Poetry > Ballads in the Cumberland dialect

CUMBEELAND BALLADS.
21
i »Ay, Andrew, lad! draw in a stuil,
j And gi’e us a sliek o’ thy daddle;
I got aw the news, far and nar,4
I ’ Sae set off as fast’s e could waddle.
I iln France they’ve hut sworrofu’ times,
j For Bonny part’s* nit as he sud he;
|America’s nobbet sae sae;
j And England nit quite as she mud be:
! Sad wark there’s amang blacks and wheytes,+
4 Sec tellin plain teales to their feaces,
iWi’ murders, and wars, and aw that—
'' But, hod—I forget where the pleace is.
| Our parson he gat drunk as muck,
j Then ledder’d aw t’ lads round about him;
I ’ They said he was nobbet hawf reet,
f And fwok mud as weel be widout him;
! it The yell’s to be fourpence a whart—
Odswinge, lad, there will be rare drinking!
‘ Billy Pitt’s mad as onie march hare,
' And niver was reet, fwok are thinking.
\ A weddin we’ll hev or it’s lang,
j Wi’ Bet Brag and lal Tommy Tagwally;
: Jack Bunton’s far off to the sea—
i It’ll e’en be the deeth of our Sally;
! The dogger has bowt a new wig;
Dalston singers come here agean Sunday;
f Lord Nelson’s taen three Spanish fleets,
? And the Dancin Schuil opens on Monday.
N * Buonaparte.
t Alluding to the insurrection of the Blacks.