Spit'tle.adj.Spiteful; disposed to spit in anger.
To Spring.v. a.To moisten; to sprinkle.
To Spry.v. n.To become chapped by cold.
Spry.adj.Nimble; active.
To Squall.v. a.To fling a stick at a cock, or other bird.SeeCOCK-SQUAILLING.
To Squitter.v. n.To Squirt.
To Squot.v. n.To bruise; to compress.v. n.To squat.
Squot.s.A. bruise, by some blow or compression; a squeeze.
Stad'dle.s.The wooden frame, or logs, &c., with stone or other support on which ricks of corn are usually placed.
Stake-Hang.s.Sometimes called only ahang. A kind of circular hedge, made of stakes, forced into the sea-shore, and standing about 6 feet above it, for the purpose of catching salmon, and other fish.
Stang.s.A long pole.
Stay'ers.s. pl.Stairs.
Steän.s.A large jar made of stone ware.
Steänin.s.A ford made with stones at the bottom of a river.
Steeple.s.Invariably means a spire.
Steert.s.A point.
Stem.s.A long round shaft, used as a handle for various tools.
Stick'le.adj. Steep, applied to hills;rapid, applied to water: asticklepath, is a steep path; asticklestream, a rapid stream.
Stick'ler.s.A person who presides at backsword or singlestick, to regulate the game; an umpire: a person who settles disputes.
Stitch.s.Ten sheaves of corn set up on end in the field after it is cut; a shock of corn.
To Stive.v. a.To close and warm.
To Stiv'er.v. n.To stand up in a wild manner like hair; to tremble.
Stodge.s.Any very thick liquid mixture.
Stonen, Stwonen.adj.Made of stone; consisting of stone.
Stom'achy.adj.Obstinate, proud; haughty.
Stook.s.A sort of stile beneath which water is discharged.
To Stoor.v. a.andv. n.To stir.
Stout.s.A gnat.
Strad.s.A piece of leather tied round the leg to defend it from thorns, &c. Apairof strads, is two such pieces of leather.
Stritch. A strickle: a piece of wood used for striking off the surplus from a corn measure.
To Strout.v. n.To strut.
Strouter.s.Any thing which projects; a strutter.
To Stud.v. n.To study.
Su'ent.adj.Even, smooth, plain.
Su'ently.adj.Evenly, smoothly, plainly.
To Sulsh.v. a.To soil; to dirty.
Sulsh.s.A spot; a stain.
Sum.s.A question in arithmetic.
Sum'min.s.(Summing) Arithmetic.
To Sum'my.v. n.To work by arithmetical rule_s._
Summer-voy.s.The yellow freckles in the face.
To Suffy, To Zuffy.v. n.To inspire deeply and quickly. Such an action occurs more particularly upon immersing the body in cold water.
Suth'ard.adv.Southward.
To Swan'kum.v. n.To walk to and fro in an idle and careless manner.
To Swell, To Zwell.v. a.To swallow.
To Sweetort.v. a.To court; to woo.
Sweetortin.s.Courtship.
Tack.s.A shelf.
Tac'ker.s.The waxed thread used by shoemaker_s._
Ta'ëty.s.A potato.
Taf'fety.adj.Dainty, nice: used chiefly in regard to food.
Tal'let.s.The upper room next the roof; used chiefly of out-houses, as a hay-tallet.
Tan.adv.Then,now an Tan; now and then.
To Tang.v. a.To tie.
Tap and Cannel.s.A spigot and faucet.
Tay'ty.s.SeeA hayty-tayty.
Tees'ty-totsy.s.The blossoms of cowslips, tied into a ball and tossed to and fro for an amusement calledteesty- tosty. It is sometimes called simply atosty.
Tee'ry.adj.Faint weak. [proofer's note: missing comma?]
Tem'tious.adj.Tempting; inviting. [Used also inWiltshire].
Thâ.pron.They.
Than.adv.Then.
Thauf.conj.Though, although.
Theäze.pron.This.
Theeäzam,Theeäzamy.pron.These.
Them, Them'my.pron.Those.
The'rence.adv.From that place.
Thereawâ, Thereaway.adv.Thereabout.
Therevor-i-sayt!interj.Therefore I say it!
Thic.pron.That. (Thilk,Chaucer.) [West of theParret,thecky.]
Tho.adv.Then.
Thornen.adj.Made of thorn; having the quality or nature of thorn.
Thorough.prep.Through.
Thread the Needle, Dird the Needle.s.A play.
"Throwing batches," cutting up and destroying ant-hills.
Tiff.s.A small draught of liquor.
To tile.v. a.To set a thing in such a situation that it may easily fall.
Til'ty.adj.Testy, soon offended.
Tim'mer.s.Timber; wood.
Tim'mern.adj.Wooden; as a timmern bowl; a wooden bowl.
Tim'mersom.adj.Fearful; needlessly uneasy.
To Tine.v. a.To shut, to close; as,tine the door; shut the door. To inclose; totine in the moor, is to divide it into several allotments. To light, to kindle; as, totine the candle, is to light the candle.
QUARLES uses this verb:
"What is my soul the better to betin'dWith holy fire?"
EmblemXII.
To Tip.v. a.To turn or raise on one side.
Tip.s.A draught of liquor. Hence the wordtipple, because the cup must betippedwhen you drink.
To Tite.v. a.To weigh.
Tite.s.Weight.The tite of a pin, the weight of a pin.
Todo'.s.A bustle; a confusion.
To Toll.v. a.To entice; to allure.
Toor.s.The toe.
Tosty.s.See TEESTY-TOSTY.
Tote.s.The whole. This word is commonly used for intensity, as thewhol tote, fromtotus, Latin.
To Tot'tle.v. n.To walk in a tottering manner, like a child.
Touse.s.A blow on some part of the head.
Towards.prep., is, in Somersetshire, invariably pronounced as a dissyllable, with the accent on the last:to-ward's. Our polite pronunciation,tordz, is clearly a corruption.
Tramp.s.A walk; a journey.To Tramp. v. n.andTramper. s.will be found inJohnson, where also this word ought to be.
To Trapes,v. n.To go to and fro in the dirt.
Trapes,s.A slattern.
Trim.v. a.To beat.
Trub'agully.s.A short dirty, ragged fellow, accustomed to perform the most menial offices.
To Truckle,v. a.andv. n.To roll.
Truckle.s.A globular or circular piece of wood or iron, placed under another body, in order to move it readily from place. ATruckle-bed, is a small bed placed upon truckles, so that it may be readily moved about.
These are the primary and the common meanings in the West, of Totruckle, v. Truckle, s.andTruckle-bed.
Tun.s.A chimney.
Tun'negar.s.A Funnel.
Turf.s. pl.Turves. Peat cut into pieces and dried for fuel.
Tur'mit.s.A turnip.
Tur'ney.s.An attorney. Turn-string,s.A string made of twisted gut, much used in spinning.SeeWORRA.
To Tus'sle.v. n.To straggle with; to contend.
Tut.s.A hassock.
Tut-work.s.Work done by the piece or contract; not work by the clay.
Tuth'er.pron.The other.
Tuth'eram. \ }pron.The others Tuth ermy. /
Tut'ty.s.A flower; a nosegay.
'Tword'n. It was not.
To Twick.v. a.To twist or jerk suddenly.
Twick.s.A sudden twist or jerk.
Twi'ly.adj.Restless; wearisome.
Twi'ripe.adj.Imperfectly ripe.
Unk'et.adj.Dreary, dismal, lonely.
To Unray'.v. a.To undress.
To Untang',v. a.To untie.
To Up.v. a.To arise.
Up'pin stock.g.A horse-block.SeeLIGHTING-STOCK.
Upsi'des.adv.On an equal or superior footing.To be upsideswith a person, is to do something which shall be equivalent to, or of greater importance or value than what has been done by such person to us.
Utch'y.pron.I. This word is not used in the Western orEastern, but only in the Southern parts of the County of Somerset.It is, manifestly, a corrupt pronunciation ofIch, orIchè, pronounced as two syllables, the Anglo-Saxon word forI.What shall utchy do?What shall I do.
I think Chaucer sometimes usesicheas a dissyllable;videhis Poemspassim.Ch'am, is I am, that is,ich am;ch'ill, is I will,ich will. See Shakespeare's King Lear, Act IV., Scene IV. What is very remarkable, and which confirms me greatly in the opinion which I here state, upon examining the first folio edition of Shakespeare, at the London Institution, I find thatchis printed, in one instance, with a mark of elision before it thus,'ch, a proof that theiinichewas sometimes dropped in a common and rapid pronunciation. In short, this mark of elision ought always so to have been printed, which would, most probably, have prevented the conjectures which have been hazarded upon the origin of the mean- of such wordschudd,chill, andcham. It is singular enough that Shakespeare has thechforicheI, andIsefor I, within the distance of a few lines in the passage above alluded to, in King Lear. But, perhaps, not more singular than that in Somersetshire may, at the present time, be heard for the pronoun I,Utchy, oriché, andIse. In the Western parts of Somersetshire, as well as in Devonshire,Iseis now used very generally for I. The Germans of the present day pronounce, I understand, theirichsometimes as it is pronounced in the West,Ise, which is the sound we give to frozen water,ice. See Miss Ham's letter, towards the conclusion of this work.
[The V is often substituted for f, asvor, for,veo, few, &c.]
Vage, Vaze.s. A voyage; but more commonly applied to the distance employed to increase the intensity of motion or action from a given point.
To Vang.v. a.To receive; to earn.
Varden.s.Farthing.
Vare.s.A species of weasel.
To Vare.v. n.To bring forth young: applied to pigs and some other animals.
Var'miut.s.A vermin.
Vaught.part.Fetched.
Vur vaught, And dear a-bought.
(i.e.) Far-fetched, and dear bought.
Vawth.s.A bank of dung or earth prepared for manure.
To Vay.v. n.To succeed; to turn out well; to go. This word is, most probably, derived fromvais, part of the French verballer, to go.
It don'tvay; it does not go on well. To Vaze.v. n.To move about a room, or a house, so as to agitate the air.
Veel'vare.s.A fieldfare.
Veel.s.A field; corn land unenclosed.
To Veel.v.To feel.
Yeel'd.part.Felt.
Vell.s.The salted stomach of a calf used for making cheese; a membrane.
Veö.adj.Few, little.
Ver'di, Ver'dit.s.Opinion.
To Ves'sy.v. n.When two or more persons read verses alternately, they are said tovessy.
Ves'ter.s.A pin or wire to point out the letters to children to read; a fescue.
Viër.s.Fire. Some of our old writers make this word of two syllables: "Fy-er."
Vin'e.v.Find.
Vine.adj.Fine.
Vin'ned.adj.Mouldy; humoursome; affected.
Vist, Vice.s.[ilong.] The Fist.
Vitious.adj.Spiteful; revengeful.
Vitten.s.See Fitten.
Vit'ty.adv.Properly, aptly.
Vlare.v. n.To burn wildly; to flare.
Vleër.s.A flea.
Vlan'nin.s.Flannel.
Vleng'd.part.Flung.
Vloth'er.s.Incoherent talk; nonsense.
Voc'ating.part.Going about from place to place in an idle manner. Fromvoco, Latin. The verb tovoc'ate, to go about from place to place in an idle manner, is also occasionally used.
Voke.s.Folk.
To Vol'ly.v. a.To follow.
Vol'lier.s.Something which follows; a follower.
Vooäth.adv.Forth; out.To goo vooäth, is to go out.
To Vooäse.v. a.To force.
Vorad.adv. adj.Forward.
Vor'n.pron.For him.
Voreright.adj.Blunt; candidly rude.
Voun. Found.
Vouse.adj.Strong, nervous, forward.
Vroäst.s.Frost.
To Vug.v. a.To strike with the elbow.
Vug.s.A thrust or blow with the elbow.
Vur.adv.Far.
Vur'der.adv.Farther.
Vurdest.adv.Farthest.
Vur'vooäth.adv.Far-forth.
Vust.adj.First.
To Wal'lup.v. a.To beat. Walnut.s.Thedoublelarge walnut. The ordinary walnuts are called French nuts_.
To Wam'mel, To Wamble.v. n.To move to and fro in an irregular and awkward manner; to move out of a regular course or motion.
Applied chiefly to mechanical operations.
War.interj.Beware! take care!War-whing! Take care of yourself.
War.v.This is used for the preterite of the verbto be, in almost all the persons, asI war, he war, we war,&c.
To Ward.v. n.To wade.
To Warnt. To Warnd.a.To warrant.
Wash-dish,s.The bird called wagtail.
To Way-zalt.v. n.[To weigh salt.] To play at the game of wayzaltin.See the next article.
Way-zaltin.s.A game, or exercise, in which two persons stand back to back, with their arms interlaced, and lift each other up alternately.
Weepy.adj.Abounding with springs; moist.
Well-apaid.adj.Appeased; satisfied.
Well-at-ease, Well-at-eased.adj.Hearty. healthy.
Wetshod.adj.Wet in the feet.
Wev'et.s.A spider'_s._web.
To Whack.v. a.To beat with violence.
Whack.s.A loud blow.
Whatsomiver.pron. Whatsoever.
Whaur.adv. Where.
To Whec'ker.v. n. To laugh in a low vulgar manner; to neigh.
Where.adv. Whether.
Wherewi'.s. Property, estate; money.
Whim.s. Home.
Whing.s. Wing.
Whipper-snapper.adj. Active, nimble, sharp.
Whipswhile.s.A short time; the time between the strokes of a whip.
Whir'ra.SeeWORRA.
Whister-twister.s. A smart blow on the side of the head.
To Whiv'er.v. n. To hover.
Whiz'bird.s. A term of reproach.
To Whop.v.a.To strike with heavy blows.
Whop.s.A heavy blow.
Who'say, or Hoosay.s. A wandering report; an observation of no weight.
Whot.adj. Hot.
Whun.adv. When.
Wi'. With ye.
Wid'ver.s. A widower.
Willy.s. A term applied to baskets of various sizes, but generally to those holding about a bushel. So called from their being made commonly ofwillow: sometimes called alsowilly-basket.
To Wim.v. a.To winnow. Wim-sheet, Wimmin-sheet.s.A sheet upon which corn is winnowed.
Wimmin-dust.s. Chaff.
Win'dor.s. A window.
Wine.s. Wind.
With'er.pron. Other.
With'erguess.adj. Different.
With'y-wine.s. The plant bindweed:convolvulus.
Witt.adj. Fit.
With'erwise.adj. Otherwise.
Wock.s. Oak.
Wocks.s.pl. The cards calledclubs; most probably from having the shape of an oak leaf:oaks.
Wont.s. A Mole.
Wont-heave,s. A mole-hill.
Wont-snap,s. A mole-trap.
Wont-wriggle,s. The sinuous path made by moles under ground.
Wood-quist.s. A wood-pigeon.
Wordle.s. World. [Transposition oflandd.]
Wor'ra.s. A small round moveable nut or pinion, with grooves in it, and having a hole in its centre, through which the end of a round stick orspillmay be thrust. Thespill and worraare attached to the common spinning-wheel, which, with those and theturn-string, form the apparatus for spinning wool, &c. Most probably this word, as well as whir'on, is used forwhir, to turn round rapidly with a noise.
Wrassly. Wrestle.
To Wride.v. n.To spread abroad; to expand.
Wriggle.s.Any narrow, sinuous hole.
Wrine.s.A mark occasioned by wringing cloth, or by folding it in an irregular manner.
Wring,s.A. Press. Acyder-wring, a cyder-press.
To Wrumple.v. a.To discompose: to rumple.
Wrumple.s.A rumple.
Wust.adj.Worst.
Yack'er.s.An acre.
Yal.s.Ale.
Yaller.adj.Yellow.
Yal'house.s.An ale-house.
Yap'ern.s.An apron.
Yarly.adj.Early.
Yarm.s.Arm.
Yarth.s.Earth.
Yel.s.An eel.
Yel-spear.s.An instrument for catching eels.
Yes.s.An earthworm.
Yezy.adj.Easy.
Yokes.s. pl.Hiccups.
Yourn.pron.Yours.
See the observations which precede the letter S, relative to the change of that letter to Z.
Za.adv.So.
Zâ.v.Say.
Zât.adj.Soft.
Za'tenfare.adj.Softish: applied to the intellect_s._
To Zam.v. a.To heat for some time over the fire, but not to boil.
Zam'zod, Zam'zodden.adj.Any thing heated for a long time time in a low heat so as to be in part spoiled, is said to be zamzodden.
Conjecture, in etymology, may be always busy. It is not improbable that this word is a compound ofsemi, Latin, half; and toseethe, to boil: so that Zamzodden will then mean, literally,half-boiled.
Zand.s.Sand.
Zandy.adj.Sandy.
Zand-tot.s.A sand-hill.
To Zee.v. a. pret.andpart. Zid, Zeed.To see.
Zeeäd.s.Seed. Zeeäd-lip.SeeSEED-LIP.
Zel.pron.Self.
Zen'vy.s.Wild mustard.
The true etymology will be seen at once insénevé, French, fromsinapi, Latin, contracted and corrupted intoZenvy, Somersetian.
Zil'ker.SeeSILKER.
Zim, Zim'd.v.Seem, seemed.
Zitch.adj.Such.
Zooäp.s.Soap.
Zog.s.Soft, boggy land; moist land.
Zog'gy.adj.Boggy; wet.
Zoon'er.adv.Rather.
To Zound, To Zoun'dy.v. n.To swoon.
To Zuf'fy.v. n.See TO SUFFY.
Zug'gers!'This is a word, like others of the same class, the precise meaning of which it is not easy to define. I dare say it is a composition of two, or more words, greatly corrupted in pronunciation.
Zull.s.The instrument used for ploughing land; a plough.
Zum.pron.Some.
Zum'met.pron.Somewhat; something.
Zunz.adv.Since.
To Zwail.v. n.To move about with the arms extended, and up and down.
To Zwang.v. n.andv. n.To swing; to move to and fro.
Zwang.s.A swing.
To Zwell.v. a.To swell; to swallow. See TO SWELL.
Zwird.s.Sword.
Zwod'der.s.A drowsy and stupid state of body or mind.
Derived, most probably, fromsudor, Latin, a sweat.
County of Somersetshire.
Notwithstanding the Author has endeavoured, in the Observations on the Dialects of the West, and in The Glossary, to obviate the difficulties under which strangers to the dialect of Somersetshire may, very possibly, labour in the perusal of the following Poems, it may be, perhaps, useful here to remind the reader, that many mere inversions of sound, and differences in pronunciation, are not noted in the Glossary. That it did not appear necessary to explain such words as_ wine,wind;zâ,say;qut,coat;bwile,boil; hoss,horse;hirches,riches; and many others, which it is presumed thecontext,theObservations,or theGlossary,will sufficiently explain. The Author, therefore, trusts, that by a careful attention to these, the reader will soon becomeau faitat the interpretation of these West-countryLIDDENS.
Good bwye ta thee Cot! whaur tha dâs o' my childhood Glaw'd bright as tha zun in a mornin o' mâ; When tha dumbledores hummin, craup out o' tha cobwâll, An' shakin ther whings, thâ vleed vooäth an' awâ. [Footnote: The humble-bee,bombilius major, ordumbledore, makes holes very commonly in mud walls, in which it deposits a kind of farina: in this bee will be found, on dissection, a considerable portion of honey, although it never deposits any.]
Good bwye ta the Cot!—on thy drashel, a-mâ-be,I niver naw moor sholl my voot again zet;Tha jessamy awver thy porch zweetly bloomin,Whauriver I goo, I sholl niver vorget.
Tha rawzes, tha lillies, that blaw in tha borders—The gilawfers, too, that I us'd ta behawld—Tha trees, wi' tha honeyzucks ranglin âll awver,I âlways sholl think o' nif I shood be awld.
Tha tutties that oten I pick'd on a zunday,And stickt in my qut—thâ war thawted za fine:Aw how sholl I tell o'm—vor âll pirty maidensWhen I pass'd 'em look'd back—ther smill rawze on tha wine.
Good bwye ta thee Ash! which my Father beforne me,A planted, wi' pleasure, tha dâ I was born;Zâ, oolt thou drap a tear when I cease to behawld thee,An wander awâ droo tha wordle vorlorn.
Good bwye ta thee Tree! an thy cawld shade in zummer;Thy apples, aw who ool be lotted ta shake?When tha wine, mangst thy boughs sifes at Milemas in sorrow,Zâ oolt thou sife for me, or one wild wish awake?
Good bwye ye dun Elves! who, on whings made o'leather,Still roun my poorch whiver an' whiver at night;Aw mâ naw hord-horted, unveelin disturber,Destrây your snug nests, an your plâ by moonlight.
Good bwye ta thee Bower!—ta thy moss an thy ivy—To tha flowers that aroun thee all blossomin graw;When I'm gwon, oolt thou grieve?—bit 'tis foolish to ax it;What is ther that's shower in this wordle belaw?
Good bwye ta thee Cot! whaur my mother za thoughtvul,As zumtimes she war droo er care vor us âll,Er lessins wi' kindness, wi' tenderness gid us;An ax'd, war she dead, what ood us bevâll.
Good bwye ta thee Cot! whaur tha nightingale's music,In tha midnight o' Mâ-time, rawze loud on the ear;Whaur tha colley awâk'd, wi' tha zun, an a zinginA went, wi' tha dirsh, in a voice vull and clear.
Good bwye ta thee Cot! I must goo ta tha city.Whaur, I'm tawld, that the smawk makes it dork at noon dâ;Bit nif it is true, I'm afeard that I âlwaysAnd iver sholl thenk on tha cot thatch'd wi' strâ.
Good bwye ta thee Cot! there is One that râins awver,An wâtches tha wordle, wi' wisdom divine;Than why shood I mang, wi' tha many, my ma-bes;Bin there's readship in Him, an to him I resign.
Good bwye ta thee Cot! shood I niver behauld theeAgain; still I thank thee vor âll that is past!Thy friendly ruf shelter'd—while mother wâtch'd awver.An haw'd vor my comfort vrom vust unto last.
Good bwye ta thee Cot; vor the time mâ be longfulBeforn I on thy drashall again zet my eye;Thy tutties ool blossom, an daver an blossomAgain and again—zaw good bwye, an good bwye!
The melancholy incident related in the following story, actually occurred a few years ago at Shapwick.
Good Gennel-vawk! an if you pleaseTo lissen to my storry,A mâ-be 'tis a jitch a one,Ool make ye zummet zorry.
'Tis not a hoozay tale of grief,A put wi' ort together,That where you cry, or where you laugh,Da matter not a veather;
Bit 'tis a tale vor sartin true,Wi' readship be it spawken;I knaw it all, begummers! well,By tale, eese, an by tawken.
The maid's right name war FANNY FEAR,A tidy body lookin;An she cood brew, and she cood bake,An dumplins bwile, and skimmer cake;An all the like o' cookin.
Upon a Zunday âternoon,Beforne the door a stanin,To zee er chubby cheaks za hird,An whitist lilies roun 'em spird,A damas rawze her han in,
Ood do your hort good; an er eyes,Dork, vull, an bright, an sporklin;Tha country lads could not goo by,Bit look thâ must—she iver shy,Ood blish—tha timid lorklin!
Her dame war to her desperd kind;She knaw'd er well dezarvin:She gid her good advice an claws,At which she niver toss'd her naws,As zum ool, thawf pon starvin.
She oten yarly upp'd to gooA milkin o' tha dairy;The meads ring'd loudly wi' er zong;Aw how she birshed the grass along,As lissom as a vairy!
She war as happy as a prince;Naw princess moor o' pleasureWhen well-at-eased cood iver veel;She ly'd her head upon her peel,An vound athin a treasure.
There war a dessent comly youth,Who took'd to her a likin;An when a don'd in zunday claws,You'd thenk en zummet I suppaws,A look'd so desperd strikin.
His vace war like a zummer dâ,When âll the birds be zingin;Smiles an good nature dimplin stood,An moor besides, an âll za good,Much pleasant promise bringin.
Now Jan war sawber, and afeardNif he in haste shood morry,That he mid long repent thereof;An zo a thwart 'twar best not, thawfTo stâ mid make en zorry.
Jan oten pâss'd the happy door,There Fanny stood a scrubbin;An Fanny hired hiz pleasant voice,An thawt—"An if she had er choice!"An veel'd athin a drubbin.
Bit Jan did'n hulder long iz thawts;Vor thorough iv'ry cranny,Hirn'd of iz Lort tha warm hird tide;An a cood na moor iz veelins bide,Bit tell 'em must to Fanny.
To Fanny, than, one Whitsun eve,A tawld er how a lov'd er;Naw dove, a zed to er cood beMoor faithvul than to her ood he;His hort had long appruv'd er.
Wi' timourous blishin, Fanny zed,"A maid mist not believe ye;Vor men ool tell ther lovin tale,And awver seely maids prevail—Bit I dwont like ta grieve ye:
Vor nif za be you now zâ true—That you've for I a fancy:(Aw Jan! I dwont veel desperd well,An what's tha câze, I cannot tell),You'll zâ na moor to Nancy."
Twar zaw begin'd their zweetortin;Booäth still liv'd in their places;Zometimes thâ met bezides tha stile;Wi' pleasant look an tender smileGaz'd in each wither's faces.
In spreng-time oten on tha napOod Jan and Fanny linger;An when war vooäs'd to zâ "good bwye,"Ood meet again, wi' draps in eye,While haup ood pwint er vinger.
Zo pass'd tha dâs—tha moons awâ,An haup still whiver'd nigh;Nif Fanny's dreams high pleasures vill,Of her Jan's thawts the lidden still,An oten too the zigh.
Bit still Jan had not got wherewi'To venter eet to morry;Alas-a-dâ! when poor vawk love,How much restraint how many pruv;How zick zum an how zorry.
Aw you who live in houzen grate,An wherewi' much possessin,You knaw not, mâ-be, care not you,What pangs jitch tender horts pursue,How grate nor how distressin.
Jan sar'd a varmer vour long years,An now iz haups da brighten:A gennelman of high degreeChoos'd en iz hunsman vor to be;His Fanny's hort da lighten!
"Now, Fan," zed he, "nif I da live,Nex zummer thee bist mine;Sir John ool gee me wauges good,Amâ-be too zum viër ood!"His Fan's dork eyes did shine.
"To haw vor thee, my Fan," a cried,"I iver sholl delight;Thawf I be poor, 'tool be my prideTo ha my Fan vor a buxom bride—My lidden dâ an night."
A took er gently in iz ormsAn kiss'd er za zweetly too;His Fan, vor jay, not a word cood speak,Bit a big roun tear rawl'd down er cheak,It zimm'd as thawf er hort ood break—She cood hordly thenk it true.
To zee our hunsman goo abroad,His houns behind en volly;His tossel'd cap—his whip's smort smack,His hoss a prancin wi' tha crack,His whissle, horn, an holler, back!Ood cure âll malancholy.
It happ'd on a dork an wintry night,Tha stormy wine a blawin;Tha houns made a naise an a dismal yell;Jitch as zum vawk zâ da death vaurtell,The cattle loud war lawin.
Tha hunsman wâkid an down a went;A thawt ta keep 'em quiet;A niver stopped izzel ta dress,Bit a went in iz shirt vor readinessA voun a dirdful riot.
Bit âll thic night a did not come back;All night tha dogs did raur;In tha mornin thâ look'd on tha kannel stwonsAn zeed 'em cover'd wi' gaur an bwons,The vlesh âll vrom 'em a taur.
His head war left—the head o' JanWho lov'd hiz Fanny za well;An a bizzy gossip, as gossips beWho've work o' ther awn bit vrom it vlee,To Fanny went ta tell.
She hirn'd, she vleed ta meet tha manWho corr'd er dear Jan's head:An when she zeed en âll blood an gaur,She drapp'd down speechless jist avaur,As thauf she had bin dead.
Poor Fanny com'd ta erzel again,Bit her senses left her vor iver!An all she zed, ba dâ or night—Vor sleep it left her eye-lids quite—War, "why did he goo in the cawld ta shiver?—Niver, O Jan! sholl I zee the, niver!"
[Footnote: See a letter by Edward Band, on this subject, in the prose pieces.]
Awa wi' âll yer tales o' grief,An dismal storry writin;
A mâ-be zumthin I mâ zingOol be as much delightin.
Zumtime agoo, bevaur tha moorsWar tin'd in, lived at MorkOne JERRY NUTTY—spry a war;A upp'd avaur the lork.
Iz vather in a little cotLiv'd, auver-right tha moor,An thaw a kipt a vlock o' geese,A war a thoughted poor.
A niver teach'd tha cris-cross-lainTa any of his bways,An Jerry, mangst the rest o'm, didNot much appruv his ways.
Vor Jerry zumtimes went ta churchTa hire tha Pâson preach,An thawt what pity that ta readIzzel a cood'n teach.
Vor than, a zunday âternoon,Tha Bible, or good bookWould be companion vit vor'm âllWho choos'd therein ta look.
Bit Jerry than tha naise o' geeseBit little moor could hire;
An dâly goose-aggs ta pick upDroo-out tha moor did tire.
A ôten look'd upon tha hillsAn stickle mountains roun,An wished izzel upon their taps:What zights a ood be bóun!
Bit what did mooäst iz fancy strickWar Glassenberry Torr:A âlways zeed it when tha zunGleam'd wi' tha mornin stor.
O' Well's grate church a ôten hired,Iz fancy war awake;An zaw a thawt that zoon a oodA journey ta it make.
An Glassenberry's Torr, an ThornThe hawly blowth of whichA hired from one and tother too;Tha like war never jitch!
Bit moor o' this I need not zâ,Vor off went Jerry Nutty,In hiz right hon a wâkin stick,An in hiz qut a tutty.
Now, lock-y-zee! in whimly dressTrudg'd chearful Jerry on;
Bit on tha moor not vur a went—A made a zudden ston.
Which wâ ta goo a cood not thenk,Vor there war many a wâ;A put upright iz walking stick;A vâll'd ta tha zon o' dâ.
Ta tha suthard than iz wâ a tookAthert tha turfy moors,An zoon o' blissom Cuzziton,[Footnote: Cossington.]A pass'd tha cottage doors.
Tha maidens o' tha cottages,Not us'd strange vawk to zee,Com'd vooäth and stood avaur tha door;Jer wonder'd what cood be.
Zum smil'd, zum whecker'd, zum o'm blish'd."Od dang it!" Jerry zed,"What do tha think that I be like?"An nodded to 'm iz head.
"Which is tha wâ to Glassenberry?I've hired tha hawly thornWar zet there by zum hawly honsZoon âter Christ war born;
An I've a mine ta zee it too,An o' tha blowth ta take.""An how can you, a seely man,Jitch seely journey make?
"What! dwont ye knaw that now aboutIt is the midst o' June?Tha hawly thorn at Kirsmas blaws—You be zix months too zoon.
Goo whim again, yea gâwky! goo!"Zaw zed a damsel vairAs dewy mornin late in Mâ;An Jerry wide did stare.
"Lord Miss!" zed he, "I niver thawt,O' Kirsmas!—while I've shoes,To goo back now I be zet out,Is what I sholl not choose.
I'll zee the Torr an hawly thorn,An Glassenberry too;An, nif you'll put me in tha wâ,I'll gee grate thanks ta you."
Goo droo thic veel an up thic lane,An take tha lift hon path,Than droo Miss Crossman's backzid strait,Ool bring ye up ta Wrath.
Now mine, whaur you do turn againAt varmer Veal's long yacker,Clooäse whaur Jan Lide, tha cobler, livesWho makes tha best o' tacker;
You mist turn short behine tha houseAn goo right droo tha shord,An than you'll pass a zummer lodge,A builded by tha lord.
Tha turnpick than is jist belaw,An Cock-hill strait avaur ye."Za Jerry doff'd his hat an bow'd,An thank'd er vor er storry.
Bit moor o' this I need not zâ,Vor off went Jerry Nutty;In his right hand a wâkin stick,An in hiz qut a tutty.
Bit I vorgot to zâ that JerA zatchel wi' en tookTo hauld zum bird an cheese ta ate;—Iz drink war o' tha brook.
Za when a got upon Cock-hillUpon a linch a zawt;The zun had climmer'd up tha sky;A voun it very hot.
An, as iz stomick war za good,A made a horty meal;An werry war wi' wâkin, zawA sleepid zoon did veel.
That blessed power o' bâmy sleep,Which auver ivery senseDa wi' wild whiverin whings extendA happy influence;
Now auver Jerry Nutty drow'dEr lissom mantle wide;An down a drapp'd in zweetest zleep,Iz zatchel by iz zide.
Not all tha nasty stouts could wâkeEn vrom iz happy zleep,Nor emmets thick, nor vlies that buz,An on iz hons da creep.
Naw dreams a had; or nif a hadMooäst pleasant dreams war thâ:O' geese an goose-aggs, ducks and jitch;Or Mally, vur awâ,
Zum gennelmen war dreavin byIn a gilded cawch za gâ;Thâ zeed en lyin down asleep;Thâ bid the cawchman stâ.
Thâ bâll'd thâ hoop'd—a niver wâk'd;Naw houzen there war handy;Zed one o'm, "Nif you like, my bways,"We'll ha a little randy!"
"Jist put en zâtly in tha cawchAn dreav en ta Bejwâter;An as we âll can't g'in wi'n here,I'll come mysel zoon âter."
Twar done at once: vor norn o'm car'dA strâ vor wine or weather;Than gently rawl'd the cawch along,As zât as any veather.
Bit Jerry snaur'd za loud, tha naiseTha gennelmen did gally;Thâ'd hâf a mind ta turn en out;A war dreamin o' his Mally!
It war the morkit dâ as rawl'dTha cawch athin Bejwâter;Thâ drauv tip ta the Crown-Inn door,Ther Mâ-game man com'd âter.
"Here Maester Wâter! Lock-y-zee!A-mâ-be you mid thenkThic mon a snauren in tha cawchIs auvercome wi' drenk.
Bit 'tis not not jitchy theng we knaw;A is a cunjerin mon,Vor on Cock-hill we vound en ly'dIz stick stif in his hon.
Iz vace war cover'd thick wi' vliesAn bloody stouts a plenty;Nif he'd o pumple voot bezide,An a brumstick vor'n to zit ascride,O' wizards a mid be thawt tha pride,Amangst a kit o' twenty."
"Lord zur! an why d'ye bring en hereTo gally âll tha people?Why zuggers! nif we frunt en than,He'll auver-dro tha steeple.
I bag ye, zur, to take en vooäth;There! how iz teeth da chatter;Lawk zur! vor Christ—look there again!A'll witchify Bejwâter!"
Tha gennelman stood by an smiledTo zee tha bussle risin:Yor zoon, droo-out tha morkit wideTha news wor gwon saprisin.
An round about tha cawch thâ dring'd—Tha countryman and townsman;An young an awld, an man an maid—Wi' now an tan, an here an there,Amang tha crowd to gape an stare,A doctor and a gownsman.
Jitch naise an bother wâkid zoonPoor hormless Jerry Nutty,A look'd astunn'd;—a cood'n speak!An daver'd war iz tutty.
A niver in his life avaur'ad been athin Bejwâter;A thawt, an if a war alive,That zummet war tha matter.
Tha houzen cling'd together zaw!Tha gennelmen an ladies!Tha blacksmith's, brazier's hammers too!An smauk whauriver trade is.
Bit how a com'd athin a cawchA war amaz'd at thenkin;A thawt, vor sartin, a must beA auvercome wi' drenkin.
Thâ ax'd en nif a'd please to g'outAn ta tha yalhouse g'in;Bit thâ zo clooäse about en dring'dA cood'n goo athin.
Ta g'under 'em or g'auver 'emA try'd booâth grate and smâll;Bit g'under, g'auver, g'in, or g'out,A cood'n than at âll.
"Lord bless ye! gennel-vawk!" zed he,I'm come to GlassenberryTo zee tha Torr an Hawly Thorn;What makes ye look za merry?"
"Why mister wizard? dwont ye knaw,Theäse town is câll'd Bejwâter!"Cried out a whipper-snapper man:Thâ all bust out in lâughter.
"I be'nt a wizard, zur!" a zed;"Bit I'm a little titch'd; [Footnote: Touched.]"Or, witherwise, you mid well thenkI'm, zure anow, bewitch'd!"
Thaw Jerry war, vor âll tha wordle,Like very zel o' quiet,A veel'd iz blood ta bwile athinAt jitchy zort o' riot;
Za out a jump'd amangst 'em âll!A made a desperd bussle;Zum hirn'd awâ—zum made a ston;Wi' zum a had a tussle.
Iz stick now sar'd 'em justice good;It war a tough groun ash;Upon ther heads a plâ'd awâ,An round about did drash.
Thâ belg'd, thâ raur'd, thâ scamper'd âll.A zoon voun rum ta stoory;A thawt a'd be reveng'd at once,Athout a judge or jury.
An, thaw a brawk navy-body's bwons,A gid zum bloody nawzes;Tha pirty maids war fainty too;Hirn'd vrom ther cheaks tha rawzes.
Thinks he, me gennelmen! when nexI goo to Glassenbery,Yea shant ha jitch a rig wi' I,Nor at my cost be merry.
Zaw, havin clear'd izzel a wâ.Right whim went Jerry Nutty;A flourished roun iz wâkin stick;An vleng'd awâ iz tutty.
[First Printed in "Graphic Illustrator, p. 124.]
I cannot do better than introduce here "A Legend of Glastonbury," made up, not from books, but from oral tradition once very prevalent in and near Glastonbury, which had formerly one of the richest Abbeys in England; the ruins are still attractive.
Who hath not hir'd o'Avalon?[Footnote: "The Isle of ancient Avelon."—Drayton.]'Twar talked o' much an long agon,—Tha wonders o' thaHoly Thorn,Tha "wich, zoon âter Christ war born,Here a planted war byArimathé,Thic Joseph that com'd auver sea,An planted Kirstianity.Thâ zâ that whun a landed vust,(Zich plazen war in God's own trust)A stuck iz staff into tha grounAn auver iz shoulder lookin roun,Whatever mid iz lot bevâll,A cried aloud "Now, weary all!"Tha staff het budded an het grew,An at Kirsmas bloom'd tha whol dâ droo.An still het blooms at Kirsmas bright,But best thâ zâ at dork midnight,A pruf o' this nif pruf you will.Iz voun in tha name o'Weary-all-hill!Let tellPumparlesor lazyBrue.That what iz tauld iz vor sartin true!
["The story of the Holy Thorn was a long time credited by the vulgar and credulous. There is a species of White Thorn which blossoms about Christmas; it is well known to naturalists so as to excite no surprise."]
The incident on which this story is founded, occurred in the early part of the last century; hence the allusion to making awillbefore making a journey to the metropolis.
Mr. Guywar a gennelmanO' Huntspill, well knawnAs a grazier, a hirch one,Wi' lons o' hiz awn.
A ôten went ta LunnunHiz cattle vor ta zill;All tha horses that a rawdNiver minded hadge or hill.
A war afeard o' naw one;A niver made hiz will,Like wither vawk, avaur a wentHis cattle vor ta zill.
One time a'd bin ta LunnunAn zawld iz cattle well;A brought awâ a power o' gawld,As I've a hired tell.
As late at night a rawd alongAll droo a unket ood,A ooman rawze vrom off tha grounAn right avaur en stood:
She look'd za pitis Mr. GuyAt once hiz hoss's paceStapt short, a wonderin how, at night,She com'd in jitch a place.
A little trunk war in her hon;She zim'd vur gwon wi' chile.She ax'd en nif a'd take her upAnd cor her a veo mile.
Mr. Guy, a man o' veelinFor a ooman in distress,Than took er up behind en:A cood'n do na less.
A corr'd er trunk avaur en,An by hiz belt o' leatherA bid er hawld vast; on thâ rawd,Athout much tâk, together.
Not vur thâ went avaur she gidA whissle loud an long;Which Mr. Guy, thawt very strange;Er voice too zim'd za strong!
She'd lost er dog, she zed; an thanAnother whissle blaw'd,That stortled Mr. Guy;—a staptHiz hoss upon tha rawd.
Goo on, zed she; bit Mr. GuyZum rig beginn'd ta fear:Vor voices rawze upon tha wine,An zim'd a comin near.
Again thâ rawd along; againShe whissled. Mr. GuyWhipt out hiz knife an cut tha belt,Then push'd er off!—Vor why?
Tha ooman he took up behine,Begummers, war aman!Tha rubbers zaw ad lâd ther plotsOur grazier to trepan.
I shall not stap ta tell what zedTha man in ooman's clawze;Bit he, and all o'm jist behine,War what you mid suppawze.
Thâ cust, thâ swaur, thâ dreaten'd too,An ater Mr. GuyThâ gallop'd all; 'twar niver-tha-near:Hiz hoss along did vly.
Auver downs, droo dales, awâ a went,'Twar dâ-light now amawst,Till at an inn a stapt, at last,Ta thenk what he'd a lost.
A lost?—why, nothin—but hiz belt!—A zummet moor ad gain'd:Thic little trunk a corr'd awâ—It gawld g'lore contain'd!
Nif Mr. Guy war hirch avaur,A now war hircher still:Tha plunder o' tha highwâmenHiz coffers went ta vill.
In sâfety Mr. Guy rawd whim;A ôten tawld tha storry.Ta meet wi' jitch a rig myzelI shood'n, soce, be zorry.
The rook,corvus frugilegus, is a bird of considerable intelligence, and is, besides, extremely useful in destroying large quantities of worms and larvæ of destructive insects. It will, it is true, if not watched, pick out, after they are dibbled, both pease and beans from the holes with a precision truly astonishing: a very moderate degree of care is, however, sufficient to prevent this evil, which is greatly overbalanced by the positive good which it effects in the destruction of insects. It is a remarkable fact, and not, perhaps, generally known, that this bird rarely roosts at the rookery, except for a few months during the period of incubation, and rearing its young. In the winter season it more commonly takes flights of no ordinary length, to roost on the trees of some remote and sequestered wood. TheElmis its favorite, on which it usually builds; but such is its attachment to locality that since the incident alluded to in the following Poem took place the Rooks have, many of them, built infirtrees at a little distance from their former habitation. The habits of the Rook are well worthy the attention of all who delight in the study of Natural History.
My zong is o' tha ROOKERY,Not jitch as I a zeedOn stunted trees wi' leaves a veo,A very veo indeed,
In thic girt place thâLunnuncâll;—Tha Tower an tha PorkHâ booäth a got a Rookery,Althaw thâ han't a Lork.
I zeng not o' jitch Rookeries,Jitch plazen, pump or banners;Bit town-berd Rooks, vor âll that, hâ,I warnt ye, curiousmanners.
My zong is o' a RookeryMy Father's cot bezide,Avaur, years âter, I war born'Twar long tha porish pride.
Tha elms look'd up like giants tâllTher branchy yarms aspread;An green plumes wavin wi' tha wine,Made gâ each lofty head.
Ta drâ tha pectur out—ther warAt distance, zid betweenTha trees, a thatch'd Form-house, an geeseA cacklin on tha green.
A river, too, clooäse by tha trees,Its stickle coose on slid,Whaur yells an trout an wither fishMid ôtentimes be zid.
Tha rooks voun this a pleasant place—A whim ther young ta rear;An I a ôten pleas'd a binTa wâtch 'em droo tha year.
'Tis on tha dâ o' ValentineOr there or thereabout,Tha rooks da vast begin ta build,An cawin, make a rout.
Bit aw! when May's a come, ta zeeTher young tha gunner's shutVor SPOORT, an bin, as zum da zâ,(Naw readship in't I put)
That nif thâ did'n shut tha, rooksThâ'd zoon desert tha trees!Wise vawk! Thic reason vor ther SPOORTGee thâ mid nif thâ please!
Still zeng I o' tha Rookery,Vor years it war tha prideOf all thâ place, bit 'twor ta IA zumthin moor bezide.
A hired tha Rooks avaur I upp'd;I hired 'em droo tha dâ;I hired ther young while gittin flushAn ginnin jist ta câ.
I hired 'em when my mother gidEr lessins kind ta I,In jitch a wâ when I war young,That I war fit ta cry.
I hired 'em at tha cottage door,When mornin, in tha spreng,Wâk'd vooäth in youth an beauty too,An birds beginn'd ta zeng.
I hired 'em in tha winter-timeWhen, roustin vur awâ,Thâ visited tha RookeryA whiverin by dâ.
My childhood, youth, and manood too,My Father's cot recâllThic Rookery. Bit I mist nowTell what it did bevâll.
'Twar Mâ-time—heavy vi' tha nestsWar laden âll tha trees;An to an fraw, wi' creekin loud,Thâ sway'd ta iv'ry breeze.
One night tha wine—a thundrin wine,Jitch as war hired o' nivor,Blaw'd two o' thic girt giant treesFlat down into tha river.
Nests, aggs, an young uns, âll awâWar zweept into tha wâterAn zaw war spwiled tha RookeryVor iver and iver âter.
I visited my Father's cot:Tha Rooks war âll a gwon;Whaur stood tha trees in lofty prideI zid there norra one.
My Father's cot war desolate;An âll look'd wild, vorlorn;Tha Ash war stunted that war zetTha dâ that I war born.
My Father, Mother, Rooks, âll gwon!My Charlotte an my Lizzy!—Tha gorden wi' tha tutties too!—Jitch thawts why be za bizzy!—
Behawld tha wâ o' human thengs!Rooks, lofty trees, an Friends—A kill'd, taur up, like leaves drap off!—Zaw feaver'd bein ends.