet to be caw'd a weyfe ; 
 I'll keame his lank locks, and dui what I can — At 
 Theie'smonie a young lassie wad tek an auld maalj \
 
 CUMBEHLAND BALLADS. 133 
 
 He lives aw his leane; but he's surely to bleame. 
 When a wanter leyke me may be had sae near 
 
 heame : 
 Wer we weddet to-morrow, he'd nit be langhere, 
 Then I'd buy a man to my mind wid his gear : 
 A single leyfe's a sorrowfu' leyfe, 
 It sounds unco sweet to be caw'd a weyfe ; 
 I'll off to auld Robby, — aye, that's the best plan, 
 Andcvvoaxhim, and wed him, the canny auld man. 
 
 NAXXY PEAL. 
 
 Eyes there are that never weep ; 
 
 Hearts there are that never feel ; 
 God keep them that can dui baith, 
 
 And sec was yence sweet Nanny Peal. 
 Tom Feddon was a sailor lad, 
 
 A better never sail'd saut sea ; 
 The dang'rous rocks reet weel he knew. 
 
 The captain's favourite was he. 
 
 When out, and cronies drank or sang. 
 
 Or danc'd the jig, or leetsome reel, 
 Peer Tom wad sit him on the yard, 
 
 And fondly think o' Nanny Peal. 
 For, Oh she was a hearty lass, 
 
 A sweeter feace nin e'er did see ; 
 And luive lurk'd in her twea breet een, 
 
 And innocence itiel uas she.
 
 134 CcMEERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 Oft, i' thekurk, the neybor lads 
 
 At her a bashfu' lulk wad steal ; 
 Oft, at the markets, stare and point, 
 
 And whisper — " See ! that's Nanny Peal." 
 But Tom was aw her heart's deleyte ; 
 
 And, efter voyaorestwee or three, 
 (In which he wad feyne pr^^sents bring,) 
 
 Bailh fondly whop'd they'd married be. 
 
 And now this teyde they quit the pwort ; 
 
 Tom wid a kiss his faith did seal ; 
 Thev crv'd, they seegh'd, whop'd suin to meet- 
 
 'Twas hard to part wi' Xanny Peal ! 
 The sea was cawm, the sky was clear, 
 
 The ship slie watch'd while eye cud see ; 
 ""The voyage is shwort !"' she tremblin suid, 
 
 •'God send him seafe and suin to me!" 
 
 Afwore her peer auld mudder's duir. 
 
 She sung, and thow t, and turn'd her wheel 
 But when that neet the storm com on, 
 
 Chang'd was the heart of Nanny Peal. 
 And sad was she the next lang day ; 
 
 The t'.iird day warse — still wars^j grew she ; 
 Alas ! the fourth day brought the news, 
 
 Baith ship and men were lost at sea I 
 
 She heard, ?he fainted on the fluir ; 
 
 Much did her peer auld madder feel ; 
 The neyborsrouu, baith auld and younj, 
 
 Dropt moniis a tear for Naunj i'cal.
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADf. 135 
 
 Sin that, she wanders aw day lang-. 
 
 And gazes weyldiy on the sea ; 
 She's spent, peer thing, to skin and beane, 
 
 And ragged, wretched now is she. 
 
 Oft reydin on the wheyte-topp'd waves, 
 
 She sees her Tom toweits her steal ; 
 And then she laughs, and caws aloud, 
 
 " O come, O come to ^annv Peal !" 
 God keep thee ! helpless, luckless lass ! 
 
 On earth thou niunnet happy be 3 
 But leyfe is wearin fast away — 
 
 Thou suin in Heav'n peer Tom wilt see. 
 
 AXDREW'S YOUNGEST DOWTER. 
 Tune by the Author. 
 
 Where Irthin* rows to Eden's streams, 
 
 Thro' meedows sweetly stealin, 
 Owrhung by crags, hawf hid by furs, 
 
 Th'Te stands a cwozey dwellin ; 
 And there's a lass wi' witchin feace, 
 
 Her luik gi'es pain or pleasure, 
 A rwose-bud hid frae pryin een, 
 
 The lads deleyte and treasure ; 
 Eor when 1 saw her aw her leane, 
 
 1 mair than mortal thought her. 
 And stuid amaz'd, and silent gaz'd 
 
 On Andrew's youngest dowter. 
 
 'A river in the neijjhbourhood of Brampton.
 
 136 CUMHERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 Her luik a captive meade my heart. 
 
 How matchless seem'd ilk feature ! 
 The sun, in aw his yearly course, 
 
 Shevnes on nae fairer creature ; 
 I watch'J her thro' the daisied hortmes. 
 
 And pray'd for her returnin ; 
 Then track VI her foot-marks through the wood, 
 
 My smitten heart aw burnin ; — 
 Luive led me on ; but when, at last. 
 
 In fancy meyne I thowt her, 
 I saw her awn dear happy lad 
 
 jNIeet Andrew's youngest dowter. 
 
 Sing sweet, ye wild birds i' the glens, 
 
 Where'er young Lizzy wanders ; 
 Ye streams of Irthin, please her ears 
 
 Aw day wi' soft meanders ; 
 And thou, the lad ay neist her heart. 
 
 Caress this bonny blossom — 
 Oh, never may the thworn o' care 
 
 Gi'e pain to sec a bosom ! 
 Had I been king o' this weyde warl, 
 
 And kingdoms cud ha'e bought her, 
 I'd freely parted wi' them aw, 
 
 for Arxdrew's youngest dowter ! 
 
 SOLDIER YEDDY. 
 
 Tune — " The icidoio can bake." 
 
 Peer Yeddv was brought up a fadderless bairn, 
 
 His jacket blue duffle, his stuckins cworse gaira ;
 
 CUMBERLAXD BALLADS. l?7 
 
 Kis mudder, sad greaceless 1 liv'd near T^iikiu 
 Tarn, 
 But ne'er did a turn for her Yeddy. 
 
 Vv'eel shep'd, and fair feac'd, wid abonny bine e'e 
 
 Plonest-hearted, ay merry, still teydey vvas lie ; 
 
 But nae larnin had gotten, nor kent ABC ; — 
 
 There's owre monie leyke silly Yeddy. 
 
 Suin tir'd o' the cwoal-pit, and drivin a car, 
 Won by feathers, cockades, and the fuil'i ies o' war, 
 lie wad see feyne fwok, and grand pleaces afar — 
 The bad warl was aw new to lal Yeddy. 
 
 How temptin the liquor, and bonny bank nwote ! 
 Plowteniptin the pouder, sash, gun, and reed cwoat! 
 Then the Frenchmen, die bin them 1 we'll kill 
 
 tlie w hole twote ! 
 
 These, these were his thoughts, honest Yeddy. 
 
 Awhile wi' hiscronies he'll srauik, laugh, andslng. 
 Tell of wonders, and brag of his country and king, 
 And swagger, and larn of nevv oaths a sad string — 
 1 hese little avail simple Yeddy. 
 
 For suiti he may sing to another-guess tune, 
 His billet a bad yen, his kelter aw duin ; 
 I Aiid faint at his post, by the pale winter rjuir., 
 ' A' ae comfort awaits luckless Yeddy. 
 
 I When Time steals his colour, aiiU meks his pow 
 Mi:y lie tell merry stones, nor yence rue l.ae Jay,
 
 138 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 When he wandei'd, peer lad I 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 abrave soldier's pocket of brass ne'er be scant; 
 2s it the brags o' proud Frenchmen auld England 
 can daunt, 
 W hile we've plenty leyke young soldier Yeddy . 
 
 THE DAWTIE. 
 TuxE — " I'm o'er youn<^ to marry yet. 
 
 "Tho' weel I leyke ye, Jwohnny lad, 
 I cannot, munnet marry yet! 
 
 My peer auld mudder's unco bad, 
 Sae we a wheyle mun tarry yet ; 
 
 For ease or comfort she has neane — 
 
 Leyfe's just a lang, lang neet o' pain ; 
 
 1 munnet leave her aw her leane, 
 And wunnet, wunnet marry yet !" 
 
 •• Jenny ! dunnet brek this heart. 
 And say, we munnet marry yet ; 
 
 Thou cannot act a jillet's part — 
 Why sud we tarry, tarry yef?
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 13d 
 
 Think, lass, of aw the pains I feel ; 
 I've leyk'd thee lang, nin kens how weel I 
 For thee, Vd feace the varra de'il — 
 O say not, we mun tarry yet l" 
 
 " A weddet leyfe's oft dearly bowt ; 
 
 I cannot, munnet marry yet : 
 Ye ha'e but little — 1 ha'e nought, 
 
 Sae, we a wheyle mun tarry yet 1 
 ]\Jy heart's yer awn, ye needna fear. 
 But let us wait anudder year. 
 And luive, and toil, and screape up gear— 
 
 We munnet, munnet marry yet ! 
 'Twasbut yestreen, my mudder said, 
 
 " O, dawtie I dunnet marry yet ! 
 I'll suin lig i' my last cauld bed ; 
 
 Ton's aw my comfort — tarry yet." 
 \Yhene'er I steal out o' her seet, 
 She seeghs, and sobs, and nought gangs reet— 
 "Whist! — that's her feeble voice ;— Guid neet 1 
 
 We munnet, munnet marry yet !" 
 
 THE CODBECK WEDDIN". 
 Tune — "Andrew Carr." 
 
 True is my song-, tho' lowly be the strain. 
 
 They sing of a weddin at Worton, 
 
 Where aw was feight, fratchin and fun;
 
 l-IO CVMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 Feesh ! sec a yen we've hed at Codbeck, 
 
 As niver was under the sun : 
 The breydegruim was weaver Joe Bewley, 
 
 He com trae about Lowthet Green ; 
 The breyde, Jwohnny ])alton' lish dowter, 
 
 And lietty was weel to be seen. 
 
 Sec patchin and weshin, and bleachin, 
 
 And starchin, and darnin auld duds ; 
 Some lasses thought bng to the weddin — 
 
 I'nax'd, other? sat i' the suds. 
 There w( re tweescwore and seeben inveyted, 
 
 God speed tem, 'gean Cursenmass-day ; 
 Dobson' hid-;, tui, what they mun come bidder— 
 
 I think they were better away. 
 YuT< tliing Ogc^le Willy, the fiddler, 
 
 Caw'd in, wi' auld Jonathan Strang; 
 ^'eist stiff" and stout, lang, leanie, and lazy, 
 
 Frae aw poits com in wi' a bang ; — 
 Frae Urocklebank, Faulders, and Newlands, 
 
 Frae Heskel, Durkhcads, and the Height, 
 Frae Warnell, Stairnmire, Nether \Velton„ 
 
 And awt' way frae Eytonfield-street.* 
 
 Furst auld Jwohnny Dawton we'll nwotlsh, 
 And Mary, his canny douse dearr.e ; 
 
 Son Wully,' and Mally, his sister ; 
 
 Goffet' weyfe, muckle Nanny by neame ; 
 
 ^Vullv Sinclair, Smith Leytle, Jwohu Aitchiii, 
 Tom Ridley, Joe Sim, Peter Weir, 
 
 •Name* 01 Cumberland villages.
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 141 
 
 Gworge Goffet, Jwohn Bell, TMiller Dyer, 
 Joe Head, and Ised Bulman were there. 
 
 We'd bay-cruiks, and hentails, and hanniels. 
 
 And nattlers that fuddle for nought ; 
 Wi'skeape-greaces, skeybels, and scruffins, 
 
 \Vi' maffs better fed far than taught; 
 We'd lads that wad eat for a weager. 
 
 Or feight, ay, till bluid to the knees ; 
 Fell-seyders, and Sower by riff-raff, 
 
 That de'il a bum-bealie dare seize. 
 
 The breyde hung her head, and luik'd sheepish. 
 The breydegruim as vvheyte as a clout; 
 
 The bairns aw gleym'd thro' the kurk windows, 
 The parson was varra devout : 
 
 The ring was lost out of her pocket. 
 The breyde meade a bonny te-dee ; 
 
 Cries Gofi'et' weyfe, 'Meyne's meade o'pinchback, 
 
 • And, la ye ! it fit's till a tee.' 
 
 Now buckl'd, wi' fiddler's afwore them. 
 They gev Michael Crosby a caw ; 
 
 Up spak canny Bewley the breydegruim, 
 ' Get slocken'd, lads, fadder pays aw.' 
 
 We drank till aw seem'd blue about us. 
 We're ay murry deevils, tho' peer; 
 
 JMichaeP weyfe says, ' Widout onie leein, 
 
 * A duck mud ha'e swam on the fleer.' 
 
 Now^, aw 'bacco'd owre, and hawf-drucken, 
 TliQ men fwok wad needs kiss the breyda ;
 
 142 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 Joe Head, that's aye reckon'd be?t spwoksman, 
 Whop'd "guidwad the couple beteyde." 
 
 Says Michael, ' I's reet glad to see you, 
 ' Suppwosin I gat ne'r a plack.' 
 
 Cries t' weyfe, ' That '11 novvther pay brewer, 
 ' IS or get bits o' sarks to yen's back.' 
 
 The breyde wad dance Coddle me Cuddie. 
 
 A threesome then caper'd Scotch reels ; 
 Peter Weir cleek'd up auld Mary Dalton, 
 
 Leyke a cock round a hen neist he steals ; 
 Jwohn Bell yelp'd out ' Sowerby Lassies j' 
 
 Young Jwosep, a lang country dance, 
 He'd got his new pumps Smithson meade him, 
 
 And fain wad show how he cud prance. 
 
 To march round the town, and keep swober, 
 
 The woman fwok thowt was but reet ; 
 'Be wi=e, dui, for yence,' says Jwohn Dyer; 
 
 The breydegruim mud reyde shouder heet j — 
 The youngermak lurried ahint them, 
 
 Till efter them Bell meade a brek ; 
 Tom Ridley was aw baiz'd wi' drinkin. 
 
 And plung'd oft' the steps i' the beck. 
 
 To Hudless's now off they sizell'd, 
 And there gat far niair than enough ; 
 
 Miller Hodgson suin brunt the punch ladle, 
 And full'd ev'ry glass wid his leuf ; 
 
 He thowt he was teakin his mouter. 
 And de'il a bit conscience hes he ;
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 143 
 
 They preym'd him wi' stiff punch and jollup, 
 'Till Sally Scott thowt he wad dee. 
 
 Joe Sim rwoar'd out, ' Bin, we've duin wonders ! 
 
 ' Our iNIally's turn'd howe i' the weame.' 
 "Wi' three strings atween them, the fiddlers 
 
 Strack up, and they reel'd towerts heame ; 
 Meyner Leytle wad now hoist a standert — 
 
 Peer man ! he cud nit daddle far, 
 But stuck in a pant 'buin the middle. 
 
 And yen tuik him heame in a car. 
 
 Tor dinner, we'd stew'd geuse and haggis, 
 
 Cow'd-leady, and het bacon pie, 
 Boird fluiks, tatey-hash, beastin puddin, 
 
 Saut salmon, and cabbish ; forbye 
 Pork, pancakes, black puddins, sheep trotters, 
 
 And custert, and mustert, and veal, 
 Grey-pez keale, and lang apple dumplins — 
 
 1 wish every yen far'd as vveel. 
 
 The breyde geavin aw round about her. 
 
 Cries, ' Wuns ! we forgat butter sopsl' 
 The breydegruim fan nae teyme for talkin. 
 
 But wi'stannin pie he greas'd his chops. 
 We'dlopper'd milk, skimm'd milk, and kurn'd milk, 
 
 "Well watter, smaw beer, aw at yence ; 
 ♦ Shaff ! bring yell in piggens,' rwoars Dalton, 
 
 ' De'il tek them e'er cares for expense.' 
 
 Now aw cut and cleek'd frae their neybors, 
 1'was even down thump, pull and haul j
 
 144 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 Joe Head gat a geuse aw together. 
 
 And offlie crap into the faul ; 
 I\Iu(;k.le Xanny cried ' Shem o' sec weastry !' 
 
 The ladle she hrak owre ill BpII; 
 Tom Dalton sat thrang in a corner. 
 
 And eat nar the weight of his sel. 
 
 A hillibuloo was now started, 
 
 Tvvas, ' Rannigal ! whee cares for tee?' 
 'Stop, Tommy — whe's weyfe was i' th' carrass? 
 
 • Tou'd ne'er been a man, but for me!' 
 
 * Od dang thee !' — ' To jail 1 cud send thee ! 
 
 * Peer scrafflss !' — ' Ihy Ian grows nae gurse I' 
 
 * Ne'er ak ! it's my awn, and it's paid for ! 
 
 'Butwhea was'tstuil auld Tim J wohn' purse V 
 
 Ned Bulman wad feight wi' Gworge Goflet — 
 
 Peer Gwordy he nobbet stript tliin, 
 And luik d leyke a cock out o' fedder, 
 
 Butsuin gat a weel-bleaken'd skin : 
 Neist, Sanderson fratch'd wid a hay-stack, 
 
 And Deavison fuight wi' the whins; 
 Smith Leytle fell out wi' the cobbles, 
 
 And peel'd aw the bark oft' his shins. 
 
 The hay-bay was now somewhat seyded, 
 And young fwok the music men miss'd. 
 
 They'd drucken leyke fiddlers in common, 
 And fawn owre ayont an aul ki>t ; 
 
 Some mair fwok that neet wer a-missin, 
 Than Wully, and Jonathan Strang —
 
 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 145 
 
 But decency whispers, ' What matter ! 
 ' Tou munnet put them in the sang.' 
 
 Auld Dalton thowt he was at Carel, 
 Sa^-s he, ' Jacob ! see what's 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 san bag, 
 Tom Ridley beel'd out, * De'il may care '.' 
 
 * For a whart 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 feight to defend them, 
 
 1 wish he may ne'er want black een. 
 May our murry-neets, clay-daubins, reaces, 
 
 And weddins, aye finish wi' glee ; 
 And when ought's amang us worth nwotish, 
 
 Lang may 1 be present to see. 
 
 THE BEGGAR AND KEATIE. 
 Tune — " O'er the midr amang the heather. 
 
 Whee's rap rappin at the duir. 
 Now when our aul fwok are sleepin 1 
 
 Thou'll git nowt here if thou's puir — 
 Owre the hills thou'd best be creepin ! 
 K
 
 146 
 
 CIMULRLAND BALLADS. 
 
 When sec flaysome fuils we see, 
 Di ct lit fvi ok may start and shudder ; 
 
 I'll nit move the duir to thee — 
 Va- rant-leyke, thou's nowt but bodder ! 
 
 BEGGAR. 
 
 Oh ! guid lassie, let me in ! 
 Tve nae money, meat, or cleedin — 
 
 Starv't wi' this caul angry win ; 
 Aul an helpless — deuth ay dreedin ! 
 
 Let me lig in barn or byre ; 
 Ae brown crust will pruive a dainty; — 
 
 Dui, sweet lass ! what 1 desire, 
 If thou whop'st for peace and plenty [ 
 
 Beggars yen may weel despise — 
 To the sweyne-hull hie an swat thee, 
 
 Rap nae mair if thou be wise — 
 Here's a dog wad fain be at thee : 
 
 irec leyke haw f-wils, far and weyde, 
 Eeggin breed, and meal, and money. 
 
 Some may help to sliew their preyde — 
 I'll iie'cr lift mey han to onie ! 
 
 BEGGAK. 
 
 jNIove the duir to sec as me ; 
 Lift thy han to fwok when starvin ; 
 
 JMeynd, er lang, thou peer umy be ; 
 Pity beggars, when desarvin.
 
 CVMIitnLANI) liALLADS. 147 
 
 Nol)bet lissen to the storm, 
 Tliink. how monie now mun suffer i 
 
 Let rne in thur limbs to warm, 
 And wi' preyde, due thanks I'll offer ! 
 
 KEAIIE. 
 
 I've a sweetheart ; sud he caw, 
 jMonstrous vex'd I'd be to see him ; 
 
 lie helps beggars, yen and aw, 
 Leyke a full ; nae guid 'twill dee him ! 
 
 lie hes gear; Til ne'er be peer — 
 Say nowt mair, or Snap sal beyte thee ; 
 
 iS'oisy surnph ! what, our fwuk hear 
 Thy crazy voice — i'^e off! od wiieyte tiiee ! 
 
 EFGGAR. 
 
 Keate, It's teyme to change mey voice — 
 Heartless wretch, they weel may caw thee ; 
 
 Fain 1 meade thee ay mey choice, 
 Sin the hour whtn i'uist 1 saw thee : 
 
 Lang tliy sweetheart 1 ha'e been ; 
 Thovvt thee gude, an lish, an cliver — 
 
 A e'er will 1 wi' thee be seen. 
 Come what will ! — iareweel forever ! 
 
 THE HAPPY COUPLE. 
 TvNE — " Eitrick Banh.'^ 
 
 Come, "Mary, let's up Eden seydo, 
 An chat the ebemin hours away ;
 
 148 CUMBERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 Tho' hard we toil, leyke millions mair, 
 Industrious fwok sud ay be gay ; — 
 
 Far frae the slanderous noisy town. 
 
 It's sweet the murmerin streams to hear. 
 
 An share the joys o' peace an luive, 
 
 Wheyle some buy plishure far owre dear. 
 
 Just mark that peer bit freetent hare, 
 
 Xow neet draws on, frae heame she'll steal } 
 The weyld burds sweet, in deyke or wood, 
 
 Now bid the sinkin sun fareweel ; 
 Thev joyfu' sing the sang ov thenks, 
 
 On rock, on meedow, bush, or tree ; 
 rCcr try their partners to deceive — 
 
 O, that ilk mortal sae wad be ! 
 
 That savage ha^^-k, o^rre hill an glen, 
 
 Seeks some weak warbler to destroy ; 
 True emblem o' the tyrant, man, 
 
 To crush the peer oft gi'es him joy ; 
 The burds rejoice, an ha'e their toil, 
 
 Unsheltered, blithe the blasts they beyde ; 
 "NVheyle oft, wi' plenty, man compleeus, 
 
 Snug, seated by his awn fire-seyde. 
 
 Our sons come ninnin, Dick and Xed, 
 Twee feyner niver went to schuil ; 
 
 I'd suiner see them coffin'd low, 
 Than owther turn a fop or fuil. 
 
 The maister says Dick's tit for kurk ; 
 And Ned in law peer fwok may seave :
 
 CUMHERLAXD R.MXADS. 149 
 
 What, judge and bishop they may sit, 
 VVhea thee an me lig i' the greave. 
 
 Aa, 'Ma.Ty ! nowt e'er hurts mey meynd, 
 
 But when I cross the kurk-garth gang, 
 I think I see our aul fwok still, 
 
 Fornowther wad dui onie wrang ! 
 A helpless orphan tou was left, 
 
 An fadder, mudder, scarce e'er saw ; 
 Beath lost at sea Nay, dunnet cry ; 
 
 A better warl let's whop they know. 
 
 Sweet bloom'd aw roun, that summer mworn, 
 
 I carved our neames, now pleas'd we see ; 
 Leyke us the tree was in its preyme, 
 
 JBut now it withers, sae man we ! 
 Sworn foes to streyfe, the joys of leyfe 
 
 We've shared sin furst 1 raeade thee meyne ; 
 Reet cheerfu' still, we'll bear ilk ill. 
 
 But come what will, let's ne'er repeyne ! 
 
 CAREL FAIR. 
 Tune — •* H'oo'd and inarried and a'." 
 
 My neame's Jurry Jurden, frae Threlket ; 
 
 Just swat down, and lissen my sang ; 
 I'll mappen aflword some divarsion. 
 And tell ye how monie things gang. 
 Crops o' aw maks are gud ; tateys lang as lap- 
 stens, an dry as meal. Teymos are sae sae ; 
 for the thia-chop'd, hawf-neak'd trimlin beg-
 
 150 CUMDEULAND BALLADS. 
 
 fzars, flock to our house, leyke bees tot' hive : 
 an our Cwoley bit sae monie, I just tuck'tl him 
 i' th' worchet. iMudder boils t^•m a knop o' 
 Lunnen J3uns, ivery day; and fadder gies tem''t 
 barn to lig in. If onie be yebel to work, wey 
 lie pays tem reet weel. Fwok sud aw dui, as 
 they'd be duin tui ; an its naturable, to br g, 
 rader nor starve or steal ; efter aw the rattle ! 
 
 Some threi^p, et the teymes ""ll git better; 
 
 And laugh to see onie repeyne: 
 I's nae pollytishin, that's sarten, 
 
 Ilut Lngland seems in a dccleyne I 
 
 1 rui^f^ afwore three, tudder mwornin, 
 .\iid went owre to see Curel Fair ; 
 
 I'd h 'ard niouie teales o' thur dandii-s — ■ 
 (Jdsu inge ! how they mck the fwok stare ! 
 
 Tliur flay-crows wear lasses stays ; and buy 
 my l.word Wellinten's buits ; cokert, but nit 
 snout-bandet. Mey sartey ! sec a laugh I gat, 
 to see a tarrier meakin watter on yen o' ther 
 legs ! They're seerly mongrels, hawf monkey 
 breed ; sheptfor awt' w^arl leyke wa^ps, smaw 
 i' t' middle. To see them paut pauten about, 
 puts me i' meyn o' our aul gander ; an if they 
 nu-et a bonny lass, they darn't turn roun to luik 
 at her. The "Turk's Heed," an " Tir'd 
 Spwortsman" are bonny seynes, but a dandy 
 wad be far mair comical ; efter aw the rattle !
 
 CX'MRKRLAXD BALLADS. 151 
 
 But, shafFo' soc odJ tiinkun-trankuras ! 
 
 Thur hawt'-witted varmen bang aw : 
 They'd freeton aiil Mck, sud toy meet him — 
 
 A dandy's just iit for a show ! 
 
 1 neist tuik a glowr 'mang the ])ontcher.=, 
 An gleymt at ther lumps o' fat meat ; 
 
 They've aw maks the gully can dive at — 
 It meks peer fwok hungry to see't. 
 "WhatdVebuy ! what d'ye buy?" — " Weya, 
 houtcher, wul te be out at our en oV country, 
 suin? we've a famish bull, nobbet eloeben 
 year aul ; twee braid-backt tips, an a bonny 
 sew." " Nae bull, tips or sweyne for me !" — 
 '• Hes te got any coves heeds to sell, boutcher !"' 
 " Vv'a nay, Tommy; but tou hes yen atop o' 
 thy shouders ! What d'ye buy ? what d'ye buy ? 
 here's beef iit for a bishop ; mutton for a marki-s ; 
 lam for a Ivvord ; aw sworts for aw maks : hee 
 an lovv^, yen an aw : nobbet seebenpence a 
 pun ; efter aw the rattle !" 
 
 Wheyle peer fwok wer starin about tern, 
 Up hobbles an aul chap, an begs — 
 
 Oh ! wad our girt heeds o' the nayshen 
 Just set the peer fwok on their legs ; 
 
 An odd sect I saw, 'twas t'naig market, 
 
 Whoar aw wer as busy as bees ; 
 Sec lurryan, an trottin, anscamprin — 
 
 Lord help tem 1 — theyre meade up o' lees '
 
 152 CVMEERLAND BALLADS. 
 
 " Try a canter, Deavie." — " "Whoar gat te 
 t'powny, Tim V — "Wey atstegshe." — "That's 
 a bkiid meer/' says aul Breakshe, "she was 
 gitten by shrimp, an out o' ]Madam Wagtail ; 
 she wan t' king's plate at Donkister, tudder 
 year." — "Wan the deevil!" says yentuUhim, 
 " Tou means t' breydle at Kingmuir mm!" — 
 " Here's a naig ! nobbet just nvvotish his een ! 
 he can see through a nine inch waw. Fuils 
 tell o' fortifications ; what he hes a breest leyke 
 a fiftification. Dud ye iver see yen cock sec a 
 tail, widout a peppercworn 1" " What dus te 
 ax for em, canny man V — " Wey he's weel 
 worth twenty pun ; but I'll teake hawf." — 
 " Twonty deevils ! I'll gi'e thee twenty shillin ; 
 efter aw the rattle 1" 
 
 What aw trades are bad as horse-cowpers ; 
 
 They mek the best bargain they can ; 
 Fwok say, its the seame in aw countries — 
 
 3Ian leykes to draw kelter frae man ! 
 
 Neist daunderin down to the Cow Fair, 
 
 A famish rough rumpes I saw ; 
 For Rickergeate Iwoses her charter, 
 
 Sud theer be nae feightin at aw. 
 
 A a 1 what a hay -bay ! 'twas just leyke the 
 battle o' Watterlew, Men an women, young 
 an aul, ran frev aw quarters. Theer was sec 
 shoutin, thrustin, pushin, and squeezin ; what 
 they knock'd down staws ; an brak shop win-
 
 CUMEERI-AND BALLADS. 153 
 
 (lows aw to flinders. Thur leed-heedet whups 
 dui muckle mischief; a sairy besrgar gat a 
 bluidy nwose an broken teeth, i' the fray. Hill- 
 top Tom, an Low-gill Dick, the twea feightin 
 rapscallions, wer lugget off by the bealies, to 
 my Iword Mayor's offish ; an thrussen into the 
 black whol. 1 whop they'll lig theer : for it's 
 weel nae ley ves wer lost ; efter aw the rattle ! 
 
 Shem o' them ! thur peer country hanniels, 
 That slink into Carel to feight ! 
 
 De'il bin them ! when free frae hard labour, 
 True plishure sud be their deleyte. 
 
 Theer was geapin an stalrin, 'mang aw maks — 
 " Aa ! gies ty fist, Elltk ! how's tou T' 
 
 " AVey, aw bais'd, an bluitert, an queerish ; 
 " We'll tfck a drop gud mountain dew." 
 " Sees te, Ellek, theer'st peer luikin chap, 
 et meks aw t' bits o' Cummerlan ballets ! — 
 "The deevil ! fye, Jobby, lets off f rev him, 
 for fear'." — "Here's ycr whillimer ; lank an 
 lean, but cheap an clean !" says yen. " Buy 
 a pair of elegant shun, young gentleman," cries 
 a dandy snob, " they wer meade for Mr. Jus- 
 tice Grunt. Weages are hee, and ledder's 
 dear ; but they're nobbet twelve shillin.'' Then 
 a fat chap wid a hammer, selt clocks, cubbtrts, 
 teables, chairs, pots and pans, for nous lit at 
 aw. ^Vhat, I seed fadder talkin to t' lawyer, 
 an gow rd till my een wer sair : but nae ill was 
 duin ; efter aw the rattle !
 
 154 CCMUEnLAND EALT.ADS. 
 
 Then peer bits o' hawf broken farmers 
 
 In legcflns, wer struttin about ; 
 AVer teyme.-; gud, they'd aw become dandies— 
 
 We'll ne'er leeve to see that, 1 doubt ! 
 
 Sec screapin, an snueekin, 'mang t' fiddlers ; 
 
 I crap up the stairs, to be seer ; 
 But suia trottet down by the waiter, 
 
 For de'il a bit caprin was theer. 
 
 What lads and lasses are far owre proud to 
 dance, now-a-days. I stowtert ahint yen de-<t 
 out leyke a gingerbre^-d queen, an when I gat 
 agliff at her, whee sud it be but Jenny Mulrthet, 
 my aul svveetheart,. 1 tried to give her a buss, 
 but cuddent toucli her niuzzel ; for she wore 
 yen o' thur meal scowp bonnets. She ax'd me 
 to buy her a parryswol ; sae we off to tlie dandy 
 shop, an I gat her yen, forby a ritliculous. 
 Jenny'U hev a mountain o' monev ; an mey 
 stars, she's a walloper ! Aa I just leyke a house 
 en i As for me, I's nobbet a peer lillyprushen ; 
 but she'll be meyne, after aw the rattle ! 
 
 Sae we link'd, an we laugh'd, an we chatter'd ; 
 
 Few husseys, leyke Jenny, ye'U see : 
 O hed we but taen off to Gratena, 
 
 Xin wad been sae happy as we ! 
 
 We went thro' the big kurk, an cassel ; 
 
 And nyist tuik a rammel thro' t' streets : 
 What, Carel's the pleace for feyne houses, 
 
 jjut monie a peer body yen meets ;
 
 CU.MKEULAND BALLADS. 15-' 
 
 Aye ! j^en in tatters, wi' ae e'e, shovitot, 
 " Here's last speech, confession, and det-in 
 words o' jNiartha Mumps : she was hang't, for 
 coniniittin a renpe on — " Hut shap ! 1 forgit 
 lil^i neame. Anudd-.r tatterdemallion savs, 
 " f'oni'j buy a full chinse Indy muslin; nobbet 
 sixp.'-nce hawfpenny a yard I" Jenny bowtyen, 
 an it was rotten as muck. Then theer was bits 
 o' thin<:s wi' their neddys, rvvoarin upt' lanes, 
 " lMeno--ki-ship cvvoals !" And chaps cawin 
 " VVat-ter! wat-ter !" it mun be that meks't 
 yell sae smaw. Then they s^^ll puzzin fer 'iin ; 
 what it hes sec a grip o' the gob, it's leyke to 
 mc'k fwok shek their heeds oft'. '1 hey haniiel 
 brass an nwotes, but tiler's nee sillier i' Carel. 
 Sec cheatin, stealin, wheedlin, leein, rwoarin, 
 svvearin, drinkin, feightin, meks Fairs nowt et 
 dow ; efter aw the rattle I 
 
 Thro' leyfe we hev aw maks amang usj 
 
 Sad changes ilk body mun share : 
 To-dav we're just puzzon'd wi' plishure ; 
 
 To-nuvorn we're bent double wi' care ! 
 
 Septeiiiher 18, 1819. 
 
 PEGGY PEX. 
 
 The muln shone breet, the tudder neet ; 
 
 Tiu; kve were milk't, aw wark was duin ; 
 1 sir.iv'd mysel, en cwom't my hair, 
 
 Tlirew ofl the clogs, pat on greas'd shoon j
 
 156 CLMBERLAXD BALLADS. 
 
 The clock strack eight, as out I stule ; 
 
 The rwode I tuik, reet weel I ken ; 
 An crosst the watter, clam the hill, 
 
 1 whops to meet wi' Peggy Pen. 
 
 When i' the wood, I hard some talk ; 
 
 They cuttert on, but varra low ; 
 I hid mysel ahint a yek, 
 
 An Peggy wid a chap suin saw: 
 He smakt her lips, she criet, " give owre ! 
 
 We lasses aw er pleaguet wi' men," 
 I trimlin stuid, but dursent speak ; 
 
 Tho" fain wad coddelt Peggy Pen I 
 
 He cawt her ^Marget, sometymes Miss ; 
 
 He spak queyte feyne, an kisst her han ; 
 He braggt ov aw his fadder hed — 
 
 I seeght ; for we've na house er Ian : 
 Said he, " My dear, I've watcii'd you oft, 
 
 And seen you link through wood and glen, 
 With one George Moor, a rustic poor, 
 
 Not fit to wait on sweet Miss Pen !" 
 
 She drew her han, and turnVl her roun ; 
 
 " Let's hae nae mair sec tawk," says she ; 
 "Tho' Gwordie ^luir be nobbet puir. 
 
 He's dearer nor a prince to me ! 
 jNIey fadder scauls, mworn, nuin, and neet ; 
 
 Mey mudder fratches sair, what then ? 
 Aw this warl's gear cud niver buy 
 
 Frae Gworge, the luive o' Peggy Pen,"
 
 Cl'MBERLAND BALLADS. 157 
 
 " O ."Miss !" says be, " forsret such fools ; 
 
 Nor heed the awkward stupid clown ; 
 If such a creetcher spoke to me, 
 
 rd quickly knock the booby down !" 
 " Come on I'' says I, " thy strength een try ; 
 
 An heed owre heels sec chaps I'd sen ; 
 Lug oft' thy cwoat ; I'll feight aw neet, 
 
 \Vi' three, leyke thee, for Peggy Pen 1" 
 
 Now off he flew ; my airms I threw 
 
 About her weast ; away we went • 
 I ax'd her, if she durst be meyne ; 
 
 She squeez'd my han, an gev consent : 
 We tawkt and jwokt, as lovers sud ; 
 
 We partet at their awn byre en ; 
 An ere anudder month be owre, 
 
 She'll change, to Muir, frae Peggy Pen I 
 
 CURSEXMESS EVE. 
 Tune — " The young May Moon.'^ 
 
 "What, Jwosep ! how go?" — " Wey, bluitert 
 and baizt. 
 
 We've hed a meast tarrible rig, ye tnow ; 
 I's thin as a lat, greypt, tharsty, and seeck. 
 
 For ye, ye're as fat as a pig, ye tnow : 
 I thowt to mysel, this mworn, as I ruse. 
 
 It's a monstrous warl this were in, ye tnow; 
 For nine out o' ten, beath women and men, 
 
 Er peer silly taistrels, we fin, ye tnow 1
 
 1.38 
 
 CLMKERLAXD BALLADS. 
 
 " Last neet, efter dark'nin, 'twas Curscnuio?:? Eve, 
 
 I walkt up towerts ^^aig's Irkad, ye tnow ; 
 Tiieer whee suJ 1 see, but sweyne 5>am, an ruff 
 Rob. 
 
 Treype Tom, smiddy Dick, an detf Reid, ye 
 tnow : 
 Ther was limpin Lanty, and bottlenwost Jack, 
 
 3Jug Matthew, and KuistyCunicatch,ye tnow; 
 Aul wry-gobb'd Stymie, an turn-cwoat Jeraniy — 
 
 Thowt 1, we mun suin hev a fratch, ye tnow. 
 
 " What they'd laik at lanter, the cairds were 
 brong in, 
 They drew up, drank, laught, an jwokt, ye tnow ; 
 It's best to sit whiet, thinks I to uiysel, 
 
 Sael crap nar the chimley, and snuukt, ye tnow:" 
 " Come! down wi' yer lanters ! ruff Robin wan 
 last" — 
 " Whee deals!'' — "Prod, shiffle, and cut, ye 
 tnow" — 
 " Tnock roun"' — " I've nowt'' — Here's a deuce 
 an twee trays" — 
 " Wey that's nobbet a ban fer Put, ye tnow !' 
 
 " ^lug Matthew just yen and threehopens lost. 
 For turn-cwoat was ay a big cheat, ye tnow ; 
 
 A\ hat, he hid king and queen anundtr histnee — 
 Sec gamlin can niver be rtet, ye tnow 1 
 
 "buck up!" — " \S hat's trumps i" — "That's 
 meyne" — " Nay meyne !" 
 Cries turn-cwoat, " Ve'beathtellaleeyetnow!''
 
 CU-MBERL.AND E.\I.L.ADS. 159 
 
 They seed him lug out the king and the queen — 
 Mug Matthew suin bleakent his ee, ye tnow. 
 
 " Sec cleekin at brass ! what, the teable they splat, 
 
 An kickt up a row in a crack, ye tnow ; 
 Sweyne Sam tnockt out peer Treype Tom 'teeth. 
 
 Ruff" Rob felt bottlenwost Jack, ye tnow ; 
 Deef Reid and Lanty, leyke twee bull dogs. 
 
 They splattert about, here an theer, ye tnow; 
 Cumcatch kickt loun in liis snout-ban clogs, 
 
 'Till Smiddy laid him on the fleer, ye tnow ! 
 
 " Now weyves an dowters com bouncin in ; 
 
 Bett bottlenwose brong in a cruteh, ye tnow ; 
 She aimtat Ruff" Rob, but the lanleady hat ; 
 
 Peer INIeable was learnt varra much, ye tnow : 
 The lanlword sawt, an he cleekt up t' por, 
 
 His silly aul deame to seave, ye tnow ; 
 An swore, if onie yen clincht afist, 
 
 " Od rot him ! he's lig inViis greave, ye tnow!'' 
 
 " Aul wry-gobb'd Seymie neist meade a lang 
 speech. 
 Bad tem drop aw their fratchin and speyte, ye 
 tnow ; 
 " "What, neybors !" says he, " ye'd far better gree, 
 Kor for lawyers and doctors thus feight, ye tnow.' 
 It's best to sit whiet, and laugh at iik riot — 
 
 Let's whop better teymes '11 suin come, ye tnow/"' 
 The hay-bay novv ceast, what, he spak leyke a 
 priest, 
 An cawt fer a bottle ov rum, ye tnow.
 
 160 CUMBEHLAND BALLADS. 
 
 " They swattet tem down, tuikt' weyves on the 
 tnee — 
 
 Treype Tom gev a Cummerlan sang, ye tnow; 
 Some crackt an jvvokt, some chowt and smuikt. 
 
 An some thowt it teyme for to gang, ye tnow: 
 The clock strack yen er ae hawf wer geane. 
 
 What, udders the house waddentleave, ye tnow: 
 They drank, they rwoart, they sleept, they 
 snwoart — 
 
 Sae muckle fer Cursenraess Eve, ye tnow I" 
 
 END OF THE BALLADS.
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 1. — Let\ gow to Rosleii fair.— The%e 
 fairs are holden on an extensive tract of common, 
 called Rosley-hill. They commence on VVhit- 
 INIonday and continue once a fortnig lit till .Michael- 
 mas, It is impossible to convey an adequate idea 
 
 of them by description. One part of the hill 
 
 is covered with horses and black cattle, with 
 dealers, drovers, and jockies ; who, if the day be 
 windy and sultry, are involved in a hurricane of 
 dust, almost as violent in its duration as that which 
 sweeps the arid deserts of Africa : another part is 
 overspread with the booths of mercers, milliners, 
 hardwaremen, and liread-bakers. Here you see 
 the mountebank, hawker, and auctioneer, address- 
 ing the gaping crowd from a wooden platform ; 
 and there you hear the discordant strains of the 
 ballad-singer, the music of the bagpipe and the 
 violin, of the fife, and the " spirit-stirring dium." 
 
 Tents of innkeepers, crowded with bottles and 
 
 barrels, are interspersed in every part of the festal 
 
 ground, but particularly in the vicinity of the 
 
 horse fair, where the heat and dust of the day 
 
 L
 
 162 
 
 occasion a more than usual thirpt ; and, much to 
 the honour of these ktiiglitsoftJiecork ^nd spiggot, 
 the malt and spirituous li([uors which they retail 
 to their thirsty customers, are so judiciously di- 
 luted with water, that they operate with all the 
 innocence of simple diuretics ; so that it is not 
 uncommon to see a company of hale farmers, 
 after having exhausted all the casks and bottles 
 in these moving cellars, returning to their own 
 houses with all the sobriety and gravity in which 
 they left them in the morning. 
 
 Of these fairs, which are prolonged till they 
 dwindle into insignificance, the second is particu- 
 larly noted for a fine assemblage of Cumbrian 
 lasse-J, who, in different parties, parade the hill, 
 in all the artless simplicity of rural beauty, till 
 some rustic admirer displays his gallantry and his 
 love, by escorting a select number of them to some 
 neighbouring tent, and treating them with cake 
 and punch, and the music of the bagpipe and 
 fiddle. — AV hen these acknowledgements have been 
 paid to their beauty, they return to the tield to 
 attack and to conquer; for to a girl, who has 
 received from Nature her share of beauty, the 
 whole day is distinguished by a succession of 
 triumphs. The cakes, ribbons, and handkerchiefs, 
 (ihe tributes of rural gallantry) are, on their return 
 home, carefully deposited, as so many illustrious 
 trophies of their victories. 
 
 At these fairs are sold a species of cheese called
 
 163 
 
 tWhillymer, or, as some whimsically style it, 
 Rosleij Cheshire. It is as remarkable for its 
 poverty as that of Stilton is for its richness ; and 
 its surface is so hard, that it frequently bids defi- 
 ance to the keenest edge of a Cumbrian giillij, and 
 its interior substance so very tough, that it affords 
 rather occupation to the teeth of a rustic than 
 nourishment to his body, making his hour of re- 
 past, (to use the expression of an ingenious friend) 
 the severest part of his day's labour. 
 
 About noon the boundaries of the fair are 
 perambulated, or, as it is provincially called, 
 "ridden ." — which exhibits a spectacle ' 'sufficient" 
 
 i(to use the words of Dr: Johnson) "to awaken 
 the most torpid risibility." A number of lairds, 
 farmers, tradesmen, and mechanics, mount their 
 I horses, and, in a slow and solemn pace, wind 
 round the circuit of the hill, accompanied by a 
 train of venerable fiddlers, many of whom have 
 been the tormentors of cat-gut for almost half a 
 century. — These minstrels, who, during the rest 
 of the year, travel on foot from village to village, 
 giving music in return for oats or barley, are on 
 these occasions, by the favour of their friends, 
 mounted on horseback, and provided with better 
 clothes. 
 
 NOTE 2. — I went mij icays down to Curel fair. 
 — Carlisle fair, or, as it is called by the country 
 people, Carel fair, is holdcn ou the 26th of
 
 164 
 
 August, and i? so noted for the number and variety 
 of Its amusements and choice of commodities, 
 that there is hardly a villager within the circuit 
 often miles who does not attend it, except perhaps 
 two or three unhappy swains and nymphs, whom 
 the authority of a morose parent, or a churlish 
 master or mistress, confines at home. 
 
 A Cumberland lad, when he meets his sweet- 
 heart at a fair, whether by appointment or accident, 
 throws his arms round her waist in all the raptures 
 of love, conducts her to a dancing room, places 
 her beside him on a bench, and treats her liberally 
 with cake and punch. A\'hen a vacancy happens 
 on the floor, he leads her out to dance a jig or a 
 reel. If her choice be a reel, another partner 
 being necessary, he makes a bow to some other 
 girl in the company, and at the end of tiie dance 
 he salutes each of his fair partners with a cordial 
 kiss, if its cordiality can be ascertained by the 
 loudness of its sound ; for a plain, honest rustic, 
 impresses his kisses with such vehemence on the 
 roseate lips of his fair one, that they have been 
 compared by Burns to the crack of a waggoner's 
 v.hip ; and, with equal happiness, by the author 
 of the preceding Eallads, to the sound of a gale's 
 latch. 
 
 At the close of the day, a Cumberland nistic 
 woubl think himself deficient in common gallantry, 
 if he ommitted to escort his sweetheart to her owa
 
 165 
 
 house, — a favour that she always re{)avs by a 
 more than usual portion of smiles on his next visit. 
 
 NOTE 3. — When aio i' auld ficok ivere lig!!;iit 
 asleep. — A Cumbrian peasant pays his addresses 
 to his sweetheart during the silence and solemnity 
 of midnight, when every bosom is at rest, except 
 that of love and sorrow. Anticipating her kind- 
 ness, he will travel ten or twelve miles, over hills, 
 bogs, moors, and mosses, undiscouraged by the 
 length of the road, the darkness of the night, or 
 the intemperature of the weather — On reaching 
 her habitation, he gives a gentle tap at the win- 
 dow of her chamber, at which signal she im- 
 mediately rises, dresses herself, and proceeds with 
 all possible silence to the door, which she gently 
 opens, lest a crocking hinge, or a barking dog, 
 should awaken the family. 
 
 On his entrance into the kitchen, the luxuries 
 of a Cumbrian cottage — cream and sugared curds 
 — are placed before him by the fair liand of his 
 DULCiNEA. Next the courtship commences, pre- 
 viously to which the fire i-; darkened or extinguished, 
 lest its light should guide to the window some idle 
 or licentious eye. In this dark and uncomfortable 
 situation, (at least uncomfortable to all but lovers) 
 they remain till the advance of day, depositing 
 in each other's bosoms the secrets of love, and 
 making vows of unalterable affection.
 
 160 
 
 Though I am so far partial to my fair countrj-- 
 women, that in some instances I respect their very 
 prejudices, I cannot conclude this note without 
 representing to them the danger and impropriety 
 of admitting their lovers during those hours of the 
 night, which virtue and innocence have appro- 
 priated to repose. Nothing more encourages 
 unbecoming familiarities, nothing more promotes 
 dissolute manners, nothing more endangers female 
 chastity, nothing more facilitates the designs of 
 the seducer, than these night-courtships. 
 
 A custom that leads to such serious consequen- 
 ces, however general it may be, or whatever 
 antiquity it may claim, cannot be too soon abolish- 
 ed; and I am so much convinced of the good sense 
 and purity of mind of the Cumbrian fair, that I 
 am confident, as soon as they reflect on the guilt 
 and misery to which it so often leads, their virtue 
 will take alarm, and they will see the danger of 
 admitting the addresses of men in improper situa- 
 tions and at improper times. 
 
 XOTE 4. — I got aw the ncusfar and nar. — 
 Amidst the laborious duties which his condition 
 of life imposes upon him, a Cumbrian peasant 
 finds leisure and opportunities for collecting and 
 disseminating village news. His intelligence is 
 gathered in dlff'erent quarters, but generally at 
 the mill, while his batch of corn is grinding ; or 
 at the smithy, while his clogs axe receiving their 
 customary load of iron.
 
 167 
 
 "\V hen lie lias completed hiscollectlon, he travel>^ 
 witli all the expedition of a courier, from village 
 to villaoe, from house to house, gratifying every 
 inquisitive mind, and attracting every vacant ear. 
 
 He is the "historian of his native plain," and 
 grives an accurate relation of a wrestling or a 
 boxing match, discriminating the respective merits 
 of the combatants, and pointing out the causes 
 tliat led to victory or defeat. If his own actions 
 be the subject of his conversation, he becomes 
 more than usually eloquent, elevating his tone 
 and diction agreeably to the precept of Salust : 
 " dictis excvquanda sunt facta," great actions de- 
 mand a corresponding grandeur of style. To 
 discover the extent of his political knowledge to 
 the public, he assembles a group of his neighbours 
 round his evening fire, or, after the fatigues of 
 the day are finished, goes to the ale-house, 
 
 " Where village statesmen talk with looks profound, 
 "And uesvs much older than their ale yo rouud." 
 
 GOLDSMITH. 
 
 NOTE 5. — A boggles been seen, 8<c. — The fault 
 of the present age is not that it believes too much, 
 but that it believes too little. Its illuminati 
 have ejected from their creeds not only the fables 
 of giants, fairies, and necromancers, but the truths 
 of revelation and the facts of sacred history. They 
 wish to reform our politics,— our philosophy, — 
 and our manners, and yet would take away that
 
 168 
 
 religion, to which wo are indebted for our public 
 and domebtic happiness. 
 
 Were a missionary from this new echool to visit 
 those sec|uestcred parts of Cumberland, where the 
 superstitions of our ancestors are preserved in all 
 their purity, what stubborn tenets would he have 
 to contend with ! What shades of mental dark- 
 ness would his philosophy have to penetrate ! In 
 almost every cottaee he would see the Bible, and 
 the histories of giants, fairies, witches, and ap- 
 paritions, occupying the same shelf, and equally 
 pharing the belief and engaging the attention of 
 their rustic readers. The effects, indeed, of these 
 5acred and fabulous records are different: the one 
 shedding over the mind a pleasing serenity ; the 
 other, a sombre melancholy. 
 
 In the days of anticjuity, the houses, woods, and 
 rivers of Greece and Kome were frequented by 
 Lares, Fauns, Dryads, and Naiads — all of thera 
 cheerful in their nature, and friendly to man. The 
 G HACKS and the Ldvis sported on their plains, and 
 on their mountains the IMvsfS strung their harps. 
 But the Genii that haunt the romantic vallies, the 
 hills, woods, and rivers of Cumberland, are so 
 mischievous and malevolent in their disposition, 
 so terrific in their aspect, and hostile to the human 
 race, that a person would be thought very regard- 
 less of his safety, were he to entrust himself at 
 any late hour of the night in the neighbourhood
 
 169 
 
 of their haunts. Though of an aerial nature, tliese 
 beings often assume, during their nocturnal ram- 
 bles on our earth, a corporeal form, that the 
 gross optic nerves of poor mortals might be able 
 to take their size, form, and aspect. 'I'hey are 
 generally taciturn ; but when they do break silence, 
 their unearthly cries " make night hideous." — 
 The benighted peasant no sooner hears them than 
 he discovers the imminence of his danger, and 
 hastens home with precipitated steps, his hair 
 standing on end, "like quills upon the fretful 
 porcupine." It sometimes happens that, in the 
 rapidity of his flight, he is under the necessity of 
 leaving his clogs in the mire, in order to save 
 (what is certainly of greater consequence to a 
 breathing mortal) his carcase. 
 
 IsOTE 6. — Oh, sec a ueildin I've been at. — 
 Tlie day of marriage is in all countries a day of 
 festivity ; because the married state is supposed 
 to bring an addition to our domestic happiness, 
 
 ipeihaps greater than a cynical old bachelor will 
 allow. 
 Among the plebeians of Cuumberland the whole 
 ;| day glides away amidst music, dancing, and noisy 
 || revelry. Karly in the morning, the bridegroom, 
 attended by a select party of his friends, and 
 mounted on liorseback, proceeds to the house of 
 the bride, where tliey breakfast. As soon as this 
 reyast ig fiuibhed, the bndt; makes a silent retreat.
 
 170 
 
 and arranges every ringlet. After she has paid 
 this attention to her person, she joins the nuptial 
 party, who proceed in a regular cavalcade tovvaids 
 the church, accompanied by a tiddltr, wlio 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 neighbourinfx ale-house, where 
 many a flowing bumper of home-brewed ale is 
 quaffed to the health of the married couple. Ani- 
 mated with earthly nectar, they gallop full speed 
 towards the bride's habitation, where a handker- 
 chief is presented to the person who shall first reach 
 the goal. When the dinner, which consists gener- 
 ally of beef, bacon, pies, and puddings, is placed 
 upon tlie board, every individual in the party carves 
 for himself, and loads his trencher with a mess of 
 provisions, which many men, in those degenerate 
 davs, would consider a sufficient burden for the 
 back. After dinner the spirits of the company re- 
 ceive an additional elevation from copious potations 
 of ale and whisky, from the music of the village- 
 minstrel, from the son-j and the dances. The 
 effects of the liquor soon discover themselves 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 
 common consequence of intemperate cups) usually 
 commences, presenting a scene worthy of the 
 pencil of a Hogarth.
 
 NOTES. 171 
 
 About midnight, or as soon as peace if; estab- 
 lished among the belligerent parties, the bride 
 retires to her bed-chamber, and, while she un- 
 dresses herself, delivers a stocking to one of her 
 female attendants, who throws it among the 
 company, and the person upon which it lights, 
 will, it is supposed, be next married. 
 
 NOTE 7. — De'il 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 all polite circles, and are only 
 to be found among the dregs of the commonalty. 
 
 NOTE 8. — 1 teas sehenteen last CoUop-Mfliidaif. 
 — The first Monday before Lent is provincially 
 called Cflllop-Mondai) ; and the first Tuesday, 
 Pancake-Tuesday ; — because on these two days 
 collops and pancakes form the chief repast of the 
 country people ; — a custom derived from our an- 
 cestors, who gave full indulgence to their appetites 
 a day or two before the arrival of that long and 
 meagre season — the Quadrigesimal Tast. 
 
 NOTE 9. — Had toil seen her at kiirk, Sec, — 
 From the levit}'^ of air, which distinguishes some 
 of my fair countrywomen during the hours of 
 public worship, it would not be uncharitable to 
 suppose that they attend the church from the same
 
 172 
 
 view as tbey do fairs. "What can we think of a 
 young woman whose eye is continually roving 
 from one part of the audience to another, observing 
 everv dress, and examining every countencc with 
 the minuteness if not with the penetration of a 
 Lavator? What can we think, but that she is 
 destitute of those soft, retiring graces, which so 
 much adorn her sex, and give so much attraction 
 to beauty] 
 
 NOTE 10. — The dumb uife teas tellin their 
 fortunes. — A person, born without the faculty of 
 speech, is thought, by the illiterate part of the 
 Cumbrian peasantry, to possess the gift of pre- 
 science ; and this supposed extraordinary endow- 
 ment gives him so much confidence and veneration 
 V ith that class of the community, that, if he 
 possess not common honesty, itbecomesthe means 
 of drawing pence from their pockets. 
 
 Fortune-telling, (the most lucrative part of 
 vaticination) is often professed by women, who, 
 having no settled abode, travel from village to 
 village, all of them really or pretendedly dumb; 
 for the most voluble tongue among them can sub- 
 mit to a temporarv restraint, when the credit of 
 their profession, and consequently their livelihood, 
 depends upon its silence. 
 
 As soon as one of these strolling sybils arrive 
 at a village, she is immediatelv surrounded bv a
 
 173 
 
 plebian group, all of them anxious to know "the 
 colour of their future fate ; and it is certainly 
 something to her credit, that instead of adding 
 cruelty to the crime of imposition, by darkening 
 the perspective with a train ofdisasters, she scatters 
 over it roses and sunshine. The laborious rustic, 
 who at present provides with difficulty for the 
 wants of the day beholds his future hours gli- 
 ding- amidst afluence, abundance, and pleasures: 
 while the village-maid, blushing with health and 
 love, is gratified by the near approach of an 
 honourable and opulent marriage. Vet these kind 
 prophetesses, who lighten the pressure of the 
 present moment, by making the destinies smile 
 upon the future, are threatened with gaols, stocks, 
 and pillories ! 
 
 NOTE 11. — Xoiv, Kate, full forty years ha'e 
 fioivn. — We have here a couple enjoying tran- 
 quility in their old 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 yet look back upon it with satisfaction, 
 because it had been innocent, and recall to mind, 
 without pain, the daily toils they had undergone, 
 in providing for 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 
 repaying, with filial piety, the numerous favours
 
 174 XOTES. 
 
 %vhich parental affection had conferred upon them. 
 
 The example of this aged couple may be pro- 
 posed as a model of conduct to that part of the 
 community whose lot is labour. Under all their 
 necessities, dilhculties and hardships, let tliem 
 persevere in a faithful discharo^e of their duties, — 
 and remember that virtue will ultimately triumph 
 over every species of external distress : 
 
 ' Ye good distrest ! 
 
 "Ye noble few ! who here unt)endiiig^ stand 
 
 " Beneath life's pre.«sure, yel bear up a while, 
 
 "And your bounded view, which only saw 
 
 " A little part, deem'd evil, is no more : 
 
 " The storms of WINTRY TIME will quirkly pass, 
 
 " And one unbounded SPRI^G encircle alL " 
 
 THOMSOX. 
 
 NOTE 12. — The Impatient Lassie. — The pas- 
 sion of love, restrained by forms and ceremonies 
 in the higher classes of society, breaks out in all 
 its vehemence in the breast of a simple, uneducated 
 country peasant. I n him it is an instinct of nature, 
 unchecked by delicacy, and unrefined by senti- 
 ment. As if ashamed to aknowledge its dominion, 
 he visits the object of his aflections under the 
 shades of night, and always on a Saturday, that 
 the etlects of the nights 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
 
 NOTES. 175 
 
 he not reach her habitation at the appointed hour, 
 suffers all the anguish of forebodinc!,' tears : — some 
 disastrous accident has befallen him, some cool- 
 ness in his passion has taken place, some rival, 
 with more beauty or more address, has supplanted 
 her in his affections. Apprehensions like these 
 continue to agitate her bosomi, till a tap at the 
 window or door announces the arrival of her suitor. 
 
 NOTE 13. — Oh, durst we lasses nohbet gang. 
 ■ — In most countries the men pay their addresses 
 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 
 the force and sanction of a political regulation. 
 Though many 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 disclose the secrets of her bosom on so tender 
 a subject as that of love? And if such be the 
 constitutional timidity of the fair sex, let us spare 
 their blushes, by anticipating their wishes, and 
 meeting with equal ardour that passion which 
 modesty and custom only allow them to discover 
 by the silent language of the eye. 
 
 NOTE 14. — Sit down, and V II count oivre my 
 siceethearis. — To have a great variety of sweet- 
 hearts, is, in the opinion of a simple country girl, 
 a virtual acknowledgement of the prtdomiuating
 
 176 
 
 force of her charms ; and she sekh)m discovers her 
 error, till she finds herself neglected 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 ; and surely her chastity may be disputed, 
 who, without any regard to their character, con- 
 duct, and views, indiscriminately admits of the 
 visits of various suitors. 
 
 NOTE 15.— To th' pocket-ichol, Sec— In 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 wlio can beast he never felt the fires, 
 " Tlie tieniblii)}^ throbbiiig-s of the young desires, 
 " ^\ hen he belield the breathing roses glow, 
 " And the soft heavings of tlie living snow; 
 "Tlie wa\ing ringlets of the aubnrn iiair, 
 " And all the rapturous graces of the fair ? 
 "Ah! what defence, if fixt on him he spy 
 " The languid sweetness ot the stedfast eye !" 
 
 LUSIAD. 
 
 The charms of the fair have indeed in all ages ' 
 triumphed over the human breast. The pietv c ' 
 David, and the wisdom of Solomon gave wav
 
 177 
 
 when opposed to their force ; and Julius Caesar, 
 the conqueror of the world, forgot his fame and 
 his victories in the arms of an Egyptian beauty. 
 Even the mighty Hercules threw down his club 
 with which he had achieved so many arduous 
 enterprizes, and became a humble suitor at the 
 feet of an imperious fair one. 
 
 NOTE 16.— Twos last Leady Fair, l-c— 
 This fair is held on Lady-day, at Wigton ; and, 
 like other Cumbrian fairs, passes away amicldt 
 mirth, music, and dancing. 
 
 NOTE 17.— irr Laird Hodgon, <?fc.— In 
 Cumberland the appelation of laird is applied to 
 the proprietors of landed property, and to their 
 eldest sons. Their oldest daughters are styled 
 ladies. 
 
 NOTE 18. — For that u-as thepleace my gran- 
 f adder uas buoni in. — A predilection for the 
 place of our nativity is a patriotic prtjudice, that 
 does honour to our feelings, and shev»s a lieart 
 formed for receiving the best impressions. It 
 display's itself in early life, and does not diminish 
 with years, with absence, with travel, or with 
 distance. A Cumbrian mountaineer feels its 
 influence, when, amidst the rudest scenes of nature, 
 he contentedly sits down in his patern;.! cottage, 
 takes his homely fare, sings his artless song, or 
 M
 
 178 
 
 joins in the rustic dance. — 
 
 "Tho' poor the peasant's but, his feasts thu' small, 
 
 " He sees his little lot ttie lot of all ; 
 
 " Sees no contiguous palace rear its head, 
 
 '• To shame the meanness of his humble shed ; 
 
 " No costly lord the sumptuous bauquet deal, 
 
 " To make him loath his vegetable meal ; 
 
 " But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil, 
 
 "£ach wish contracting fits hira for the soil." 
 
 GOLDSMITH. 
 
 In whatever distant country, or in whatever 
 situation of life, fortune may place U3, we still 
 remember with aftection the place of our birth, 
 and cheer the hours of absence with the hopes of 
 returning to it, — of seeing the companions of our 
 earlv years, — and of revisiting these scenes that 
 have been long endeared to us by tender recollec- 
 tions. In what melting strains of genuine pathos 
 did Ovid break out, when, in those remote regions 
 to which he was banished, he recollected his 
 country, his home, and his friends ! 
 
 Et poena est patria sola carere mea ! 
 
 NOTE 19. — Tom Linton. — A man of licen- 
 tious opinions and dissolute morals is considered, 
 bv his companions in guilt, as a liberal thinker 
 and as a man of spirit and gallantry ; but, to th( 
 virtuous and wiser part of the world, lie appear i 
 as a timid and illiberal-minded wretch, cailou 
 to every honourable feeling, and as contractei , 
 in his understanding as he is depraved in hi
 
 179 
 
 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 
 produced, there may be found some who disgrace 
 her, who can help it ? The soil that gives growth 
 and vigour to the majestic oak, frequently nou- 
 rishes the loathsome reptile. 
 
 NOTE 20. — The Happy Family. — The nume- 
 rous instances of domestic felicity, which we 
 meet with among the lower classes of society, 
 and the dissatisfaction and inquietude which so 
 often prevail among the higher ranks, w^ill con- 
 vince us, that to acquire riches and distinctiou, 
 is not to acquire contentment and happiness. 
 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 purchase, or rank confer. Every remove 
 from his humble, unambitious situation, would 
 probably be so many removes from innocence 
 and peace. 
 
 Poverty, indeed, however supported by virtue, 
 has its peculiar distresses ; but what are its dis- 
 tresses to the pangs felt by guilty afHiience 1 On 
 the innocent and uncorrupted heart gleams of 
 :!OiBfort are continually darting through the dark- 
 d;6t shades of human life.
 
 180 NOTP^. 
 
 NOTE 21.— Now P}ouie a xcife rcUl u-eep for 
 jo'j. — Peace brings so many blessings, and puts 
 a period to so many calamities, 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 con- 
 tenimtnt in every village ; to see domestic hap- 
 piness restored to an afflicted family, by the re- 
 turn of a husband, a father, or a favourite son ; 
 to behold 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 chan- 
 nels I If such be the effects of peace, who can 
 behold without a tear those guilty laurels which 
 have been obtained in unjust wars, amidst scenes 
 of blood and devastation, — amidst the widow's 
 tears and the orphan's cries I 
 
 NOTE 22. — I think o' TTJ!/ playmates, 8<.c. — 
 V.'e always look back with pleasure on our early 
 years, because at that period every object thai 
 surrounds us appears in gay and pleasing colours 
 our hearts are light, our affections warm, ou 
 hopes eager, and our pursuits ardent. 
 
 In whatever part of the world we reside, w 
 always feel a passionate desire to return to th 
 spot V. here we passed the hours of our early life | 
 to see again the companions of our childliood; 
 to re-trace the scenes of our juvenile frolics ; i.
 
 Kbix.s. 181 
 
 re-visit the green where we have sported, the 
 eliades under which we have reposed, and the 
 banks where we have often loitered. A modern 
 po;;t, in describing the scenes where his early 
 yovith was pass^l, hreaks out in the genuine 
 language of poetry and ol" nature : 
 
 " Ah. happy hills! ah, pleasing shade! 
 
 " Ah, fields belov'd in vain ! 
 *' VVliere once my careless childhood stray'd, 
 
 " A stranger yet to pain ! 
 " I feel the gales that from you blow 
 '* A momentary bliss bestow ; 
 " As, waving fresh their gladsome wingj. 
 
 " My weary soul they seem to sooth, 
 
 ** And, redolent of joy and youUi, 
 •• To breathe a second spring " 
 
 GRAV. 
 
 These tender feelings, which exist in a more or 
 less degree in every bo?oni, alford a melancholy 
 attestation, that the more we atlvance in life the 
 more are our years loaden with sorrow, with care, 
 and with discontent ! 
 
 NOTK 23. — That farmers are. happier, &c. — 
 
 The poets, in their des<riptionsof human felicity, 
 
 ! generally draw their images from pastoral life, 
 
 I becau.se they suppose where there is simplicity 
 
 ' there is also innocence and happiness. But 
 
 when we search in rural life for the original from 
 
 which they draw their beautiful pictuies, we 
 
 I search for what is not always to be found. ^V3
 
 182 
 
 fnten RPe there vice in all its grossness, and the 
 tranquility of life destroyed by the agitation of 
 the passions. With the ploughman's song and 
 the shepherd's lute we sometimes hear the mur- 
 murs of complaint, and the voice of discontent. — 
 In every situation the degree of happiness and 
 misery v.ill be found in proportion to the preva- 
 lence of virtue and vice. 
 
 NOTE 24. — Oh this ireary, u-faru u-arl ! — 
 Sucli will be the exclamation of every one who 
 has lived to that peiiod of life when the powers 
 of sensation are blunted, when worldly objects 
 no longer attach the heart, and when those amuse- 
 ments which gave rapture to youth can no longer 
 please. Weightd down with infirmities and 
 sorrow, and standing on the stage of life as a 
 friendless, forlorn, insulated individual, the bur- 
 den of an old m.an's song must ever be, " Oh this 
 weary, weary world 1" 
 
 NOTE 25.— Lai Stephen— The hero of this 
 ballad seems to have been, from his multifarious 
 accomplishments, the Crkighion of his village, 
 'j'hough diminutive in stature, yet his agility and 
 prowess, his superior skill in rural occupations, 
 and expertness at gymnastic exercises, liighly 
 exalted him in the eves of his countrywomen, 
 and gave him a reputation that was not soon to 
 decay : and a clown is as proud of his rustic
 
 183 
 
 honours as a warrior is of his laurels, or a poet is 
 of his bays. 
 
 NOTE 26. — 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 enamoured rustic usually 
 repays this mark of regard by an increased love 
 in his next visit to her. 
 
 NOTE "27. — At Carel I stuid ivi'' a strae i' mil 
 mouth. — Tn Cumberland, servants who are em- 
 ployed in husbandry are seldom engaged for a 
 longer term than half a year. — On the customary 
 days of hiring, they proceed to the nearest town, 
 and that their intentions might be known, stand 
 in the market-place with a sprig or straw in their 
 mouths. 
 
 NOTE 28. — Them ill reed-cu'oated fellnwa, Sec. 
 — In every profession there are men who dis- 
 grace it. We cannot condemn in too severe 
 terms those sergeants of recruiting parties who 
 inlist their countrymen, w^hen excess of drinking 
 has deprived them of all reason and reflection. 
 To recruit our army, it is not necessary to have 
 recourse to unjustifiable arts. TKere will never 
 be V anting volunteers to fill its ranks, as long as 
 we know the value of that con^ititution which 
 secures to us our civil and religious liberties.
 
 184 
 
 NOTE 29.— Matthew Macree .—Thh noted 
 rustic seems to have reached the pinnacle of vil- 
 lage fame. He had recommended himself to the 
 notice of the fair, like the knight errants in the 
 times of chivalry, by the variety of his accom- 
 
 f)lishments. He excelled at running, wrestling, 
 eaping and boxing. 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 dis- 
 tinction as satisfied his ambition ; and what greater 
 gratification do they receive who fill the world 
 with their names 1 
 
 NOTE 30. — I can't for the life o' me get her 
 to work. — \Vhen love makes an attack upon us, 
 he never grants us a truce till he has subdued the 
 heart. He pursues us to our occupations, to our 
 amusements, to our closets, to our chambers. 
 The whole mind is engrossed by the object ofoirr 
 affections, and nothing givts us pleasure but what 
 has an immediate or indiiect relation to it; while 
 with the possession or loss of it we connect our 
 happiness or misery, 
 
 NOTE 31. — Au, lad! icc n tnurry-neet, S\'c. 
 ■ — The common people ia Cumberland, like the 
 common people in all countries, have their festive 
 fcents, in which they mingle with ardour, and 
 forget awhile the toils, cares, and hardships pe- 
 culiar to their stations. Amidst their coarse and
 
 NOTES. IBS 
 
 homely pastimes their hearts expand to gaiety, 
 and receive more gen\iine gratification than is to 
 be found among those splendid amusements which 
 the rich, the idle, and the dissipated have invented 
 to diversify life, and remove that tredium, languor, 
 and disquietude, which oppress a heart enervated 
 by luxury, and corrupted by vice. 
 
 A Cumbrian merry-night is, as its name im- 
 ports, a night appropriated to mirth and festivity. 
 It takes place at some country ale-house, during 
 the holidays of Christmas, a season in which every 
 Cumbrian peasant refuses to be governed by the 
 cold and niggardly maxims of economy and thrift. 
 '1 hat the guests might want nothing to cheer their 
 hearts, the landlord of the house is careful to re- 
 plenish his cellar with ale and spirits, as well as 
 to provide bread and cheese, pipes and tobacco, 
 cards and music. 
 
 The young women, who arc particularly fond 
 of these diversions, and who are introduced to 
 them by some friend, relation, or lover, have pies 
 placed before them, and that girl must be modest 
 indeed who refuses to taste of a luxury when it is 
 within her reacli. The company is divided into 
 diftereut parties, according to their difi'erent pro- 
 pensities, and to the different amusements to wliich 
 they are attached. — They whose ruling passion is 
 card-playing, seat themselves in some apartment 
 where they can obtain a comfortable hre and a
 
 186 
 
 commodious table. — The au-eethearters retire to 
 some smie, sequestered corner, where, useen by 
 any licentious eye, and unheard by any idle ear, 
 they can breath the vows and speak the soft lan- 
 guage of love. They who are fond of dancing, 
 enjoy their diversion in tlie house-loft, to which 
 they ascend by means of stone steps or a ladder. 
 Its walls are generally very low ; but, as there is 
 no ceiling, a very tall person may stand erect 
 under its roof. The dancers exhibit specimens 
 of agility, rather than of skill ; and though their 
 heads have often 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 the fiddle ; and, if it be 
 not so powerful as the minstrelsy of old times, 
 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 ofa Cumbrian clown. 
 
 They who love flowing bumpers seat themselves 
 in the kitchen, or bower, where 
 
 " The dry divan 
 
 ♦' Close in firm circle ; and set, ardent, iu 
 " For serious drinking." 
 
 TH DM SO jr. 
 
 These are the jovial and legitimate sons of Bac- 
 chus, who know no other pleasures of life than 
 that which is supplied by the bottle. lie who
 
 187 
 
 wastes life in an ambitious pursuit of power or 
 distiction, and the sordid wretch who starves 
 amidst accumulated treasures, are alike the objects 
 of his contempt and satire. 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 companions 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 32. — How monie a scivore this angry 
 neet. — The comforts that are found in a cottage 
 often more than counterbalance the toils and hard- 
 ships attending a life of poverty. Happy in the 
 society of his wife and family, blest with a healthy 
 and vigorous constitution, industrious, temperate 
 
 d innocent, what is there in the nature of things 
 that can improve his condition ? — When he be- 
 comes dissatisfied, it is when he suffers his thoughts 
 and imaginations to roam among scenes of grandeur 
 • — among luxuries and expensive pleasures — a^ 
 mong the pompous pursuits and amusements of 
 the great — all of which are but so many different 
 modifications of splendid misery. 
 
 NOTE 33.— TuY/s Bob and Jock, 8^c.— The 
 convivial meeting celebrated in this ballad, may 
 vie, in many respects, with the most distinguished
 
 188 
 
 sumposinms of Greece and Rome. Had old 
 Anacreon composed one oi' the party, with what 
 rapture would he have surveyed the capacious 
 vessel that contained a pool of liquor, of superior 
 quality to the famed nectar of the gotls ! — With 
 what animation would he have shaken his hoary 
 locks ! What a glow would all his features have 
 received from the spirituous fluid ! And with 
 what vigour would he have struck his lyre in its 
 praise ! 
 
 The party here alluded to were our author and 
 a few jovial friends. Archv, to whose comfortable 
 cabin they were invited, is a well-known, indus- 
 trious, and respectable tradesman — the scourge 
 of pretenders, but the friend of humble merit ; a 
 man who possesses the endearing qualities, bene- 
 volence of heart, and cheerfulness of disposition. 
 
 " By nature forin'd in her most sportive mood," 
 He is one of the few who can put Care to the rout, 
 make his friends happy, and keep the table in a 
 roar, 
 
 R. A. 
 
 NOTE 34.— .4( Imnt, Utirk, marhpt, &;c.— \ 
 beautiful country girl makes a swain feel the force 
 of her charms wherever she beholds him : even 
 "Sunday shines no sabbath -day to him." At 
 his verydevotion she point^s against him the artillery 
 other eye. Inshoit, she attacks him incvery piacr, 
 and, what is still moie cruel, when she hai sub-
 
 i8d 
 
 dued his heart, often plays with his passion, 
 refusing her hand to the man whose affections she 
 has gained. She ought, however, to observe, 
 that a conqueror's glory is his lenity, and that her 
 behaviour to her captives ought to be humane, if 
 not generous ; and not like that of a heathen victor, 
 who dragged them at the wheels of his triumphant 
 chariot. 
 
 NOTE 35. — But as/or Jwohnie, &ic. — In every 
 Cumbrian village there is generally a rustic poli- 
 tician, who has established his political reputation 
 among his countrymen 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 paragiaph, reviews every 
 transaction , points out 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 break- 
 fast upon roast-beef and plum-pudding, instead, 
 of cowd-luord and oat-meal pottage. 
 
 NOTE 36. — The Schuilmaister''s a conjuror, 
 S;c. — Few occupations are attended with more 
 labour and less profit than that of a country school- 
 master. In Cumberland his income seldom 
 exceeds thirty pounds a-year, forwhich he teaches 
 forty or fifty scholars, during nine or ten hours
 
 190 
 
 of the day. If he be a sin^'le man, his stipenJ, 
 with rigid economy, may be equal to his support; 
 but if he be married, and have a family, his dis- 
 tresses must be great indeed ! In some parts of 
 Cumberland his situation is somewhat improved ; 
 for he not only receives quarter-pence, but is 
 provided with victuals at the homes of his scholars, 
 which he visits in succession. This whittle-gait 
 (as it is called) subjects him however to the toll 
 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 during the winter season ; but 
 what difficulties cannot a rustic pedagogue, with 
 a keen appetite and a vigorous constitution, over- 
 come in pursuit of a dinner ! — Provided with an 
 oaken staff, a pair of clogs, and a kelt surtout, he 
 travels always with spirit and expedition to his 
 kail and crowdy, unintiniidated by the length of 
 the road, or the tempestuousness of the weather. 
 
 NOTE 37. — Our parson says ice banged them 
 still. — Nothing tends more to inspire valour than 
 a knowledge of the achievements 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 countrv, 
 should therefore form an important part in the 
 system of education. It will be the means of 
 making us better patriots and better men ; for he
 
 191 
 
 must be lost to every honourable feeling, whose 
 loyalty and patriotism do not kindle at the names 
 of a Falkland and a Montrose. 
 
 NOTE 38. — The witch wejjfe begg'd in our 
 bachseyde. — In Cumberland, the vord backaide 
 implies that space ofground which lies immediately 
 behind the house ; — but, in its common accepta- 
 tion, it conveys an idea less refined, and is 
 particularly apt, in the mouth of a rustic, to 
 wound the delicate ear of a fine lady, unacquainted 
 with its provincial signification. 
 
 " A plain Cumberland farmer, being called to 
 London on some law-business, took the opportu- 
 nity to visit his landlord, whose residence was in 
 Spring-Garden ; but not finding him at home, he 
 entered into a chat with his daughter, a fashionable 
 fine lady, who very civilly shewed him all the 
 house, and was highly diverted with his remarks 
 on every thing he saw. In the course of his sur- 
 vey 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 leeiin surs, Miss ! 
 what a muckle backside yuu hue gotten ! It cannot 
 seerly be aw your awn V i. e. Wonderful, Miss ! 
 what a spacious backside you have gotten ! It 
 cannot surely be all your own? To thh plain 
 question a blush was the only answer which the 
 lady returned."
 
 192 
 
 NOTE ^9.—Aitld Grizzu, the uitch, S^c— 
 Such of the Cumbrian peasantry, whose ideas 
 have not been enlarged by education, have a 
 firm belief in witchcraft and necromancy ; and 
 discover, rn the person of every deformed old 
 woman, a witch and a magician, whose favour 
 they are anxious to conciliate, and whose ven- 
 geance they are solicitous to avert. If poor 
 Hodge fall from his cart, and dislocate his neck; 
 if he be wildered on some dreary moor ; if some 
 contagious disease destroy his cattle, or some 
 pestilential sickness afflict his family ; in short, 
 all the calamities and misfortunes that visit hira 
 or his neighbours, are imputed to her infernal 
 incantations. 
 
 NOTE 40. — IV h ex ir a s't that hrak onr lanlwnrd 
 garth ? — To pillage a garden or an orchard is 
 generally considered as a venial fault in a school- 
 boy, and even praise is bestowed on the spirit 
 with which the enterprise is extcuted. But cer- 
 tainly every tsndency to vice cannot be too soon 
 corrected, as a disposition to virtue cannot be too 
 soon formed. 
 
 NOTE 41. — Mu Guordie's uhntsle ueel I hen. 
 — 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
 
 193 
 
 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 42. — I mind what, &;c. — The pleasures 
 which the aged enjoy are mostly supplied by 
 memory. Amidst their increasing infirmities, they 
 dwell with pecuUar delight on the days of their 
 youth, — on those happy hours when every object 
 seemed gilded in the brightest colours, — when the 
 heart was light, and all around them joy and fes- 
 tivity. They are fond of recounting their juvenile 
 frolics, exploits, and adventures ; and, when they 
 are the narrators of their own actions, a partiality 
 for the subject generally leads to a minuteness of 
 detail that would weary every ear, except that of 
 
 rrulousold age. 
 
 NOTE 43. — Come, gi'es thy hand, Gahey ! — • 
 Modern friendships are for the most part rather 
 nominal than real ; they profess much, but mean 
 aothing. Their language never comes from the 
 heart. It is formal and ceremonious, breaks out 
 n fulsome compliments andextravagant panegyric , 
 md applies nearly the same set of phrases to the 
 genius and to the dunce, to the wise and the foolish, 
 ;o the virtuous, to the vicious 
 
 NOTE U.—Our Ellek likes fat bacon xveel.— 
 There is nothing fastidious in the appetite of a 
 
 N
 
 194 NOTES. 
 
 Cumbrian rustic. Ills repast at noon generally 
 consists of a croudii, a con'd-luord, and a piece 
 of bacon. If the bacon be boiled, he tups the 
 broth ; if fried, he pours the melted fat among his 
 potatoes. — A coicd-luord is a cant name for a kind 
 of pudding composed of oatmeal, tallow, suet 
 and hog's-lard, which, to a rustic palate, 13 
 always a luxurious dish. A croudu is composed 
 of oatmeal and the marrow of beef or mutton bones, 
 and is the introductory dish that takes oft' some- 
 thing from the keenness of a ploughman's appetite 
 
 \Vhen potatoes solely constitute the dinner, the 
 mess is more than usually large. After boiling 
 some time, they are beaten and mashed by a club- 
 headed wooden instrument, called a tatoe-ckppper 
 and the whole mass placed upon a platter. I : 
 the centre of this fuming pile is a ca\ity filled wit; 
 melted butter, or the fat of bacon, into whirl 
 every one at table merges bis spoon or knife loaden 
 with potatoes. 
 
 The breakfast and supper generally consist 01 
 thick pottage, a kind of food made of oatmeal anc 
 water, and boiled till it becomes a viscous mass 
 The general bread of the peasantry is composed c 
 barley fermented with dough, and baked in ar 
 oven. In the parts bordenng on Scotland a sor; 
 of barley- ajid oat -cakes, cdLlkd scorn andbannocks 
 are used.
 
 195 
 
 NOTE 45.— 0, IVulbj! had Um nohhct been 
 at Burgh Races. ' — Some village'^ in Cumberiand 
 have their annual horse races. The prize is com- 
 monly a saddle or a bridle, and the horses that 
 run for it are the property of the neigiibourin<: 
 lairds and farmers, and, without any previous 
 discipline, are brought from the plough or cart 
 to the course. 
 
 When the race is finished, the country lads 
 proceed with their sweethearts to the village ale- 
 house, where they dance, sing, and drink, and 
 talk over the adventures of the day. 
 
 The races celebrated in this ballad took place 
 on the 3rd of May, 1804, at Brough, or JBurgh, 
 a village in the neighbourhood of Carlisle, where 
 our warlike Edward died on an expedition that 
 was to decide the fate of Scotland. The prize was 
 a silver cup, given by Lord Lowther, which, 
 besides its intrinsic value, £50, conferred an 
 honour on the v/inner, equal at least to the gar- 
 land of wild olive worn by the victors at the 
 Olympic games. 
 
 NOTE 46. — There u'as, ' How fens te, TommuV 
 &:c. — When an honest Cumbrian rustic meel.i an 
 acquaintance, headdresses himself to him by tije 
 warm luterrogatorv, ' How J'evs teV i.e. liow 
 fares it with you in respect to health? If tire 
 person to whom the quslion is addressed I'e iu a
 
 196 
 
 good state of health, the reply is, ' I's gaily;' 
 i. e. I am in good health and spirits. 
 
 KOTE 47. — 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 courage- 
 ous rural dame takes an active part in the battle, 
 and brings succour to her fainting lover by di- 
 recting, with the vigour of an amazon, a few 
 desperate blows against the nose of his antagonist. 
 
 NOTE 48. — I peep'd through the loindow, &c. 
 — The windows of many farm-houses in Cumber- 
 land are without shutters, and some of them 
 without curtains ; — so during a winter night, while 
 the fire is cheerfully blazing, the whole family, 
 and every paitof the kitchen and furniture, are 
 revealed to the siglit of every idle eves-dropper. 
 The honest sweetheart, however, when he pays 
 his nocturnal visit to his ditlcinea, peeps through 
 the glass with no other view than of gratifying 
 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 49.— P^^r Dinah Dufton, &c.— It 
 must be an insensible heart that does not feel for 
 the fate of those unfortunate females who have 
 been seduced from the paths of virtue and inno-
 
 19- 
 
 cence, 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 
 images of felicity,) with complaint, disease, and 
 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 50. — Says Ned, says he, the thimmel 
 gVe me. — A village swain endeavours to ingratiate 
 himself into the favour of his sweetheart by making 
 her such presents as are within the reach of his 
 humble circumstances, such as handkerchiefs, 
 ribbons, gloves, thimbles, beads, Sec. — In all 
 ranks of life, the cold virtue of savingness gives 
 way to the warmth of love. 
 
 NOTE 51. — There was ill gusty Jemmy, the 
 Cocker o' Codbeck. — A cocker is a character that a 
 humane mindwill always 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 feeble, and barren of ideas. 
 When we see the profligate and squalid crowds 
 that attend a country cock-fight, we cannot but 
 feel for the honour of human nature, and regret 
 that a practice, which has such a direct tendency 
 to brutalize the heart, should be sufiered to prevail
 
 158 
 
 io a rountiy which can bonst of the mildest 
 government ar.d the purest ri'ligion. 
 
 XO IK 52. — But cannu auld Citmmerlan, &c. 
 — The traveller, •whose object is amusement, and 
 not the ncqui--ition of money, may gratify his pas- 
 sion bv a t'Hjr throusjh Cumberland. Scenes of 
 picteresque beauty will ever}- -where present them- 
 selves to his eye. Keswick, where mountains, 
 rocks, precipices, and cataracts are contrasted 
 with peaceful vales and j)!acid lakes, has been 
 justly called *' The Elv^ium of the A'orth ;" for 
 if e'ysium is to be found upon earth, it must surely 
 J)e in that happv vale, which Z^atuie has so 
 peculiarly distinguished by her bounties, and 
 surroundedwith such rich andmagnificentscenery, 
 f nd where may be found a race of men leading 
 hoppy and peaceful lives, strangers to the follies 
 and una^itated by the passions that fill the rest of 
 the world with crimes and niisery. 
 
 yOTY. 53.— We're C,)r/>y, &c.— Corby Casths 
 bv fir the most delightful situation in Cumberland 
 (perhaps in the JNorth.) stands on the banks of 
 i.den, fov.r miles from Carlisle. Its hanging 
 woods of various hues, hoarse murmuring streams, 
 stupendous rocks, echoing cells, and extensive 
 walks, have so often i een the traveller's theme, 
 tUat any attempt at minute description might justly 
 La deemed vanity in our author.
 
 199 
 
 The present Owner, Henry Howard, Esq. 
 has long been adding beauties to a place, where 
 Nature seems to say, 
 
 Behold rae, man, in all my wild attire! 
 
 And while he, froni every manly, patnotic, and 
 virtuous principle, enjoys the confidence of the 
 highiist circles, his amiable lady is the idol of the 
 tenantry and neighbouring villagers ; 
 
 Softenlnn; the paiiffs of sickness, want, and sorrow. 
 
 While thoiisan'is ruin seek in lewd exress. 
 
 And rob the wretoiied, Heav'u lias plac'd beneath thera. 
 
 R. A. 
 
 NOTE 54. — Kin like thee cud fdn^ the gave- 
 Uck. — The brawny rustics of Cumberland are fond 
 of athltitic exercises. They sometimes make a trial 
 of their strength by pitching the gavelick, or lever, 
 and sometimes by lifting huge stones, almost equal 
 in size and weight to that with which the mighty 
 Hector forced the Grecian fortifications : — 
 
 "A pond'rons stone bold Hector heav'd to throw. 
 " Pointed above, and ronjih and gross below ; 
 " Not two strong men th' enornions weight could raise, 
 " iSuch men as live in these dejjen'rate days " 
 
 ILIAD. 
 
 XOTR 55. — TliPn, Job, I mind at vour kurn- 
 siipi>er. — When a Cum'srian farmer has culdowa
 
 200 NOTES. 
 
 his corn, he makes an entertainment, to which 
 he invites the reapers and a few of his neighbours. 
 This entertainment is called a hum or churn ; 
 because a quantity of cream, slightly churned, 
 was originally the only dish which constituted it. 
 In the progress of modern luxury, other dishes 
 have been added to this rural feast, and a rustic 
 epicure may now riot amidst a profusion of pies, 
 plum-puddings, and duraplins. 
 
 NOTE 56. — And Jeff, uhen met at Cursmas 
 cairdins. — In Cumberland, a succession of diver- 
 sions, feasts, and merriments, distinguishes the 
 hollidays of Christmas. Of the different festive 
 meetings which take place at that season, card- 
 playing constitutes a considerable portion of the 
 amusement ; and the cottage that can supply a 
 stool, ashes-board, and a rush-light, has sufficient 
 accommodations for a rustic card-player. 
 
 NOTE 57. — ril hev a vouvg ireufe suin ! — 
 A man, with his bosom inflamed with love, while 
 his head is crov.ned witii the hoar of age, exhibits 
 as strange a phenomenon as the mountain that 
 contains fire in its bowels, while its summit is 
 crowned with snow ; and when he leads a young 
 woman to the altar, he is always subject to tlie 
 ridicule of the world. But if it be true, what 
 the author of " The Valetudinarian's Bath (Juidi. 
 advances, that the breath of young girls has a 
 salubrious effect on the constitution of old men,
 
 201 
 
 his marriage, at so late a period of life, ought to 
 be rather adduced as an instance of mature wis- 
 dom than of doating folly. 
 
 NOTE 58. — A wee swope guid yell is a peer 
 body's comfort. — A poor man's comforts and 
 amusements are confined within narrow limits ; 
 but, as narrow as they are, there are those who 
 vvould wish to contract them. They would not 
 only take from him his dance and merry night, 
 but also his pot of ale at the village ale-houses 
 where, after the labour of the day, he sometimes 
 relaxes himself among companions of similar 
 manners, pursuits, and habits of life ; and an 
 indulgence certainly innocent, provided it be not 
 carried to an excess ruinous to himself and family. 
 His life is a life of labour, and often of distress. 
 If he sometimes steal from care and toil to the 
 place " where nut-brown draughts inspire," who 
 can blame him ? 
 
 NOTE 59. — The dangerous yell-house kills 
 moiiie brave J'eliou-s. — Moderate cups administei' 
 comfort to the heart, open its springs, and keep 
 up the spirit of social intercourse ; but numerous 
 are the evils which flow from intemperate drinking. 
 How many promising youths, who, by their talents 
 and genius, were capable of sustaining the dignity 
 of the human character, has this baleful habit sunk 
 into insignificance and contempt, or hurried to 
 an untimely grave ! How many bosoms, formed for
 
 202 
 
 virtue and happiness, has it filled with guilt and 
 misery ! 
 
 In the time of Kiner Edgar, the vice of drunk- 
 enne'^s ?o much prevailed, that he endeavoured 
 to check it by limiting the number of ale-honsps, 
 and ordering nails or pins to be fixed, at stated 
 distances, in the drinking cups and horns, by 
 which marks the drinkers were to regulate their 
 (lraught«, or suffer punishment What ofTect 
 these regulations produced at that time I do not 
 know; but I'm afraid that pins and penalties 
 would be feeble barriers against the vigourous 
 draughts of a modern toper. 
 
 NOTE 69. — ir^ u-ent oicre to Dearie* cluu- 
 (hiuhin. — In the eastern and northern parts of 
 Cumberland, the walls of houses are in general 
 composed of clay, and in their erection take sel- 
 dom more than the spaceof adav. When a young 
 ru^itic marries, the highest ambition of his heart 
 is tobe thema'^terof an humble clay-built cottaee, 
 that might afford shelter to him and his family. 
 As soon as he has selected a proper site, which 
 usually bord'rs on some moor that afford- turf and 
 peat for fuel, he signifies hi=; intentions to his 
 neighbours, who. on the appointed dav, punctu- 
 ally muster on the spot where the intended building 
 i<; to be raised, each individual bringing a spade 
 and one day's provisions alon^ with him.
 
 203 
 
 That everv tiling might be done in order, and 
 without confusion, a particular piece of work is 
 assigned to each labourer. Some dig the clay, 
 some fetch it in wheelbarrows, some water it and 
 niix it with straw, and some heave it upon the 
 walls. The rustic girls, (a great many of whom 
 attend on the occasion,) fetch the water, with 
 which the clay is softened, from some neighbouring 
 ditch or pond. When the walls are raised to their 
 proper h^.-ight, the company have plenty to eat 
 and to drink ; after which the lads and the lasses, 
 with faces incrusted with clay and dirt, take a 
 dance upon the clay floor of the newly-erected 
 cottage. 
 
 XOTE 61. — See deame if icch'e got a sn-ope 
 ichitskii. — Whisky, diluted with water, is the 
 common beverage of the rustic inhabitants of the 
 north of Cumberland ; and though their rum bottle 
 mav sometimes be exhausted, they seldom fail to be 
 pretty well stocked, (notwithstanding the vigilance 
 of the exciseman) with contraband whisky. 
 
 NOTE 62. — r t/i' kiirk-garth the dark caw'd 
 his seale. — " The kurk-garth, or church-yard, on 
 a Sunday morning, (observes an ingenious friend) 
 is to the country people of Cumberland what the 
 Exchange is to the merchants of London, and 
 answers all the purposes of business or amuse- 
 ment, from whence general information is to be 
 sent round the parish.
 
 204 
 
 "The kiirk-fuoke, or congregation, therefore, 
 usually stop about the church-door, after the ser- 
 vice is done, to hear these notices which are mostly 
 given by the parish clerk, elevated upon a thruff', 
 or flat tomb-stone, sometimes from a written paper, 
 and sometimes taken verbally from the mouth 
 ofthe party concerned. This latter mode, in the 
 tone and dialect of an old formal psalm-singer, 
 produces often a very curious efiect, as is exem- 
 plified in the following notice, actually delivered 
 a few years ago at the door of Stanwix church, 
 near Carlisle : — 
 
 Clerk. — Hoa-a-z-yes! — Thisistogivenwotice, 
 that there is to be, on Wednesday neist, at — 
 (When?) 
 
 Man. — Twelve. 
 
 Clerk- — Twelve of the Clock precisely — 
 (Whar?; 
 
 Man. — Linstock. 
 
 Clerk. — At Linstock, near Rickerby, a sale of 
 —(What?) 
 
 Man. — Esh for car-stangs. 
 
 Ci-ERK. — A sale of esh-wood — for car-jtangs; 
 and if any body wants to ken aught mair about 
 it, they mun apply to — (Wheay ?) 
 
 JNIax, — Thomas Dobson.
 
 205 
 
 Ci.ERK. — Thomas Dobson, Cleik of Stanwix ; 
 that is, Mister. — (Any thing mair ?) 
 
 Man. — Xay, that's aw. 
 
 Clerk. — Wa' then, God save the King ! — 
 (How fend ye, Mister Ritsonl how fend ye 1) 
 
 "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 ihiiddiCtoi "The New Inn," hy Ben Johnson." 
 
 NOTE 63. — The lads riihh'd her down icV pez 
 strae. — A Cumbrian girl, when her lover proves 
 unfaithful to her, is, by way of consolation, rub- 
 bed 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. 
 
 EXT) OF THE NOTES.
 
 GLOSSARY 
 
 A 
 
 Abed, in bed 
 Abuin, above 
 Ae, one 
 
 Advisin, advising 
 Afv.ore. before 
 A-fit, oa foot, 
 Agean, against 
 Ahint, behind 
 A-horse, on horseback 
 Ail, to be indisposed 
 Aiklon, a village near 
 
 Wigton 
 Ajy, awry 
 Alang, along 
 Allyblaster, allabaster 
 Amang, among 
 AiTibrie, pantry 
 Anent, opposite 
 Anunder't, under it 
 An udder, another 
 Aroun, around 
 Ass-buird, ashes-board; 
 
 a box in which ashes 
 
 are carried 
 
 At, contraction of that 
 Atomy, Skeleton 
 Atvveen, between 
 Auld, old 
 Auntv, aunt 
 Aw, all 
 Av.n, own 
 Ax, to ask 
 
 Aylexpression of wonder 
 Ayont, beyond 
 
 B 
 
 'Bacco, tobacco 
 Bairns, children 
 Landylan, a female of 
 
 bad character 
 Bang, to beat ; an action 
 
 of haste, as, " he com 
 
 in wi' a bang" 
 Baith, both 
 Bane, bone 
 Bailies, bailiflPs 
 Bannocks, bread made 
 
 of oatmeal, thicker 
 
 than common cakes
 
 GI.OSS.ARY, 
 
 207 
 
 Backseyde, the yard be- 
 hind a house 
 Bushfu', basht'ul 
 Baiter, dirt 
 Bawk, a cross beam 
 Behint, behind 
 Bein, being 
 Bet, a wager ; beat 
 Bettermer, better 
 Beyde, to endure, to 
 
 stay 
 Belder, bellow, voci- 
 ferate 
 
 Belsh, to emit wind 
 from the stomach 
 
 Biggin, building 
 
 Bit, a small piece 
 
 Billy, brother 
 
 Bizen, (see shem) 
 
 Bleaken'd, blacken'd 
 
 Blate, bashful 
 
 Bleer-e'ed, blear-ey'd 
 
 Bleets, blights 
 
 Bleckell, blackwell, a 
 village near Carlisle 
 
 Blin, blind 
 
 Bluid, blood 
 
 Eluim, bloom 
 
 Blaw, blow 
 
 Blusteration, the noise 
 of a brak'tart 
 
 Boggle, hobgoblin 
 Bout, a turn ; action 
 Bodder, bother 
 Bowt, bought 
 Bonnie, pretty 
 Bow-hough'd, having 
 
 crooked houghs 
 Brack, broke. 
 Brag, boast 
 Braid, broad 
 Bran new, quite new 
 Brat, a coarse apron 
 Bray, to beat 
 Bravely, in a good state 
 of health 
 
 Breer, brier 
 
 breet, bright 
 
 Brees'd, bruis'd 
 
 Breeks, Breeches 
 
 Breyde, bride 
 
 Brig, bridge 
 
 Brong, brought 
 
 Brunt, burnt 
 
 Brulliment, broil 
 
 Brast, burst 
 
 Buin, above 
 
 Buits, boots 
 
 Bumm'd, struck, beat 
 
 Bunc'd, an action of 
 haste, as, " he bunc'd 
 in amane: ui"
 
 208 
 
 Buck up, to subscribe 
 
 Butter-shag, a slice of 
 bread spread with but- 
 ter 
 
 Butter-sops, wheat or 
 oaten bread, soaked 
 in melted butter and 
 sugar 
 
 Bworn, born 
 
 Bwor'd, bor'd 
 
 Bygeane, bygone ; past 
 
 Byre, cow-house 
 
 Cabbish, cabbage 
 CafF, chafF 
 Cairds, cards 
 Carel, Carlisle 
 Canny, decent looking, 
 
 well-made 
 Capper, one who excels 
 Car, cart 
 Carras,ashade, orcart- 
 
 hou>e, wherein carts 
 
 are kept 
 Cat-wilted, silly and 
 
 conceited 
 Ceyder, cider 
 Chap, a general term 
 
 for man, used either 
 
 in a manner of respect 
 
 or contempt 
 
 Chawk, chalk 
 
 Cheyde, chide 
 
 Chiel, a young fellow 
 
 Chiraley, chimney 
 
 Chops, mouth 
 
 Claes, clothes 
 
 Clashes, tale-bearers 
 
 CI arty, miry 
 
 Claver, to climb 
 
 Clogs, asortofshoes, the 
 upper part of strong 
 hide leather, and the 
 soles of birch or alder, 
 plaited with iron 
 
 Cleed, to clothe 
 
 Cleek, to catch as with 
 a hook 
 
 Click-clack, the noise 
 that the pendulum of 
 a clock makes in its 
 vibrations 
 
 Clink, a blow 
 
 Clipt dinment, a thi:i 
 mean-looking fellow 
 
 Clipt and heel'd, pro- 
 perly dressed, like a 
 cock prepared to fight 
 
 C liver, clever 
 
 Cluff, a blow 
 
 Co', come or came
 
 209 
 
 Cockin, cock-fighting 
 Cocker, a feeder or 
 
 fighter of cocks 
 Com, came 
 Corp, corps 
 Cow'd-lord, a pudding 
 made of oatmeal and 
 suet 
 Cowp, to exchange 
 Covvt, colt 
 
 Crack, to chat, to chal- 
 lenge, to boast, or do 
 any thing quickly, as, 
 •' I's dui't in a crack" 
 Crackets, crickets 
 Crammel, to perform 
 any thing awkwardly 
 Crap, crept 
 Creyke, creek 
 Cronie, an old acquain- 
 tance 
 Croft, a field behind the 
 
 house 
 C rouse, lofty, haughty 
 Cruds, curds 
 Cruin, to bellow, to 
 
 hum a tune 
 Cud, could 
 CudvWulson,Cuthbert 
 
 Ullson 
 Cuil, cool 
 
 Cummerlan, Cumber- 
 land 
 Cunn'd counted 
 Curleypow, curled head 
 Cursinin, christening 
 Cursty, Christopher 
 Cursmas, Christmas 
 Curtchey'd, curtsey 'd 
 Cutty, short 
 Cutten, cut down 
 Cutter'd whispered 
 Cwoach, coach 
 Cwoals, coals 
 Cwoat, coat 
 Cwoley, a farmer's or 
 
 shepherd's dog 
 Cwose-house, corse- 
 house 
 
 D 
 
 Daddle, hand 
 Daft, lialf-vvise, some- 
 times wanton 
 Daggy, drizzly 
 Dander, to hobble 
 Darrak, a day's labour 
 Dapper, neatly dressed 
 Darter, active in per- 
 forming a thing 
 Dawstoner's, inhabit- 
 ants of Dalston, a
 
 210 
 
 village near Carlisle 
 
 De, do 
 
 Deame, dame 
 
 Deavie, David 
 
 Dcd, or deddy, father 
 
 De, to die 
 
 Deeins, doings 
 
 Deef, deaf 
 
 De'il bin, devil take 
 
 Deet, died ; to clean 
 
 Deeth, death 
 
 Deetin, winnowing corn 
 
 Deyl'd, mop'd, spiritless 
 
 Deyke, hedge 
 
 Diddle, to hum a tune 
 
 Dis, does 
 
 Dispert, desperate, 
 
 Dissnins, a distance in 
 horse-racing, the 
 eighth part of a mile 
 
 Divvent, do not 
 
 DofF, to undress 
 
 Don, to dress, 
 
 Don net, an ill-disposed 
 woman, 
 
 Downo, cannot, i. e. 
 when one has the 
 power, but wants the 
 will to do any thing 
 
 Dov.ter, daughter 
 
 Douse, jolly, or sonsy- 
 
 looking; according to 
 
 others, solid, grave, 
 
 and prudent 
 Dozen'd, spiritless and 
 
 impotent 
 Dub, a small collection 
 
 of stagnant water 
 Dubbler, a woodenplat- 
 
 ter 
 Dui, do 
 Duir, door 
 Duin, done 
 Dud, did 
 
 Duds, coarse clothes 
 Dunch, to strike with 
 
 the elbows 
 Dunnet, do not 
 Dung owre, knocked 
 
 over 
 
 Durdera, broil, hubbub 
 Durtment, any thing 
 
 useless 
 Dust, durdem, one of 
 
 the many provincial 
 
 names for money 
 Dwoated doted 
 
 E 
 
 Ee, eye 
 Een, eyes 
 Efter, after
 
 211 
 
 Elcy, Alice 
 Eleeben, eleven 
 Ellek, Alexander 
 En, end 
 
 Eneugh, enough 
 Eshes, ash -trees, 
 
 Fadder, father 
 Famish, famous 
 Fan, found, felt 
 Fash, trouble 
 Fares-te-weel, fares- 
 
 thee-well 
 Fau't, fault 
 Faul, farm-yard 
 Faw, fall 
 Feace, face 
 Feale, fail 
 
 Feckless, feeble, want- 
 ing effect 
 Feight, fight, 
 Fettle, order, condition 
 Feyne, fine 
 Fit, foot, fought 
 Fin, to find, to feel 
 Flacker'd, flutter'd 
 Flay, fright, to fright 
 Fleek, flitch 
 Flegmagaries, useless 
 
 fripperies of female 
 
 dress 
 
 Fluir, or fleer, floor 
 
 Flyre, lo laugh 
 
 Font, foolish 
 
 Forbye, besides 
 
 Forret, forward 
 
 Fou, full 
 
 Fowt, a fondling 
 
 Frae, from 
 
 Frase, fray 
 
 Fratch, quarrel, to 
 quarrel 
 
 Freeten'd, frightened 
 
 Freet, to grieve 
 
 Fremm'd, strange 
 
 Frostit, frosted 
 
 Frow, a worthless wo- 
 man 
 
 Fuil, fool 
 
 Furbelows, uselesssilks, 
 frills, or gauzes, of a 
 female dross 
 
 Furst, first 
 
 Fuss, bustle 
 
 Fwoal, foal 
 
 Fworc'd, forc'd 
 
 Fwolk, folk 
 
 Fvvurm, a form , a bench 
 
 Ga, to go
 
 212 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Gaen, gone 
 
 Gam, game 
 
 Gamlers, gamblers 
 
 Gammerstang, a tall 
 awkward person, of 
 bad gait 
 
 Gang, to go ; a confe- 
 derated company of 
 infamous persons 
 
 Gar, to compel 
 
 Garth, orchard or gar- 
 den 
 
 Gat, got 
 
 Gate, road or path 
 
 Gawn, going 
 
 Gayshen, a smock-fa- 
 ced, silly-looking per- 
 son 
 
 Gear, wealth, money, 
 the tackling of a cart 
 or plough 
 
 Gev, give 
 
 Git, get 
 
 Girn, grin 
 
 Girt, great 
 
 Gliff, glance 
 
 Glime, to look obli- 
 quely, squint 
 
 Glow re, 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 
 
 Goul, to weep 
 
 Grean, to groan 
 
 Graith'd dressed, ac- 
 coutered 
 
 Grandideer, grenadier 
 
 G randy, granmother 
 
 Granfadder.grandfather 
 
 Granson, grandson 
 
 Greace, grace 
 
 Greave, grave 
 
 Greymin, a thin cover- 
 ing of snow 
 
 Grousome, grim 
 
 Greype, a three-prong- 
 ed instrument for the 
 purpose of cleaning 
 cow-houses 
 
 Gulder, to speak amaz- 
 ingly loud, and with 
 a dissonant voice 
 
 Gully, a large knife 
 
 Guff, a fool 
 
 Guid, good 
 
 Gurdle, the iron on 
 which cakes are baked
 
 213 
 
 Gwoidie, George 
 
 H 
 
 Hack'd, won every 
 thing 
 
 Ha'e, have 
 
 Hale, whole 
 
 Hallan, partition wall 
 
 Hantel, large quantity 
 
 Hankitcher, handker- 
 chief 
 
 Hap, to cover 
 
 Hardleys, haidly 
 
 Hauld, hold, shelter 
 
 Havey-scavey, all in 
 confusion 
 
 Plawflin, a fool 
 
 Haw, a hall 
 
 Hawf, half 
 
 Havver, oats 
 
 Hay-bay, hubbub 
 
 Heaste, haste 
 
 Hether-fac'd, rough- 
 fac'd 
 
 Hee, high 
 
 Het, hot 
 
 Head-wark, head-ach 
 
 Helter, halter 
 
 Hed, had 
 
 Hes, has 
 
 Hev, have 
 
 Hirpled, limped 
 Hinmost, hindmost 
 Hing, hang 
 Hinney, honey 
 Hizzy, huzzy 
 Hod, hold 
 Hout ! pshaw ! 
 Hotch, shake, to shake 
 Howdey, a midwife 
 Hug, to squeeze 
 Hur, her 
 Hulk, a lazy, clumsy 
 
 fellow 
 Hursle, to raise up the 
 
 shoulders 
 Hunsup, scold; quarrel 
 
 I 
 
 P, contraction of in 
 Hk, or ilka, every 
 I's, contraction of I am 
 It '11 contract, it will 
 Ither, other 
 Indie, East Indies 
 Tver, ever 
 Jaw, mouth 
 Jant, jaunt 
 Jen, or Jenny, Jane 
 Jeybe, jibe 
 Jobby, or Jwoseph, 
 Joseph
 
 214 
 
 GLOSS.ARY. 
 
 J woke, joke 
 
 J wohn orj wohnie, John 
 
 K 
 
 Krale, broth 
 
 Kpn-gui<],the example 
 by which we are to 
 learn what is good 
 
 Keavp, to give an awk- 
 w a I (1 w a ve r i n g m ot i n 
 to the body 
 
 Kfek, to peep 
 
 Ken, to know 
 
 Kith, ac(|iiaintances 
 
 Kittle, to tickle 
 
 Knop, a large tub 
 
 Kurk, church 
 
 Kurk-garth, church- 
 yard 
 
 Kurn, churn 
 
 Kye, cows 
 
 L 
 
 Lait, to seek, 
 
 Laik, play ; to play 
 
 Laird, a farmer's eldest 
 son, or one who al- 
 ready possesses land 
 
 'ill, contraction of will 
 
 Lai, little 
 
 Larniusr, learningr 
 
 Lanlword, landlord 
 Lant, a game at cards 
 Lanters, the players at 
 
 lant 
 Lave, the rest 
 Lapstone, a sho?maker's 
 
 stone, upon which he 
 
 beats his leather 
 Latch, a wooden sneck, 
 
 lifted sometimes with 
 
 a cord, at other times 
 
 with the fiiiger 
 Lap, leapt 
 Leace, lace 
 Leady, lady 
 Leame, lame 
 Leate, late 
 Leane, alone 
 Leet, to meet with ; to 
 
 alight 
 Leetsome, lightsome 
 Ledder, to beat 
 Lee, a lie 
 Leeve, live 
 Leather-te-patch, a 
 
 plunging step in a 
 
 Cumberland dance 
 Lig, to lie 
 Leethet' lass, Lew- 
 
 thwaite's lass 
 Lissen, to listen
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 215 
 
 Lisli, active, genteel 
 
 Lonnin, a narrow lane 
 leading from one vil- 
 lage to another 
 
 Lock, a small quantitv 
 
 Loff, ofFer 
 
 Loft, the upper apart- 
 ment of a cottage 
 
 Lout, an awkwardclovv'n 
 
 Lowe, flame 
 
 Lovvse, to untie 
 
 Lowp, a leap ; 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 
 
 r>i 
 
 INIair, more 
 iNJaister, master 
 JNIaist, most 
 IMak, make ; to n^ake 
 I\Iant, to stutter 
 Maks, sorts 
 Mangrel, mongrel 
 
 INIan thysel, act with 
 
 the spirit of a man 
 Mappen, may happen 
 Marget, ^largaret 
 Marrow, equal ; of the 
 
 same sort 
 Mazle, to wander as 
 
 stupified 
 IMeade, made 
 Mess, indeed, truly 
 Meer, Mare 
 Midden, dunghill 
 Mickle, large, much 
 [Mid-thie, mid-thigh 
 iMid-neet, mid-night 
 Mittens, gloves 
 IMoiling, pining 
 
 Mowdywarp, a mole 
 
 Monie, many 
 
 Mud, might 
 
 ^luir, moor 
 
 iMuin, moon 
 
 Mun, must 
 
 Muck, dung 
 
 Murry, merry 
 
 Munnet, must not 
 
 IMudder, mother 
 
 Mworn, morn 
 
 N 
 Xae, or nee, no
 
 216 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Kaigs, horses 
 
 Jsar, near 
 
 Kattle, to strike slightly 
 
 Keef, fist 
 
 Neaine, name 
 
 Neet, night 
 
 jS'eist, next 
 
 jVe'r ak, never mind 
 
 aSeb, nose 
 
 jVew-fangled, new-fa- 
 shioned 
 
 Xeybor, neighbonr 
 
 >.'eyce, nice 
 
 ]Simmel, nimble 
 
 jSin, none 
 
 ^'it, not 
 
 !Niver, never 
 
 Gobbet, only 
 
 Nowt, cattle 
 
 IXowther, neither 
 
 jS'uik, nook 
 
 Awotish, or nwotice, 
 notice 
 
 O 
 
 Oaners, owners 
 Oddments, articles of 
 
 no great value 
 Odswinge ! a rustic oath 
 Often, often 
 Onie, any 
 
 Onset, dwelling-house 
 and out-buildings 
 
 On't, contraction of it 
 
 Or, ere 
 
 Open'd their gills, gap'd 
 wide and drank much 
 
 Ought, aught, 
 
 Owre, over 
 
 Owther, either 
 P 
 
 Paddock rud, frog 
 spawn 
 
 Pan'gd, quite full 
 
 Parfet, perfect 
 
 Pat, put 
 
 Pate, head 
 
 Paut, to walk heavily 
 
 Paw mair, stir more ; 
 thus, " the cat will 
 never paw mair," 
 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
 
 217 
 
 Plggen, a wooden dish 
 
 Pick, pitch 
 
 Pick'd the fwoal, foal'd 
 
 before the natu ral time 
 Pleugh, plough 
 Pleace, place 
 Pleanin, complaining 
 Plack, a single piece of 
 
 money 
 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 
 Pwoke, poke 
 
 R 
 
 Rattens, rats 
 
 Reape, rope 
 
 Rear, to rise ; to rally 
 
 Reed, red 
 
 Reet, right 
 
 Reek, smoke 
 
 Reyder, rider 
 Rin, run 
 
 Royster'd, vociferated 
 Roughness, plenty .store 
 Row up, to devour 
 Ruddy, ready 
 Rust, rest ; repose 
 Russlin, wrestling 
 Rwoar'd, roar'd 
 Rwose, rose 
 
 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 
 
 Sair, 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-
 
 211 
 
 brain'd, graceless fel- 
 low 
 
 Scalder'd, scalded 
 
 Scvvores, scores 
 
 Sceap'd, escaped 
 
 Scons, cakes made of 
 barley meal 
 
 ScrafHe, struggle 
 
 Schuil, school 
 
 Scotty kye, scotch cows 
 
 Scribe of a pen, line by 
 way of letter 
 
 Scrudge, squeeze 
 
 Seame, same 
 
 Seec, sick 
 
 Seape, soap 
 
 Sac, such 
 
 Seegh, sigh 
 
 Seer, sure 
 
 Sel, self 
 
 Seed, saw 
 
 Seeben, seven 
 
 Seevy, rushy 
 
 See't, 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' no^, shall not 
 
 Shearing, reaping 
 
 Shem and a bizen, a 
 shame, and besides a 
 sin ; the word bizen 
 being apparently a 
 corruption of " By a 
 sin," i. e. besides a sin 
 
 Shoon, shoas 
 
 Shot, reckoning ; freed 
 from 
 
 Shuik, shook 
 
 Sheynin, shining 
 
 Shuffle, to scrape with 
 the feet ; to evade 
 
 Shouder, shoulder 
 
 Slioul, shovel 
 
 Shottel, schedule 
 
 Shwort, short 
 
 Shw ort-keakes,richfruit 
 cakes.which the Cum- 
 brian peasants present 
 to tlieir sweethearts 
 at fairs 
 
 Sin seyne,sincethat time 
 
 Skirl'd, scream 'd 
 
 Slaes, sloes 
 
 Slape, slippery 
 
 Slink, slinge
 
 219 
 
 Slee, sly- 
 Slap, to beat 
 
 Smiddy, smitfiy 
 
 Sraaw, small 
 
 Smuik, smoke 
 
 Smutty, obscene 
 
 Smiulder, smother 
 
 Snaps, small round gin- 
 gerbread cakes 
 
 Snowrin, snoring 
 
 Sneck, latch or catch of 
 a gate or door 
 
 Snift'rin, sniffling 
 
 Sour-milk, butter-inilk 
 
 Sonsy, lucky, generous 
 
 Sowdgers, soldiers 
 
 Souse, to plunge or im- 
 merge 
 
 Spak, spoke 
 
 Speyce, spice 
 
 Splet, split 
 
 Spot, a place of service 
 
 Spwort, sport 
 
 Spunky, sparkling 
 
 Spuin, spoon 
 
 Steyle, stile 
 
 Sleek, to shut 
 
 Strack, struck, 
 
 Stule, stole 
 
 Stull, stool 
 
 Stown, stolen 
 
 Stwory, story 
 Stuid, stood 
 Strae, straw 
 Stibble, stubble 
 Stan, stand 
 Streenin, straining 
 Strappin, tall 
 Stoun, a sudden and 
 
 transient pain 
 Stoury, dusty 
 Stowter,towalkclumsily 
 Sticks, Furniture 
 Struive, strove 
 Sud, should 
 Summet, something 
 Suin, soon 
 Sumph, blockhead 
 Sworry, sorry 
 Swapp'd, exchang'd 
 Swope, a sup 
 Swat, sit down 
 Sweyne, swine 
 
 Ta'en, taken 
 Taistrel, scoundrel 
 Tane, the one 
 Tarn'd, ill-natur'd 
 Tearan, tearing; Tiiear- 
 an fellow is a rough, 
 hot-headed person,
 
 220 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 who drives every thing 
 before him, regardless 
 of danger and of con- 
 sequences 
 
 Te , thee ; to te-dui, to do 
 
 Teable, table 
 
 Teavlear, taylor 
 
 Telf, told 
 
 Teale, tale 
 
 Teaking, taking 
 
 Tease, to importune, to 
 pester 
 
 Teynev, small 
 
 Tek, take 
 
 Tem, them 
 
 Teyme, time 
 
 Teydey, neat 
 
 Teugh, tough 
 
 Teasty, tasteful 
 
 Teydins, tidings 
 
 Thar or tlmr, these 
 
 Thoum, thumb 
 
 Throssle, a thrush 
 
 Tvvorn, thorn 
 
 Thurteen, thirteen 
 
 Thowt, thought 
 
 Thick, friendly 
 
 Theek'd, thatch'd 
 
 Thrang, throng 
 
 Threap, to argue; to 
 aver 
 
 Threed, thread 
 
 Thropple, windpipe 
 
 Thie, thigh 
 
 Thimmel, thimble 
 
 Tig, to strike gently 
 
 Titty, sister 
 
 To't, to the 
 
 Tou's, thou art 
 
 Thou'll thou wilt 
 
 Toddle, to walk un- 
 stably, as children 
 
 Top, or topper, of a 
 good quality 
 
 To-mworn, to-morrow 
 
 Trippet, a small piece of 
 wood obtusely pointed 
 witli which rustics 
 amuse themselves 
 
 Trimmel, tremble 
 
 Trouncin, beating 
 
 Trig, tight 
 
 'Trinkums, useless fi- 
 nery 
 
 Tudder, the other 
 
 Tui, too 
 
 Tuik, took 
 
 Tuith-wark, tooth -ache 
 
 Tummel'd, tumbl'd 
 
 Tuppence, two-pence 
 
 Twea, or twee, two 
 
 Twonty, twenty
 
 221 
 
 U 
 
 Unket, strange, par- 
 ticular news 
 Unco, very 
 Uphod, uphold 
 
 V 
 
 Varra, very 
 
 Varmen, or varment, 
 
 vermin 
 Vaprin, vapouring 
 
 W 
 
 Wad, would 
 Waddn't, contraction 
 
 of would not 
 Wae, sorry 
 Wa, dang it ! a mode of 
 
 swearing 
 Waffler, waverer 
 Wale, choice 
 Wan, to win 
 Wanters, persons who 
 
 want wives orhusbands 
 War, worse ; were 
 Wark, work 
 War-day, ever3'^ day in 
 
 theweek except Sunday 
 Warl, world 
 Walter, water 
 Wavvr, wall 
 
 Weage, wage, 
 
 Wee, diminutive 
 
 Weyl expression of as- 
 sent ; why 
 
 Weyfe, wife 
 
 Weyte, blame 
 
 Webster, or wobster, 
 weaver 
 
 Whack, thwack 
 
 Whaker, Quaker 
 
 Whart, quart 
 
 Wheyte, quite 
 
 VVhye, a heifer 
 
 Whope, hope 
 
 Whornpeype, hornpipe 
 
 W hurry, wherry 
 
 Whist! hush: 
 
 W hinge, to weep 
 
 Wheezlin, drawing the 
 breath with difficulty 
 
 Whinin, whining 
 
 VVhitten, Whitehaven 
 
 Whore, where 
 
 Whif, a blast 
 
 Whietly, quietly 
 
 Whilk, which 
 
 Wussle, or wursle, to 
 wrestle 
 
 Whuzzin, whizzin 
 
 Whissenday, Whit- 
 Sunday
 
 222 
 
 \Vhoa], hole 
 AVliev-feac'd, smock- 
 
 fac'd 
 ■\Vi', orwid, with 
 \Vide-gob, wide-mouth 
 M'in, wind 
 "Windy, noisy 
 ^Vinnings, money won 
 Worchet, orchard 
 AVordy, worthy 
 Woiton, Orton, name 
 
 of a village 
 "Wots, oats 
 "Wran?, wrong 
 AVull,^will 
 Wulling, willing 
 Wully, or Wulliam, 
 
 William 
 Wunnet, con. will not 
 Wun, to dwell 
 
 Yad, a mare 
 Yable, able 
 Yeage, age 
 Yallow, yellow 
 Yat, a gate 
 Yek, oak 
 Yel, ale 
 Yen, one 
 Yer, your 
 Ye's, ye shall 
 Youngermer, younger 
 persons 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 MlCICN : PRIMED BY JOU.N ISMAV.

 
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