Poetry > Ballads in the Cumberland dialect

CUMBEBLAND BALLADS.
87
DICK WATTERS.
Tunis—“ Crowdy."
0 Jenny! Jenny! where’s ton been?
Thy ladder is just mad at tee;
He seed somebody i’ the croft,
And gulders as he’d wurry me.
0 monie are a mudder’s whopes.
And monie are a mndder’s fears,
And monie a bitter, bitter pang,
Death suin and leate her bosom tears!
We brong thee up, pat thee to schuil,
And dead te weel as peer fwok can;
We lam’d thee heath to dance and read,
But now tou’s crazy for a man.
0 monie are, &c.
When tou was young, and at my knee,
I dwoated on thee, day and heet;
But now tou’s rakin, rakin still,
And niver, niver i’ my seet.
0 monie are, &e.
Tou’s proud, and past aw guid adveyce—
Yen mud as weel speak till a stean;
Still, still, thy awn way, reet or wrang—
Mess, but ton’ll rue’t when I am geane!
0 monie are, &c.
Dick Watters, I ha’e tel’t thee oft,
Ne’er means to be a son o’ mine;
He seeks thy ruin, sure as deeth,
Then like Bet Baxter tou may whine.
0 monie are, &e.