Poetry > Ballads in the Cumberland dialect

18
CUMBERLAND BALLADS.
Tou 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 ladder 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 full or font,
To think o’ sec a frow;
In aw her flegmagaries donn’d,
What is she?—nought ’at dow:
Theer’s sceape-greace Ben, the neybors ken,
Can git her onie day—
Ere I’d be fash’d wi’ sec a yen,
I’d list, or rin away!
Wi’ aw her trinkums on her back.
She’s feyne eneugh for t’ squire;
A sairy weyfe, I trow, she’d mak,
At didn’t muck a byre;—
But whisht! here comes my titty Greace,
She’ll guess what we’re about—
To mwom-o’mworn, i’ this seame pleace,
We’ll hae the stwory out.
December 19, 1801.