Poetry > Ballads in the Cumberland dialect

CUMBERLAND BALLADS.
145
And he that won’t feight to defend them,
I wish he may ne’er want black een.
May our murry-neets, clay-daubins, races,
And weddins, aye finish wi’ glee;
And when ought’s amang us worth nwotish,
Lang may I be present to see.
THE BEGGAR AND KEATIE.
Tune—“ O’er the muir amang the heather."
KEATIE.
Whee’s rap rappin at the duir,
Now, when our aul fwok are sleepin ?
Thou’ll git nowt here if thou’s puir—-
Owre the hills thou’d best be creepin!
When sec flaysome fuils we see,
Decent fwok may start and shudder;
I’ll nit move the duir to thee—
Yagrant-leyke, thou’s nowt but bodder!
BEGGAR.
Oh! guid lassie, let me in!
I’ve nae money, meat, or eleedin—
Starv’t wi’ this caul angry win;
Aul an’ helpless—deeth ay dreedin!
Let me lig in bam or byre;
Ae brown crust will pruive a dainty:
Dui, sweet lass ! what I desire,
If thou whop’st for peace and plenty.
KEATIE.
Beggars yen may weel despise—
To the sweyne-hull hie an’ swat thee,
Rap nae mair, if thou be wise;
Here’s a dog wad fain be at thee: