OWD PINDER.
OOwd Pinder were a rackless foo,An’ spent his days i’ spreein’;At th’ end ov every drinkin’-do,He’re sure to crack o’ deein’;“Go, sell my rags, an’ sell my shoon;Aw’s never live to trail ’em;My ballis-pipes are eawt o’ tune,An’ th’ wynt begins to fail ’em!”“Eawr Matty’s very fresh an’ yung;’Twould ony mon bewilder;Hoo’ll wed again afore it’s lung,For th’ lass is fond o’ childer;My bit o’ brass’ll fly,—yo’n see,—When th’ coffin-lid has screened me;It gwos again my pluck to dee,An’ lev her wick beheend me.”“Come, Matty, come, an’ cool my yed,Aw’m finished, to my thinkin’;”Hoo happed him nicely up, an’ said,“Thae’s brought it on wi’ drinkin’!”—“Nay, nay,” said he, “my fuddle’s done;We’re partin’ t’one fro’ t’other;So, promise me that when aw’m gwon,Thea’ll never wed another!”“Th’ owd tale,” said hoo, an’ laft her stoo,“It’s rayley past believin’;Thee think o’th’ world thea’rt goin’ to,An’ leave this world to th’ livin’;What use to me can deead folk be?Thae’s kilt thisel’ wi’ spreein’;An’ iv that’s o’ thae wants wi’ me,Get forrud wi’ thi deein’!”He scrat his yed, he rubbed his e’e,An’ then he donned his breeches;“Eawr Matty gets as fause,” said he,“As one o’ Pendle witches;Iv ever aw’m to muster wit,It mun be now or never;Aw think aw’ll try to live a bit;It wouldn’t do to lev her!”
OOwd Pinder were a rackless foo,An’ spent his days i’ spreein’;At th’ end ov every drinkin’-do,He’re sure to crack o’ deein’;“Go, sell my rags, an’ sell my shoon;Aw’s never live to trail ’em;My ballis-pipes are eawt o’ tune,An’ th’ wynt begins to fail ’em!”“Eawr Matty’s very fresh an’ yung;’Twould ony mon bewilder;Hoo’ll wed again afore it’s lung,For th’ lass is fond o’ childer;My bit o’ brass’ll fly,—yo’n see,—When th’ coffin-lid has screened me;It gwos again my pluck to dee,An’ lev her wick beheend me.”“Come, Matty, come, an’ cool my yed,Aw’m finished, to my thinkin’;”Hoo happed him nicely up, an’ said,“Thae’s brought it on wi’ drinkin’!”—“Nay, nay,” said he, “my fuddle’s done;We’re partin’ t’one fro’ t’other;So, promise me that when aw’m gwon,Thea’ll never wed another!”“Th’ owd tale,” said hoo, an’ laft her stoo,“It’s rayley past believin’;Thee think o’th’ world thea’rt goin’ to,An’ leave this world to th’ livin’;What use to me can deead folk be?Thae’s kilt thisel’ wi’ spreein’;An’ iv that’s o’ thae wants wi’ me,Get forrud wi’ thi deein’!”He scrat his yed, he rubbed his e’e,An’ then he donned his breeches;“Eawr Matty gets as fause,” said he,“As one o’ Pendle witches;Iv ever aw’m to muster wit,It mun be now or never;Aw think aw’ll try to live a bit;It wouldn’t do to lev her!”
OOwd Pinder were a rackless foo,An’ spent his days i’ spreein’;At th’ end ov every drinkin’-do,He’re sure to crack o’ deein’;“Go, sell my rags, an’ sell my shoon;Aw’s never live to trail ’em;My ballis-pipes are eawt o’ tune,An’ th’ wynt begins to fail ’em!”
O
“Eawr Matty’s very fresh an’ yung;’Twould ony mon bewilder;Hoo’ll wed again afore it’s lung,For th’ lass is fond o’ childer;My bit o’ brass’ll fly,—yo’n see,—When th’ coffin-lid has screened me;It gwos again my pluck to dee,An’ lev her wick beheend me.”
“Come, Matty, come, an’ cool my yed,Aw’m finished, to my thinkin’;”Hoo happed him nicely up, an’ said,“Thae’s brought it on wi’ drinkin’!”—“Nay, nay,” said he, “my fuddle’s done;We’re partin’ t’one fro’ t’other;So, promise me that when aw’m gwon,Thea’ll never wed another!”
“Th’ owd tale,” said hoo, an’ laft her stoo,“It’s rayley past believin’;Thee think o’th’ world thea’rt goin’ to,An’ leave this world to th’ livin’;What use to me can deead folk be?Thae’s kilt thisel’ wi’ spreein’;An’ iv that’s o’ thae wants wi’ me,Get forrud wi’ thi deein’!”
He scrat his yed, he rubbed his e’e,An’ then he donned his breeches;“Eawr Matty gets as fause,” said he,“As one o’ Pendle witches;Iv ever aw’m to muster wit,It mun be now or never;Aw think aw’ll try to live a bit;It wouldn’t do to lev her!”