T'updyate afore Valentine's Dya!
Ist'thu t'shy marra in It's Nobbut Me, or doest' thu see thu'sel mer like t'Cumdivock fowk fra Dalston Parish in Sally Gray? Tek a deek ut t'twa classics fra John Richardson und Robert Anderson.
If thu ken's thut thu hez better tyales ov beuwers, mots, und t'liek thun let me kna be email, und ah'll put best tyales up in a future Features pyage.
Ahs also put nixt fower pyages ovt' Dialect fra Hundred of Lonsdale up fur thu as wh'eel.
The cairn is on the banks of the River Caldew in Dalston Parish!
Ya winter neet, I mind it weel,
Oor lads 'ed been at t' fell,
An', bein' tir't, Went seun to bed.
An' I sat be mesel.
I hard a jike on t' window pane,
An' deftly went to see;
Bit when I ax't, "Who's jiken theer?"
Says t' chap, "It's nobbut me!"
"Who's me?" says I, "What want ye here?
Oor fwok ur aw i' bed;"
"I dunnet want your fwok at aw.
It's thee I want," he sed,
"What cant'e want wi' me," says I;
"An' who, the deuce, can't be?
Just tell me who it is, an' than"
Says he, " It's nobbut me."
"I want a sweetheart, an' I thowt
Thoo mebby wad an' aw;
I'd been a bit down t' deal to-neet,
An' thowt 'at I wad caw;
What, cant'e like me, dus t'e think?
I think I wad like thee"
"I dunnet know who't is," says I,
Says he, "It's nobbut me."
We pestit on a canny while,
I thowt his voice I kent;
An' than I steall quite whisht away,
An' oot at t' dooer I went.
I creapp, an' gat 'im be t' cwoat laps,
'Twas dark, he cuddent see;
He startit roond, an' said, "Who's that?"
Says I, "It's nobbut me."
An' menny a time he com ageann,
An' menny a time I went.
An' sed, "Who's that 'at's jiken theer?"
When gaily weel I kent:
An' mainly what t' seamm answer com,
Fra back o' t' laylick tree;
He sed, "I think thoo knows who't is:
Thoo knows it's nobbut me."
It's twenty year an' mair sen than,
An' ups an' doons we've hed;
An' six fine bams hev blest us beath,
Sen Jim an' me war wed.
An' menny a time I've known 'im steal,
When I'd yan on me knee.
To mak me start, an' than wad laugh
Ha! ha! "It's nobbut me."
To the Tune: The mucking o' Geordie's lyre
Come, Deavie, I'll tell thee a secret,
But tou mun lock't up i' thee breast,
I wadden't for aw Dalston Parish
It com to the ears 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 cums i' the county,
But nin wi' Cumdivock can match;
It's sae neyce to luik owre the black pasture,
Wi' the fells abuin aw, far away—
There is nee sec pleace, nit in England,
For there lives the sweet Sally Gray!
I was sebbenteen last Collop-Monday,
And she's just the 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,
Far fain wad I see Sally Gray.
Had tou seen her at kurk, 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 cruds wi' Dick Miller,
And hear aw his cracks and his jwokes;
The dumb weyfe was tellin their fortunes,
What! I mud be like other fwokes!
Wi' 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.
0 was I but Lword o' the manor,
A nabob, or parliament man,
What thousands on thousands I'd gi' her,
Wad she nobbet gi' me her han!
A cwoach and six horses I'd buy her,
And gar fwok stan out o' the way,
Then I'd lowp up behint like a footman —
Oh! the warl for my sweet Sally Gray!
They may brag o' their feyne Carel lasses,
Their feathers, their durtment, and 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 May —
0 lad! I cou'd sit here for ever,
And talk about sweet Sally Gray!
July 24,1802
Hev a lissen tu threea tyales fra oor 2011 CD - Crack was Good.
Being a hired lad, wukkin' wid sheep und haytiming.
Barfin - A horse collar. A grand thing is a barfin ta gurn throo. (see Braffam - Braugham below)
Brim - Top
Brossen-full - Hed mair to eat than’s easy er good.
Dowin - Lunch, ten o’clock.
Aye! aye! thoo allus manishes ta land up aboot dowin time.
Gallases - Braces ta hod yan’s britches up.
Gurn - Gurn, an’ bide ’t. It’s good philosophy when ye ca’t run away frae ’t. Ah yance saw a fella gurnen throo a barfun fer a pun o’ bacca, an’ he gat it.
Haver - Oats.
That field o’ haver liuks weel.
Howk - To scoop out;
howk a whol; howk t’ inside oot.
Kisened - To dry out (and I've heard kissend being used for burnt too).
As kisened as a kill stick. Noo Ah nivver saw a kill stick, but it’s summat varra dry wi’ neea natur left in’t, acos owt ’at’s kisened’s mortal near withoot any sap er owt worth niamen.
Lick-pot, Lang-Man - The first and second fingers.
Roke - Scratch.
That barn’ll roke ivvry mortal thing i’ t’hoose wi’ that nail if tho’ll let it, ’at will ’t.
Shive - Slice
A slice of bread. To cut a neat swathe.
Braffam, Braugham - A collar for a horse.
Clev. bargam. Referred by Wedgwood with much probability to the same origin as the word hamberwe, or hanahorough, a coarse horse-collar, made of reed or straw, from beiwe or borough, protection from the hames, the two words of the compound being in this case reversed. (See Barfin above).
Hag - To chop
Dutch:hakken, Old Norse: hiacka, Swedish: hagga, German hacken, to chop, hack.
Kizzent - adj. Parched or shrivelled.
Crav. kizzened. I think the author of the Crav. Gloss, is right in taking the word to be the same as guizened, which Ray gives as applied to tubs or barrels that leak through drought. The origin, then, is evidently to be found in Old Norse gisinn, leaky (of tubs and vessels.) (see Kisened above).
Lick - To beat.
Welsh llachio, to beat, cudgel, Suio-Goth, laegga, to strike.
Lonnin' - A country lane
Frisian Lona, Laan a lane or narrow passage. Perhaps from Old Norse leyna, to hide.
Mislikken - To neglect or forget.
Dut. misselick, ambiguus, dubius, in quo errare, aut de quo dubitare potest.
Poddish - Porridge of oatmeal.
In common use throughout the agricultural districts, especially for breakfast, and though irreverently compared by Dickens to "diluted pin-cushions without the covers," a very wholesome article of diet. Welsh potes, Manx poddash.
Smeeth - Smooth
Ang.-Sax. smzthe, smooth.
Snerp - To contract, tighten, as a knot or snare.
Dan, snerpe, to tighten, contract, Dut. snerpen, to nip.
Teanel - A Basket (West and Cumberland Dialect)
Ang.-Sax. teanel, a basket, from tan, a twig.
Similarly swill, (contraction of swigel,) from Old Norse svigi, a twig.
Waits - Nightly musicians who used to play in the streets at Christmastide.
"Wayte, waker, vigil" Old Norse vakta; Old High German wahten; German wachten - to watch or keep awake.
Brek - Fun; a practical joke. A good story, generally of the sporting type; an amusing incident.
Curly kue - G. a flourish in writing, &c.
Fash - G. trouble ; inconvenience.
Fasten eve - Shrove Tuesday evening or the eve of the feast before Lent.
'At Fasten eve neet
Ceuks find cannel leet.'
After this night the cooking is to be done by daylight for the season, or the cooks must provide candles.
Frosk - The Frog (back in 1878 the author noted that the word was nearly obsolete!)
Gowpin - A handful; or the two hands full
Lang-end - The final end.
Pissibeds - The flowers of the dandelion plant.
Rossel,
(1) v.t. to heat, to roast. "To rossel one's shins."
(2) vi. To bask over a fire.
Thible,Tibel
n - a stick to stir porridge
(this is an interesting variation to me. In Billy Brannan, a tyale fra t'Abbey Holme Billy used Thivel).
Yalla Pumps
n - very young calve; so called from their hoofs being yellow when calved.
Yallow-yowring
n. the yellow-hammer
Beckie - (Workington) A water bailiff who makes sure that the fisherfolk have permission to tickle the trout and salmon!
Brossenful - (sometime Brussenful) To be pleasantly full after after your meal.
Blackite - A bramble, A blackberry.
(Efter picking this yer' crop, ah telt the t'Cumberland Blackite Broonie Recipe)
Button Sticks - (Whitehaven) At the start of the Industrial Revolution poor country folk coming to work in the mines may have used sticks rather than buttons to hold their clothes together.
Chittering - Cold. Linked to shivering or trembling.
Kaylieghed - Supped ower much. Inebriated
Kersmas - Christmas
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