Folk-Speech of Cumberland and Some Districts Adjacent / Being Short Stories and Rhymes in the Dialects of the West Border Counties

by Alexander Craig Gibson

A SNECK POSSET.

Niver ageàn, Eddy! Niver ageàn!

If I moo’n’t hev a lad ’at ’ill coort me my leàn,

’At ’ill hod by ya sweetheart, an’ me be that yan,

I mūn bide as I is till I dee.

Thū’s coddel’t Keàt Crosstet, Ann Atchin, Jane Blair,

’Becca Rudd, Mary Mo’son, Ruth Lytle, an’ mair;

Thoo says it’s o’ fūn, an’ sec fūn ma’ be fair,

But it doesn’t seem jannic to me.

I favour’t the’, ey! abeùn o’ t’ lads aboot;

I thowte, like a feùl, ’at thū’d sing-elt me oot

Frae t’ tūdders, an’ I’ve been reet sarra’t, na doobt,

To trust sec a taistrel as thee.

Reet sarra’t? Ey, mess! I was warn’t gaily weel,—

I was tel’t hoo thū’d feùl’t an’ than left Greàcy Peile;

An’ what reet hed I to believe thoo wad deal

Ayder fairer or fonter wi’ me?

Fwoke tel’t mé thoo com of a slape, sneeky breed;—

’At a tungue sec as thine seldom hung iv a heid;—

’At twice i’ three times when thoo said owte, thoo leed;

But I fanciet that hardly cūd be.

For ’Speàtry, I kent, was a hard-spocken pleàce,

An’ I thowte ’at, may-hap, thū’d been wrang’t aboot Greàce;—

God help mé!—I thowte I read t’ truth i’ thy feàce,

When thoo swore thoo cared only for me.

We’re silly, us lasses—We’re maizlins, I know!—

We’re t’ meàst teàn wi’ them ’at oor frinds meàst misco’;

An’ when we’re teàn in, we’ve to shear what we sow,

An’ to rue sec mistaks till we dee.

But leet com’ i’ time, an’ it o’ com’ at yance,

I so’t fair aneùf, but, to give thee ya chance,

I went by mysel’ to Jane Loncaster’s dance,

Just to see if thoo dūd care for me.

Theear, hoaf oot o’ seet, a bye corner I teùk,

An’ thoo dūdn’t cū’ nār; nūt a smile nor a leùk

Dūd té kest to poor me, as I dark’t i’ my neùk,

An’ wūnder’t I’d trustit i’ thee.

Thoo stack till Bess Bruff like a cockelty būr;

An’ she cūtter’t wi’ thee jūst to greg Harry Scūrr;—

When t’ cūshi’n com’ in thoo teùk t’ cūshi’n tull hur,

An’ thoo glimed, when thoo kiss’t her, at me.

But Harry an’ Bess meàd it up iv a crack;

An’ noo, ’at thū’s hed a begonk, thoo cū’s back;

But if thū’s fūnd oot thine, I’ve fūnd oot my mistak’,

An’, I’ll ho’d mysel’ heart-heàl an’ free.

Sooa Neddy, gud lad, dro’ thy steàk, an’ be gā’n;

Amang thy oald chances thū’s m’appen finnd yan

Ma’ be fain, though thū’s snaip’t her, to hev the’ ageàn,

But, Eddy! that yan isn’t me.

---

[REMARKS ON THE CUMBERLAND DIALECT.]

The dialect of Cumberland, spoken in its purity only in the central parts of the county, may be admitted to be deficient in rhythm; and remarkable as it is for force and expression, its harshness of cadence renders it scarcely available for any poetry except the humorous or descriptive. By those unaccustomed or unattached to it, it may probably be considered hard and coarse even in prose compositions.

Its principal peculiarity is to be found in its vowel and diphthongal sounds, which, for the most part, are made either broader or deeper than in ordinary pronunciation; and this may be indicated with sufficient ease and distinctness, by means of phonetic spelling, when written or printed, to enable any reader with a little practice and care to pronounce broad Cumbrian with tolerable correctness.

The most important instance of this vowel peculiarity exists in the pronunciation of the long A and the short U, the former of which is sounded generally yah and the latter uh; thus to secure the Cumbrian pronunciation—ale must be spelled yahl and ace, yahss, lame is made lyahm, name nyahm, etc., etc., all monosyllabic, or, to prevent the accent being laid upon the Y, and so making two syllables, these words might be written leahm, neahm. As regards the U, the first syllable of cunning is in Cumberland lengthened out exactly to the sound of the German kuhn, and come is made kuhm. These sounds can only be conveyed by the interposition of the H. When I first scribbled in the folk-speech of Cumberland I wrote it after this fashion, and the efficacy of the method was proved by the fact that intelligent or painstaking readers, knowing nothing of the dialect as spoken, were able to repeat the verses called “Branthet Neuk Boggle” in a style that might have satisfied even an exigeant professor of our Cumbrian philology.

The Cumberland dialect so written, however, had a remarkably ugly and uncouth appearance when printed, and the remonstrances of my present provincial publisher induced me to abandon the H orthography, and endeavour to secure the proper pronunciations by means of accent marks, spelling the words instanced above leàm, neàm, cūnning, cūm, et similia similiter.

The broad O and Oa are in our Cumberland speech altered into eà, with the sound of yah, home becoming heàm, broad breàd, etc. There are exceptions to this as to most other rules, for lane is rendered as lwoan or lonnin’, choke as chowk, croak as crowk, road as rwoad, and more as mair, while shore has its ordinary sound. Almost in reversal of these changes the broad A as in ball, a dance, Al, as in walk, Aw, as in awful, are sounded like the broad O or Oa, thus boall, woak, oaful, etc.; but the L is preserved in oala’s, for always, scalp is pronounced scowpe, and ball, a plaything, is bo’, all, oa’, call, co’, hall, ho’, etc., etc.

Ea gets the pronunciation properly given to it in veal and mead; so that bread is breed, head, heed, dead, deed, etc., etc.; but when this diphthong precedes R, as in bear, wear, etc., it becomes dissyllabic like fear, as commonly pronounced, and mare too becomes mee-ar.

Ei becomes ay, either and neither becoming ayder and nayder, sometimes owder and nowder.

The broad I in bite, write, etc., the Cumbrians deepen almost as is done by well educated people in the southern counties, with notable exceptions however, the first personal pronoun being made Ah; Igh, shortened and gutturalized by the Scotch, being sounded like Ee, night being neet, light, leet, etc., and find and bind pronounced like wind, viz.—finnd, binnd.

The double O is generally pronounced eù, or more exactly yuh shortly, fool being feùl, school, scheùl, etc., in one short syllable. Do and too are often pronounced according to this rule, but almost equally often are made into dee and tee, while the preposition to is for the most part changed into till or tull.

With Ou and Ow Cumberland speakers are somewhat capricious, round being made roond, town, toon, etc., but found and bound become fūnd and būnd, ought, owte, nought, nowte, etc.

O with the sound of the short U is treated in a very arbitrary manner—one being called yan, none, nin, and oven, yubben.

Qu is generally softened into wh, aspirated distinctly—quick being pronounced whick, and quite, white, and Quaker, with old people, is Whaker.

Y is sometimes converted into G, as in garth for yard, garn for yarn; and again that habit is sometimes reversed, as in yatt for gate.

The corruptions or variations of consonants are not so marked as those of vowels. The most notable are the hardening of Th into Dd, making father, fadder, mother, mūdder, etc.; and the dropping of the two last of the three letters in the definite article, well illustrated by the Whitehaven boy’s reply to an enquiry as to what ships had come in:—“T’ ’Enry, an’ t’ ’Ebe, an’ t’ Ant, an’ t’ Atlas, an’ t’ Aurora;” i.e. the Henry, the Hebe, the Ant, the Atlas, and the Aurora. Then we may notice the discarding of the final letter from all words ending in ing, and changing that syllable in all present participles to an, the participle of pass being in Cumberland more like the French passant than the English passing; also the final age being made ish, as in cabbish for cabbage, manish for manage, etc.; the final ous too undergoing the same change, as in faymish for famous, parlish for parlous, etc.; also idge as in poddish for porridge, or primarily, potage.

V is often converted into B or Bb—evening, eleven, Whitehaven being called ebenin’, elebben, Whitehebben, etc.

These corruptions and deviations comprise nearly all the points wherein the dialect of Cumberland differs in sound and pronunciation from ordinary English speech; and set forth roughly, as they are, (abbreviations explaining themselves, and archaic words being given in a concise glossary) they may, with a little attention, enable the uninitiated reader to understand all the Cumbrian pieces contained in this volume.

Some irregular verbs, as well as some not commonly classed as irregular, are curiously varied in Cumbrian conjugations. I give a few of these, written down as they rise in recollection, and arranged a la Lindley Murray.

Present.	Past.	Past Participle.
Break	Brack	Brocken
Bring	Brong, and Brang	Browte
Brust (burst)	Brast	Brossen
Cleed (clothe)	Cleàd	Cled
Clim’	Clam	Clim’t and Clum
Cūm (come)	Com	Cum’t
Cut	Cot and Cuttit	Cutten
Drink	Drunk	Drucken and Drocken
Drive	Dreàv	Druvven
Fling	Flang	Flung
Git (get)	Gat	Gitten
Gi’e (give)	Gev	Gi’en
Ga and Gang (go)	Went	Geàn
Greet (weep)	Grat	Grūtten
Hit	Hat and Hot	Hitten
Ho’d (hold)	Hodit	Hodden
Let	Let	Letten
Kest (cast)	Kest	Kessen
Knead	Knod	Knodden
May	May’d or Med
Mun (must)	Mūd
Put	Pot	Putten
Rive	Reàv	Ruvven
Run	Ron	Run
Rise	Reùz	Ruzzen
Stick	Stack	Stuck and Stucken
Set	Set	Setten
Tak	Tok and Teùk	Tocken
Thrust	Thrustit	Throssen

Minced or modified oaths are remarkably numerous in Cumberland, and in very common use. Most of them have descended from the old Roman Catholic times when, as Dr. Newman in speaking of Roman Catholic populations of the present day, avers, habitual swearing indicated piety and reverence for things sacred, and not profaneness. As heard now in Cumberland, these ancient expletives are as void of piety as of profanity, being used without any knowledge of their original signification, and merely to add force to asseveration, and to express, as varied in tone, surprise, disgust, pleasure, or indeed almost any feeling or emotion whatever. I append a few of these with their probable, often obvious, etyma:—

’Scush or Skerse	God’s curse
Goy, and Goy Sonn	God, and God’s Son
Gock, and Gock Sonn	Ibid. Ibid.
’Od’s wuns an’ deeth	God’s wounds and death
Loavin’ days	Loving Jesus
’Od’s wintry wuns	God’s sundry, or wondrous, wounds
’Od’s wyte leet on thee	God’s blame fall on you
’Od rot, ’Od sink, etc., etc.	See Dickinson’s Glossary
’ Marry	By Mary
’ Mess	By the Mass
Dār, Dy, and Dyne	Damn
Faix, and Faikins	Faith
Cock’s wunters	God’s wonders
Loze	Lord
My song	My soul
Deil bin	Devil be in

The peculiarities of the Scottish dialect have been explained by many writers, much more ably, as well as more at length, than may be done by me. Therefore the only assistance towards the understanding my Scots rhymes that I offer the reader is to intermingle, in the glossary appended, such Scottish words as I have used, with those proper to Cumberland and those common to both sides the Border.

The brief glossary here given consists, then, only of the words used in Scotland or Cumberland, or both, which appear in the foregoing Tales and Rhymes; corruptions and abbreviations being omitted. The significations I alone am answerable for, having, in nearly all instances, adopted the sense I can recollect the words being used in by the people speaking them in their daily talk. The quotations are intended to make these significations more intelligible, and also, by showing the manner in which the words so illustrated are used by others, to prove that the meanings I have so adopted are generally correct.

---

A GLOSSARY
OF
SCOTCH AND CUMBRIAN WORDS

OCCURRING IN THE RHYMES AND TALES CONTAINED IN THIS VOLUME.

---

C signifies that the word it follows is Cumbrian. S that it is Scotch. S and C that it is common to both dialects.

---

A.

Addle, or Eddle, C, earn.

“What, I mun tak’ my flale wimma, antres I git a job er two a threyshin, Ise addle summat be’t.”

Rev. T. Clarke. Johnny Shippard.

Aiblins, S, perhaps.

“But aiblins neighbour ye have not the heart,

An’ downa eithly wi’ the cunzie part.”

Ramsay. The Gentle Shepherd.

Aneuf, C, enough in quantity.

Anew, C, enough in number.

“We’ve anew o’ sec as thee, an’ aneuf o’ what thou brings wid thee.”—Said to a Hawker.

Aslew, C, amiss, out of course.

“There’s nowte sa far aslew but gud manishment med set it streight.”—Proverb.

Atweel, S, I wot well. Used to strengthen either affirmation or denial.

“Are they a’ Johnie’s?

Eh! atweel na;

Twa o’ them were born

When Johnie was awa.”

Song—We’re a’ Noddin’.

B.

Back-end, C, late autumn.

“T’ back-end’s ola’s t’ bare-end.”—Proverb.

Bain, C, near, convenient. Used in most of the northern counties.

“I swin’d my ways t’ bainest geeat ower t’ fell into Sleddle.”

Rev. T. Clarke. Johnny Shippard.

Bairn, S, a child; Barne, C.

“Maidens’ bairns are aye weel bred.”—Proverb.

“They hed barnes an’ bits o’ flesh persirv’d i’ bottles as fwok does berries.”—Ritson. The Borrowdale Letter.

Barken’t, S and C, encrusted.

“For God-seak put that barne in t’ dolly-tūb an’ scrūb’t: it’s fairly barken’t ower wid mūck.”—Said of a rarely washed infant.

Barrow-back’t, C, bent by heavy work, such as wheeling loaded barrows.

“He’s gitten bow’t an’ barrow-back’t, an’ wizzent sair o’ t’ feàce.”—Heard at Ullock.

Batt, S and C,

“At ya batt he fell’t me flat,

’Od dye! he’ll be a darter.”

Mark Lonsdale. The Upshot.

Baul’, S, bold, fierce.

“The first fuff o’ a fat haggis is aye the baul’est.”—Proverb.

Beàdless, C. This adjective is used to signify intolerable in suffering, and also impatient of pain—thus

“He says t’ pain’s beàdless, but than he’s a beàdless body.”

Said to a Doctor.

Beck, C, a rivulet.

“Change is leetsome, if it’s no’but oot o’ bed intil t’ beck.”

Proverb.

Beel, C, to bellow like a bull.

“Summet tha caw’t roworgins began a beelin’ like a hundred mad bulls, an’ as many lal lads i’ ther sarks began a screamin’ murder, I think, for ivery beel was like thunner.”

Ritson. The Borrowdale Letter.

Begonk, Old S and C, a disappointment, “a sell.”

“Now Cromwell’s gane to Nick; an’ ane ca’d Monk

Has played the Rumple a richt slee begunk.”

Ramsay. The Gentle Shepherd.

Begood, S, began.

“The baronne he begood to bob,

No longer colde he stande.”

Hogg. Lyttil Pynkie.

Beild, S and C, shelter.

“Better a wee buss than nae beild.”—Proverb. Burns’ Motto.

“Weal beealt frae t’ fell wind by some heeh crags.”

Rev. T Clarke. T’ Reysh-bearin’.

Bein, S, snug, comfortable.

“Were your bein rooms as thinly stocked as mine,

Less ye wad lose, and less wad ye repine.”

Ramsay. The Gentle Shepherd.

Belyve, S and C, by and bye.

“Belyve, the elder bairns come drapping in.”

Burns. Cotter’s Saturday Night.

Ben, S, the inner part of a house.

“It’s ill bringing but what’s no ben.”—Proverb.

Bent, S, a coarse hard grass; applied also to the sterile land where bent grows.

“Gin ye’ll consent to scour the bent

Wi’ me, a rantin’ Hielandman.”

Hamilton. Song.

Billie, S, brother.

“Be of gude cheir, now, Archie lad!

Be of gude cheir, now, dear billie.”

Ballad—Archie o’ Ca’field.

Bink, S, a bench for sitting upon.

“For faut o’ wise fouk feuls sit on binks.”—Proverb.

Birl, S, to drink in conviviality; also to spend money in drinking.

“When they were at the supper set

An’ birlin’ at the wine.”

Ballad—Young Huntin.

“She took me in, she set me doon,

An’ hecht to keep me lawin’ free;

But, cunning carlin’ that she was,

She gar’t me birl my bawbee.”

Song—Andro’ wi’ his cutty gun.

In the Lake Country the attendants who serve the drink round at sheep-shearings, etc., are called burlers.

Birkie, S, a brisk forward fellow.

“See yon birkie ca’d a lord.”

Burns. For a’ that.

Black-kites, C, bramble berries; in some parts called brummel-kites, in others black-bums.

“I wantit grog—she brong mé black-kite wine.”

Heard at Harrington.

Blate, S and C, bashful.

“A blate cat maks a proud mouse.”—Proverb.

“I’ve wonder’t oft o’ leàte

What made thee leùk sea skar an’ seem sea bleàte.”

Graham. Gwordie and Will.

Bleeze, S and C, flame.

“In winter when he toils through wind and rain,

A bleezin’ ingle and a clean hearth-stane.”

Ramsay. The Gentle Shepherd.

Blether, S and C, noisy silly talk, loquacity.

“A lawyer neist, wi’ bletherin’ gab,

Wha speeches wove like onie wab.”

Old Song—Jenny’s Bawbee.

“Chaps like these, like butterflees,

Win owte wi’ pride an’ blether.”

Anderson. Laird Johnie.

Blink, S, glance.

“The evening sun was ne’er sae sweet

As was the blink o’ Phemie’s e’e.”

Burns. Blythe was she.

Blurt, C; Blirt, S, sudden burst of weeping, etc.

“The lassie lost her silken snood,

Whilk cost her monie a blirt an’ bleer e’e.”

Song.

Blythe, S, cheerful, happy.

“A blythe heart mak’s a blooming look.”—Proverb.

Bood, S, behoved to.

“Weel leese me o’ you, Souter Jock,

For tricks ye bood be tryin’.”

Ferguson. The Election.

Boune, Old S, to journey or go.

“Win up! win up, now, Hynde Etin,

Win up, an’ boune wi’ me.”

Ballad—Hynde Etin.

Bowk, S and C, to retch.

“For aye ye sup the brose at e’en

Ye bowk at in the morn, lassie.”

Song—Ye ha’e lain wrang, lassie.

Brae, S, bank of a stream, brow.

“’Neath the brae the burnie jooks.”

Tannahill. Gloomy Winter.

Brackin’, C; Breckan, S, the common fern (Pteris Aquilina).

A lady near Hawkshead having bought a small fern plant at a flower show, a neighbour exclaimed, “Three and sixpence for a lile brackin! I’d ha’ browte her a leeàd o’ them for’t!”

“Round the sylvan fairy nooks

Feathery breckans fringe the rocks.”

Tannahill. Gloomy Winter.

Brant, C, steep.

“Old Man! Old Man! your sides are brant.”

The Old Man.

Brat, S and C, apron; (used frequently for clothing in general.)

“To get them brats, then, ye maun toil an’ spin.”

Ramsay. The Gentle Shepherd.

“To see her whol’d stockings, her brat, an’ her gown.”

Anderson. Our Sukey.

Braw, S, fine, handsomely attired.

“Upon the banks o’ flowing Clyde

The lasses busk them braw.”

Burns. Of a’ the Airts.

Break, C, a joke, a bit of fun.

“Joe Tyson teem’t a pint o’ yall doon Danny Towson’ back. Wasn’t that a break?”—Heard at Dean.

Buirdly, S, stout, strongly made.

“They say ill ale has been the deid

O’ monie a buirdly loon.”

Ferguson. Leith Races.

Burn, S, a brook.

“Beside that brig, out owre that burn,

Where water bickereth bright and sheen.”

Ballad—Thomas the Rhymer.

Burnewin, S, a blacksmith (burn the wind).

“An’ burnewin comes on like death

At every chaup.”

Burns. Scotch Drink.

But, S, the outer apartment of a house.

“The auld wife cried but the house, ‘Jenny, come ben!’”

Song—The Yellow Hair’d Laddie.

But, S, without (probably from be out).

“Beauty but bounty’s but bauch.”—Proverb.

But and, Old S, also, likewise.

“Adieu madame, my mother dear,

But and my sisters three.”

Ballad—Lord Maxwell’s Good Night.

Byspel, C, a mischievous person.

“It’s a fair byspel ’at is’t. It breaks o’ ’at cūms iv it geàt.”

C.

Cabbish-skrunt, C; Kail-runt, S, the stalk of a cabbage.

“Cabbish-skrunt pultess is grand for biles.”

Said by a rustic Doctor.

Canny, C, (Connie in Furness, etc.) nice, attractive, pleasant.

“God speed ye weel! a cannier pair

Ne’er kneel’d afore a priest.”

Miss Blamire. The Sailor Lad.

Canny, S, gentle, careful.

“Be cannie wi’ the cream.“—A common legend on tea-ware.

Canty, S, happy, cheerful.

”Canty war we ower yere kail,

Toddy jugs an’ draps o’ ale.”

Hogg. The Laird o’ Lamington.

Carle, S, a vulgar man.

“Auld gudeman ye’re a drucken carle, a drucken carle.”

Sir A. Boswell. Song.

Carlin, S, a coarse old woman; feminine of Carle.

On being told that the wives of the Scottish Judges claimed the title of “My Lady,” their husbands being “My Lord,” King James exclaimed: “I made the carles lords, but wha the deil made the carlins leddies?”

Chafts, S and C, the jaws.

“On Seaton crafts they buff’t their chafts,

An’ garrt them rin like daft, man.”

Skirvin. Tranent Muir.

“At time when nowte but teeth was gawn,

An’ aw by th’ chafts was tether’t.”

Mark Lonsdale. The Upshot.

Chap, S, rap, strike or stroke.

“An’ quhan he cam’ to Barnard’s Ha’

Would neither chap nor ca’.”

Ballad—Gilmorice.

Chiel’, S, a man; generally applied to young men.

“Weel we lo’e the chiel’ we think

Can get us tick or gi’e us drink.”

Ferguson. My Aul’ Breeks.

Clash, C and S, scandal, gossip.

“The king, the laws, the reets o’ man,

The parish clash, the empire’s ban.”

Stagg. New Year’s Epistle.

Clatter, S and C, superfluous, rapid or noisy talk.

“He that talks till himsel’ clatters till a feul.”—Proverb.

Clink, C, a sounding blow.

“An’ brong Fisher Jemmy a clink i’ the lug.”

Anderson. Burgh Reaces.

Clippin’, C, sheep-shearing. A great festival on the larger dale farms. For a description see “The Old Man,” first edition.

Clemm’d, C, starved with hunger. A Lancashire and Cheshire word.

Nixon, the Cheshire prophet, said he was “going to London to be clemm’d,” and was accidentally shut up in a closet without food, and there found dead—so fulfilling his prophecy.

Clot-heed, C, blockhead.

“I is gà’n to be a clot-heed—I’s leavin’ nin for mysel’!”

Anthony Gasgarth, carving a goose at a hunt dinner.

Clowk, C, clutch or grasp greedily.

“He meàd a clowk at my neckcloth and missed it.”

Said after a fight.

Cobbles, C, stones rounded by water-wear.

“Smith Lytle fell oot wi’ the cobbles,

An’ peel’d o’ the bark off his shins.

Anderson. The Codbeck Wedding.

Coddle, C, Cuddle, S, embrace.

“I trimlin’ steud an’ dursn’t speak,

But fain wad coddled Peggy Penn.”

Anderson. Peggy Penn.

“I’ve seen the day ye butter’t my brose,

An’ cuddlet me late an’ early.”

Old Song—The Deuk’s dang owre wi’ my Daidie.

Corbie, S, the carrion crow.

“It’s kittle shootin’ at corbies or clergy.”—Proverb.

Crack, S and C, converse; also boast.

“They crack’t away like bourtree guns.”

Mark Lonsdale. The Upshot.

“Keep out o’ his company that cracks o’ his cheatrie.”

Proverb.

Croodle, or Cruddle, S and C, crouch or shrink.

“My bonnie wee croodlin’ doo.”

Old Song.

“We sat doon an’ grat under a hedge or a wo’, o’ cruddlea togidder.”—Betty Yewdale. T’ terrible Knitters i’ Dent.

Crouse, S, brisk, bold, “bumptious.”

“A cock’s aye crouse on its ain midden-heed.”—Proverb.

Cushion dance, C, the finishing dance at a rural ball or merry-night.

A young man, carrying a cushion, paces round the room in time to the appropriate tune, selects a girl, lays the cushion at her feet, and both kneel upon it and kiss, the fiddler making an extraordinary squeal during the operation. The girl then takes the cushion to another young man, who kisses her as before, and eaves her free to “link” with the first, and march round the room. This is repeated till the whole party is brought in, when they all form a circle, and “kiss out” in the same manner, sometimes varying it by the kissers sitting on two chairs, back to back, in the middle of the ring, and kissing over their shoulders—a trying process to bashful youth of either sex.

Cuttie, S, any thing short—as a spoon, pipe, etc.

“Better sup wi’ a cuttie nor want a speun.”

Proverb.

“Aul’ Simon sat luntin’ his cuttie,

An’ lowsin’ his buttons for bed.”

Andrew Scott. Simon and Janet.

D.

Dadder, C, (Dodder in Furness, etc.) tremble, shiver.

I once heard a Cumberland youth, at a supper table, say, indicating a “shape” of jelly, “I’ll tak sūm o’ that dadderin’ stuff.”

Dadge, C, to plod along heavily.

“Then dadged we to the bog owre meedows dree,

To plet a sword and seevy cap for thee.”

Relph. Cursty and Peggy.

Daft, S and C, foolish, silly.

“Glower’t at me as he’d been daft.”

Song—The carle cam ower the craft.

“Ses I, ‘A was niver larnt sec daftness.’”

Rev. T. Clarke. Johnny Shippard.

Daized, C, stupified, benumbed.

“Theer war we stannin’, dodderin’ an’ daiz’t wi’ cauld, as neer deead as macks nea matter.”

Betty Yewdale. T’ terrible Knitters i’ Dent.

Dark, C, to lurk, keep unseen.

“On her leànly bed she toss’d her,

Darkin’ till the tempest ceas’d.”

Stagg. The Return.

Darrak, C, day’s-work.

“An’ as for a darrak in barn or in meedow,

Whee match’d me when just i’ my prime.”

Anderson. Twee auld Men.

Dicht, S, wipe, or cleanse.

“An’ aye she dichtit her father’s bluidy wounds,

When the blude ran reid as wine.”

Ballad—The Douglas Tragedy.

Doff, C, (do off, Old English) undress, strip.

“The bridesmaids o’ wi’ fusslin care

The bride, hauf-yieldin’, doff’t.”

Stagg. The Bridewain.

Don, C, (do on, old English) to dress.

“And up he rose, and he donn’d on his clothes,

And he d’upp’d the chamber door.”

Hamlet.

“He’s nicer in his war-day duds

Nor udders don’t i’ aw their best.”

Anderson. Geordie Gill.

Donk, C, damp.

“It donks an’ dazzles an’ does, but niver cūms iv any girt pell.”

A Boatman, on the Ullswater weather.

Dool, S, sadness.

“Lang may I weep in dool an’ sorrow.”

Hamilton. The Braes o’ Yarrow.

Douce, S and C, respectable, well-behaved.

“An’ now I’m grown sae cursed douce,

I pray and ponder but the house.”

Burns.

“The douce dapper lanleady criet ‘Eat, an’ be welcome.’”

Anderson. The Bleckell Murry-Neet.

Doucht, S, could; Dowe in the past tense.

“They held the nose an’ crook’t the mou’,

An’ doucht na bide the smell.”

Hogg. The Witch o’ Fife.

Dour, S, hard, stern.

“I’ll set her up on yon crab-tree,

It’s sour an’ dour, an’ so is she.”

Old Rhyme.

Dow, S, can, is able.

“Gin we canna do as we wad, we maun do as we dowe.”

Proverb.

Dowly, C, melancholy, dismal.

“When we turn’t round Windermere Watter heead, t’ waves blash’t seea dowly ’at we war fairly heart-brossen.”

Betty Yewdale. T’ terrible Knitters i’ Dent.

Dree, S, suffer; C, slow, lingering, also to move slowly.

“Dree out the inch when ye’ve tholed the span.”—Proverb.

“Six dree year hed Susan languish’d

Sen her Walter went away.”

Stagg. The Return.

Drook, S, drench.

“An’ aye she took the tither sook

To drook the stoury tow.”

Song—The weary pun’ o’ tow.

Drouthy, S, thirsty.

“The well o’ life is dribbling dry,

An’ drouthy, drouthy’s kimmer an’ I.”

Song—My Kimmer and I.

E.

Eerie, S, fearful, or calculated to cause superstitious fear or awe.

“Gloomy, gloomy was the nicht,

An’ eerie was the way.”

Old Ballad—Young Tamlane.

Egg, or Egg on, C, incite, urge.

“He was a rare egg-battle.”—Dickinson. Lamplugh Club.

Eldritch, S, unearthly.

“Quhan words he found, their eldritch sound

Was like the norlan’ blast.”

Dr. Jamieson. The Water Kelpie.

F.

Fash, S and C, trouble, annoy, bother (noun and verb).

“Ye’re sair fashed haudin’ naething together.”—Proverb.

“Oald clish ma clash, thou’s nowt but fash—

Ga heam to bed, ’Od dye thee!”

Mark Lonsdale. The Upshot.

Feal, S, comfortable.

“Frae tap to tae that cleeds me weel,

An’ haps me feal an’ warm at e’en.”

Burns. My Spinning Wheel.

Feck, S, a considerable quantity or number, most part.

“Wae sucks for him that has nae feck o’ ’t.”

Ferguson. Gude Braid Claith.

Feckless, S and C, feeble, useless.

“Feckless fowk are aye fain.”—Proverb.

“A thowte A sud no’but meeak a varra feckless fend, if A was witch’d seck a parlish lang way fray heeam.”

Rev. T. Clarke. Johnny Shippard.

Fells, C, hills.

“If there were nea fells there wad be nea deals.”—Proverb.

Few, C. This word is hardly translatable, but means to set about a task in a manner likely to accomplish it.

“I’t’ chimla neùk some gay gud han’s,

An’ gaily ill to slocken,

Set tea wi’ porringers an’ pans,

An’ few’t weel to get drucken.”

Mark Lonsdale. The Upshot.

Fewsome, C, capable-looking, workman-like.

“She warm’d him up some keàl,

An’ Ralph dud mak a varra fewsome meàl.”

Graham. Gwordie and Will.

Flaitch, C, Fleech, S, coax. Sometimes used as a noun, thus—

“He’s a fair flaitch when he wants owte.”—Said of me.

“She fleech’t him fairly to his bed

By ca’in’ him her burdie.”

Christ’s Kirk on the Green.

Flaucht, S, flash.

“Ae fire-flaucht darted through the rain,

Where a’ was dark afore.”

Kirkpatrick Sharp. Murder of Carlaverock.

Flay, C, Fley, S, to frighten.

“Fleying a bird’s no the gate to grip it.”—Proverb.

This word has its substantive form in flayan—

A blue-devilled fellow at Coniston said he could not stay in his house because there was flayan in it. “Ey,” said his mother, “If there isn’t there will be—there ’ill be empty cupboards, ther needn’t be wār flayan nor that!”

Fletherin, S, Flattering.

“Fletherin fowk’s maistly fause fowk.“—Proverb.

Flipe, C, a hat rim.

A retired sea-captain at Whitehaven used to be called ”Flipy Fisher,” on account of his broad brim.

Flyte, S and C, scold.

“An’ gin she tak’ the thing amiss,

E’en let her flyte her fill, Jo.”

Song—Steer her up.

Font, C, fond, foolishly attached, “spooney.”

“Whey, Gworge, thou’s owder feul or font,

To think o’ sec a frow.”

Anderson. Betty Brown.

Foorsett, C, to get in front of and face, to intercept.

A ghost used to haunt the “Crossgates” in Lamplugh, of which it was said, “Whativer way folk turns it foorsetts them.”

Footh and Foothy, S and C, abundance, well provided, plentifully stocked.

“He’s brought footh o’ foreign trash,

An’ dibbled it in our yairdie.”

Song—The wee wee German Lairdie.

“It’s a foothy hoose is Betty Turnbull’s.”

Said by old Cuddy Wilson at Workington.

Foregather, S, meet.

“To bear the milk-bowie nae pain was to me,

When I at the buchtin’ foregathered wi’ thee.”

Ramsay. The Gentle Shepherd.

Forfouchten, S, over fatigued, exhausted.

“I’m but like a forfouchten hound

Has been fechtin’ in a dirty syke.”

Ballad.—Hobbie Noble.

Fratch, C, quarrel.

“He’s just a fratchin’, feightin’ feul.”

Anderson. Dick Watters.

Fusionless, S, pithless, insipid.

“God! the aul’ doited body’s as fusionless as a docken!”

Michael Scott. Tom Cringle’s Log.

G.

Ga, C; Gang, S and C, go.

“I’ll gang nae mair to yon toon.”

Burns. Song.

Gangrel, S, vagrant.

“A merry core

O’ randy gangrel bodies.”

Burns. The Jolly Beggars.

Gar, S, make, compel.

“The first Scots kirk that they cam’ to

They garr’t the bells be rung;

The next Scots kirk that they cam’ to

They garr’t the mass be sung.”

Ballad—The Gay Goss-hawk.

Gay, C; Gey, S, (adverb form, Gaily) tolerable, considerable.

“Here’s a gay canny mwornin’.”—A common salutation.

“No verra, but gey.”—By-saying.

“Hoo irr ye preuvin?” “Gaily, gaily, gangin’ aboot!”

A common salutation and reply.

Geàl, C, split, rend, ache severely as from cold.

“I’ve an oald teuth, when t’ coald gits tull’t, it maks o’ geàl ageàn.”—Said to a Doctor.

Gear, S and C, wealth, substance.

“A gleib o’ lan’—a claut o’ gear

Was left me by my auntie, Tam.”

Burns. Ane an’ twenty, Tam.

“Bruff-side lairds bang’t aw the rest

For braggin’ o’ their gear.”

Anderson. Bleckell Murry-Neet.

Ged, S, the pike.

“Now safe the stately saumon sail,

An’ trouts bedropp’d wi’ crimson hail,

An’ eels weel kenn’d for souple tail,

An’ geds for greed.”

Burns. Tam Samson.

Gezlin, C and S, goslin, young goose.

“Peat’ lass, wid her yallow muffs,

Steud kaakin like a gezlin.”

Mark Lonsdale. The Upshot.

“If I canna keep geese I’ll keep gezlins.”—Proverb.

Ghem, ga way tull’t, C, game, go to it; a hunting phrase; used proverbially to signify any attractive fun or quarreling.

“There was a fine see howe—an’ ghem ga way tull’t.”

Gin, S, if.

“Gin a body meet a body.”

Song—Coming through the Rye.

Gledge, S, look slyly.

“Mr. Forret, alias Gledgin Gibbie, had borne the brunt of incensed kirk-sessions before that time.”

Hogg. Tibbie Hyslop.

Glent, S and C, gleam.

“Where flowers an’ gowans wont to glent

I’ bonnie blinks beside the bent.”

Ferguson. Auld Reekie.

Gliff, C and S, glimpse.

“Here, here it was (a wae leet on the pleace)

’At furst I gat a gliff o’ Betty’s feace.”

Relph. Harvest.

Glime, C, look sideways.

“’Twad mak a deid man laugh to see

Them glime at yen anudder.”

Anderson. The Village Gang.

Gloamin’, S, twilight.

“The gloamin’ grey out owre the welkin keeks.”

Ferguson. The Farmer’s Ingle.

Gloom, S, frown.

“Still away his heid was shyin’,

Gloomin’ like a boxing bull.”

John Johnston. Dear Meal Johnnie.

Glower, S and C, stare.

“He glower’t at the mune till he fell i’ the midden.”—Proverb.

“What’s t’e glowerin’ at? Does t’e see any cat’ horns?”

Sauce.

Glump, C, sulk.

“Neist time we met he glumpt and glower’t

An’ leukt anudder way.”

Anderson. The lass abeun thirty.

God Speed, C, a small wooden partition or screen placed within the house door, when it opens directly upon the sitting room. It has probably been called so from departing guests being wished “God Speed” beside it. I first heard the word at Harrington, from a humourist who asked a group of neighbours if they’d seen Tommy Wilson, who lived next door to him, adding, “If ye sud see him, tell him ’at his barns an’ mine hev been feightin’ till they’ve knock’d t’ God-speed doon.” The fun of this lay in the well known fact that both were childless.

Gorb, C, an unfledged bird.

“Geàp, gorbie, an’ thou’ll git a wūrm.”—Proverb.

Gowk, S and C, cuckoo, fool.

“Ye breed o’ the gowk, ye’ve nae rhyme but ane.”—Proverb.

“’Bout kings and councils gowks may fratch.”

Anderson. Gud strang yell.

Gowl, C, to weep vociferously, to howl.

“It greànt, an’ it gowl’t, an’ it freetent fwoke sair.”

Dickinson. Scallow-Beck Boggle.

Gradely, C, a Lancashire and Cheshire word, often used in Cumberland, signifying proper or correct. I have overheard myself, in contravention of the proverb, spoken of as “a varra gradely man” in the lake district.

Grank, C, to covet querulously.

“Hout man! what signifies repinin’,

Or grankin’, snifterin’, twistin’, twinin’.”

Stagg. New Year’s Epistle.

Greet, S and C, weep.

“It’s nae mair to see a woman greet than to see a goose gang barefit.”—Proverb.

“When we’d hed our belly full o’ greetin’ we gat up, an’ feel’t better for’t.”

Betty Yewdale. T’ terrible Knitters i’ Dent.

Greg, C, tantalize.

“It does greg yan to hear a hunt yan cannot see.”

Said by a veteran hunter whose sight was failing.

Gruesome, S, making the flesh creep with disgust or horror.

“An’ though she wore a human face,

It was a gruesome sight to see.”

Hogg. The Spirit of the Glen.

Gud his-sel’, C, felicitate, or gratify himself.

“Gi’e me anudder kiss.” “Nay, thou mun gud thysel’ wid what thou’s gitten!—thou’s git nea mair to-neet.”

An over-heard conversation.

Guff, S and C, a silly fellow.

“When sec-like guffs leame decent fwoke,

It’s time some laws sud alter.”

Anderson. The Village Gang.

Gumption, C, tact, cleverness.

“Hed I thy gumption or thy gift o’ gob.”

Graham. Geordie and Will.

Gyversome, C, voracious, ravenous.

“T’ mair ye give till greedy fwoke t’ mair gyversome they growe.”—Proverb.

H.

Hag, C, to cut with an axe.

“He was seun back, wid his axe ower his shooder, an’ begon to hag his way through t’ deurr.”

Dickinson. Lamplugh Club.

Hag-worm, C, the viper.

“Theear was beears, an’ lions, an’ tigers ... an’ girt yedtheran hag-werms, fower or five yerds lang.”

Rev. T. Clarke. Johnny Shippard.

Hake, C, a riotous festivity, tumult.

“They drank the yell up ivery drop,

Wid nowder hake nor quarrel.”

Mark Lonsdale. The Upshot.

Ham-sam, C, mingled promiscuously.

“Five or six gat on to t’ bed,

An’ sat ham-sam togidder.”

Mark Lonsdale. The Upshot.

Hank, S and C, skein of thread or yarn; also a loop.

“O though thy hair were hanks o’ gowd,

An’ thy lips were droppin’ hinnie.”

Song—The Waukrife Minnie.

“And when the worsted hanks she wound,

Her skill was further proved.”

S. Bamford. My Wynder.

Hantle, S and C, a considerable number or quantity.

Part of the Rev. Walter Dunlop’s congregation at Dumfries having joined the Baptists, he alluded to the circumstance in the pulpit, thus—“I thocht till ha’e gethered ye under my wings, as a hen gethereth her chickens, but a hantle o’ ye ha’e turn’t oot to be deuks, an’ ta’en to the water.”

“I’ve been a sad deevil, an’ spent gowd i’ gowpens,

But still I’ve a hantle left yet.”

Anderson. Twee Auld Men.

Hap, S and C, cover.

“Ance as gude

As ever happit flesh an’ blude.”

Ferguson. My Aul’ Breeks.

Haver, (pron. Havver) C, oats, oaten.

“Our Ellik likes fat bacon weel,

A haver bannock pleases Dick.”

Anderson. Gud strang Yell.

Hay-bay, C, uproar.

“Wi’ whiskey they weetit their wizzens,

An’ seun a sad hay-bay began.”

Anderson. The Clay Daubin’.

Heartsome, S and C, cheerful, pleasant.

“Let’s creep ower the heartsome turf ingle,

An’ laugh the wild winter away.”

Anderson. The days that are gane.

Heeze, S, hoist, elevate.

“Thae bonnie bairn time Heaven has sent

Still higher may it heeze ye.”

Burns. A Dream.

Heids an’ thraws, S, lying in irregular positions in bed or elsewhere.

“Lie heids an’ thraws like Jock an’ his mither.”—Proverb.

Herdwick, C, probably formed like bailiwick, etc., and first applied to the portion of hill-pasture assigned to the herds of each dale farm; now used to distinguish the hardy, active breed of sheep grazed upon the herdwicks.

“He breaks bands like a herdwick tip” is a proverbial saying I have heard applied to a rustic scape-grace.

Herk, S, whisper.

“When a Scotchman wants you to listen he says ‘speak,’ and when he wants yon to whisper he says ‘herk.’”—Anon.

Hirple, S and C, limp, walk lamely.

“The hares were hirplin doon the furs.”

Burns. The Holy Fair.

“Jack Mar, the hirplin pipers son,

Can bang them o’ at leein’.”

Anderson. The Village Gang.

Hoaf-thick, C, half-wit, thick-head.

“Than Watty Ferguson, provwok’t

To hear this hoaf-thick rattle.”

Stagg. The Bridewain.

Hoddingly, C, persistently.

“Does your pain come and go?” “It nayder cūms ner ga’s; it’s theear hoddingly.”—Said to a Doctor.

Hooal’t, or Whoal’t, C, holed, “bagged,” applied to anything being secured, thus—

At a school treat in High Furness I was “scrambling” comfits, and having filled a paper packet with gravel, and thrown it up, it was caught by a great hulking fellow, who thrust it into his pocket, exclaiming, “I’ve hooal’t that an’.” His face, when his attention was directed to the contents of his prize, was a sight.

Hosteler, Old S, keeper of an inn or hostel.

“Syne pay him on a gantree,

As hosteler wives should do.”

Old Song—The Maltman.

Hork, S, to burrow.

“The mouse is a wee merrie beastie;

The mowdie horks wantin’ the een.”

Old Song—Brose and Butter.

Hound-trail, or Dog trail, C, a drag hunt.

“Whist’s as much afooar lant (loo) as a fox-hunt’s afooar a dog-trail.”—Heard at a Merry-Night.

How, S and C, hollow, empty.

“A house looks how without a wife.”

Anderson. Tib and her Maister.

Howk, S and C, excavate.

“She has howkit a hole baith deep and wide,

She has putten them in baith side by side.”

Old Ballad—The Cruel Mother.

How-strowe, C, in confusion.

“Thy plew gear’s liggin’ how-strowe,

An’ somebody’s stown thee thy cou’ter.”

Mark Lonsdale. Johnnie.

Hugger-mugger, C, huddled up, out of order or system.

“Thus in hugger-mugger make a marriage.”

Shakspeare.

Most philologists hold that this word signifies private or surreptitious; but in Cumberland, where it is still in common use, the sense is as above.

Huller’t, C, coagulated or clotted—applied to blood.

I have heard of an up and down fight in a public-house, where “T’ huller’t bleud laid an inch thick on t’ flooer.”

I.

Ilka, or Ilk, S, each.

“Ilka blade o’ grass keps its ain drop o’ dew.”

Proverb, and Song by J. Ballantyne.

Intak, C, a piece of land taken in from the common.

“T’ intak’s t’ best o’ t’ grund,”—Said by a Dale-farmer.

Iverly, C, everly, continuously.

“How often do you take your ale?” “Yall? I’ tak it iverly!“ ”Iverly?” “Ey, ebben endways away!”

Part of a professional conversation.

J.

Jannic, C, a Lancashire word, signifying fair or honest.

“Thoo hes ower mickle jaw to be jannic.”

Said to a voluble Auctioneer.

Jink, S, to escape suddenly, a rapid evasion.

“Our billie’s gi’en us a’ the jink,

An’ owre the sea.”

Burns.

Job-jurnal, C, a toy on the principle of a humming top, but made with a shouldered stick passed through a perforated nut-shell and an apple, or failing that, a potato stuck upon the lower end, to be spun by pulling a string wrapped upon the shaft within the shell. In Furness this name is applied to the pig-nut, which in central Cumberland is called a yowie-yorlin, and in Dumfriesshire a hornick.

Joggle, C, to shake sharply, or violently.

“He dreàv us ower rwoads ’at varra nār joggled us to bits.” Said by an old lady at Loweswater.

Jook, S, to shrink, or dip the head to elude observation or missile.

“It’s past jooking when the heid’s off.”—Proverb.

K.

Kail, S; Keàl, C, broth—so called from a frequent ingredient.

“He gat his kail in a riven dish.”—Proverb.

“Swoaps o’ drink an’ gud lythe keàle

Cheer up each day.”

Stagg. The New Year’s Epistle.

Kaim’t, C, literally crooked, but used to signify cross, or peevish.

“Aa boddert my brain thinkan some on them ower,

An’ than set to wark an’ wreàtt doon three or fower

O’t’ kaymtest an’ t’ creuktest, like ‘garrak’ an’ ‘dyke-stower,’

Sek like as we use in oald Cummerlan’.”

Dickinson. The words of oald Cummerlan’.

Keàv, C, to dance awkwardly.

“That barn, says Hyne, i’ Palmer’ toft,

’Ill dea reet weel to keàv in.”

Mark Lonsdale. The Upshot.

Keek, S and C, to peep.

“He that keeks through a keyhole may see what will vex him.”—Proverb.

“She conquers mair nor Bonnypart

Whene’er she keeks aroun’”.

Anderson. The Thursby Witch.

Ken, S and C, know.

“Ken yersel and yere neighbours ’ill no mis-ken ye.”

Proverb.

Kirk-garth, C, church-yard.

“They tak meear pastime e what they see i’ th’ kirk-garth nor what they hear i’ th’ kirk.”—Mrs. Wheeler. Dialogues.

Kit, C, a small tub or bucket.

“A riddlin’—a riddlin’, an oald wife striddlin’,

An’ a kit full o’ cunning things in a coald morning.”

An ancient conundrum.

Kimmer, S, a familiar designation for woman—something like gossip. The young women who assist at christenings are called “maiden kimmers.”

“How do ye, kimmer?

An’ how do ye thrive—

A how monie bairns ha’e ye?

Kimmer! I ha’e five.”

Song—A’ Noddin’.

Knowe, S, knoll, hillock.

“His gear may buy him glens an’ knowes.”

Burns. To Daunton me.

L.

Lafter, C, a brood of chickens, etc.; also a setting of eggs.

“I hevn’t a ne’bour ’ill lend me a lafter of eggs.”

Said by a farmer’s wife.

Laik, C, play.

“But laiks at wate-not-whats within

O’ Sunday efterneun.”

Relph. After Horace.

Laikins, C, playthings, toys.

“Here’s babby-laikins—rowth o’ spice,

On sto’s an’ stands extended.”

Stagg. Rosley Fair.

Lait, C, seek.

“Lads i’t’ dark meade rampin’ wark

Or cloaks an’ clogs were laitit.”

Mark Lonsdale. The Upshot.

Lal, C, (in the northern and southern parts, Lile) little.

“I lal thowte fasts sec fearful things to bide.”

Relph. St. Agnes’ Fast.

Lap, C, wrap.

“Lap’t my cranky neckcloth round his heid.”

Graham. Gwordie and Will.

Lave, S, the rest, remainder.

“When a’ the lave gang to their bed,

I wander dowie up the glen.”

Song—Heelan’ Harry.

Lawin, S, a public house reckoning.

“Gude wife, count the lawin,

An’ bring a drappie mair.”

Burns. Song.

Leal, or Leil, S, true, pure, loyal.

“O gi’e me a token o’ love, sweet May—

A leil love-token true.”

A. Cunningham. The Mermaid.

Leàne, your leàne, his leàne, etc., S and C, lone, solitary.

“An’ when, sweet lassie, you’re ye’re leàne,

This heart o’ mine wad joy to know.”

Miss Blamire. The Toiling Day.

Leàth, C, a barn.

“Why ne had thou put the capel in the lathe.”

Chaucer. The Reeve’s Tale.

Ley, C, a scythe.

“Clogs, splinter new, bass-boddom’d chairs,

An’ lea-stanes for new leases.”

Stagg. Rosley Fair.

Lichtly, S, to make light of.

“The lass that lichtlies may lament.”—Proverb.

Lilt, S and C, a lively tune or song; or, as a verb, to sing merrily.

“Now haste ye turn King David ower,

An’ lilt wi’ holy clangour.”

Burns.

It means also to rise on the toes in walking. Diomed’s walk had a lilt in it, as described by Ulysses, thus—

“I ken the manner of his gait,

He rises on the toe: that spirit of his

In aspiration lifts him from the earth.”

Shakspeare. Troilus and Cressida.

Lippen, S, to trust.

“Ye’ll deceive nane but them that lippen to ye.”—Proverb.

Lirk, S and C, a wrinkle or fold.

“Sup sūm poddish, an’ tak’ t’ lirks oot o’ thy skin.”

Said to a rustic convalescent.

Lish, C, active.

“When I was a lish laughing lass o’ sixteen.”

Anderson. Auld Robby Miller.

Loan, S; Lonning, C, lane.

“The kye stood rowtin’ in the loan.”

Burns. The Twa Dogs.

“The lads an’ the lasses i’t’ lonning

Wer’ pairin’ like sparrows i’t’ spring.”

Anon. Raffles Merry-Neet.

Lock, C, a number or quantity.

“A gay lock o’ fwoke hed gedder’t up i’ time to gang tillt’ kurk, an’ away they struttit.”

Dickinson. Lamplugh Club.

Lofe, C, a chance of anything, an opportunity.

“Yance I hed t’ lofe an’ I’d luck to say no, an’ I niver hed t’ lofe ageàn.“—Said by an elderly spinster.

Lonter, C, lounge, or loiter.

”Lonterin’ fwoke’s ola’s lazy fwoke.”—Proverb.

Loon, S, rogue.

“I tint my curch an’ baith my shoon;

Ah! Duncan, ye’re an unco loon.”

Duncan Gray—Old Version.

Loot, S, stoop.

“He lootit doon her lips to kiss,

O kiss foreboding woe.”

C. K. Sharpe. The Murder of Carlaverock.

Lowe, S and C, a flame.

“To touch the glass her hand hes touch’d

It sets them in a lowe.”

Anderson. The Thursby Witch.

Lown, or Lownd, S and C, calm, still.

“Your chamber’s very dark, fair maid,

The nichte is wondrous lown.”

Ballad—Sir Roland.

Lowp, S and C, leap.

“Lowp off the steed, says false Sir John,

Yere bridal bed ye see.”

Ballad—May Colean.

“My heart keeps such a rout,

It lowps an’ lowps as if it wad lowp out.”

Ewan Clark. Costard’s Complaint.

Lowpy-back, C, leap-frog.

“Ye’ve been laikin at lowpy-back o’ t’ rwoad heàm.”

Part of a scolding.

Lugs, S and C, ears.

“I’ll lay my lugs in Pindus’ spring,

And invocate Apollo.”

Ramsay.

“Kursty, souple gammerstang,

Ned Wilson brong his lug a whang.”

Anderson. The Worton Wedding.

Lum, S, chimney.

“Sic reek as is therein maun come out at the lum’s top.”

Proverb.

Laigh, S, low.

“She lookit hiche to the bodynge hill,

An’ laighe to the darklynge deane.”

Telfer. The Gloamin’ Bucht.

M.

Maddle, or Maffle, C, to talk or act in a silly manner.

“O, mafflin Gwordie, t’ou’s been feulish lang.”

Graham. Gwordie and Will.

Maizelt, or Maiz’t, C, stupified.

“We war fairly maizel’t wi’ t’ cāld.”

Betty Yewdale. T’ terrible Knitters i’ Dent.

“Whyte maiz’d wi’ loungin’ on i’ th’ neuk.”

Stagg. Auld Lang Syne.

Maizlin, C, a simpleton.

“Banton lads grew parfet guffs,

An’ Thursby lasses maizlins.”

Mark Lonsdale. The Upshot.

Mak, C, sort, kind.

“It taks o’ maks to mak ivery mak.”

Rev. T. Clarke. Johnny Shippard.

Māp’ment, C, imbecility; compounded of mope and ment, like manage-ment, etc.

“He toked for iver sa lang, but he toked a deal o’ maapment.”—Ibid.

Mattie, C, the mark at quoits or pitch and toss. Skifting his mattie is proverbially used for shifting position or changing policy or course.

Maukin, S, the hare.

“The fuddlin’ bodies nowadays

Rin maukin-mad i’ Bacchus’ praise.”

Ferguson. Caller Water.

Maunder, S and C, to think, talk, or act dreamily.

“Aw wish this wanderin’ wark were o’er,

This maunderin’ to and fro.”

Edwin Waugh. Sweetheartin’ Gate.

Meat-heàl, C, very able to eat.

“He’s beàth meat-heàl an’ drink-heàl. Ther’ can’t be mickle t’ matter wid him.”—Said of a Hypochondriac.

Mell, C, meddle.

“Gangin’ frae house to house hearin’ news an’ mellin e ther nebbors.”—Mrs. Wheeler. Dialogues.

Mell, S, a mallet; the prize that used to be given to the last in a race. “Winning the Mell” in any contest is figuratively equivalent to taking the wooden spoon at the Cambridge examinations for honours.

Mense, S and C, propriety, creditable behaviour.

“I’ve seàv’t beàth my meat an’ my mense.”

Proverb, used when proffered hospitality is declined.

Messan, S and C, a small dog of indefinite breed.

“We hounds slew the hare, quo’ the bleer’d messan.”

Proverb.

“A little black messet danced sae like old Jenny.”

Miss Blamire. Sec a Durdum.

Mirk, S, dark.

“It fell about the Martinmas,

When nichts were lang an’ mirk.”

Old Ballad—The Wife of Usher’s Well.

Mischanter, S and C, misadventure.

“Thou’rt welcome, wean, mischanter fa’ me.”

Burns.

Mittens, S and C, gloves.

“He coft me a rokelay o’ blue,

An’ a pair o’ mittens o’ green.”

Macneil. I lo’e ne’er a laddie but ane.

“Twee yards o’ red ribbon to wear for his seake,

Forbye ledder mittens he bowte me.”

Anderson. First Luive.

Mowdie, S; Mowdie-warp, C, the mole.

“The mowdie powler’t oot o’ the yirth,

An’ kyss’t the synger’s feet.”

Telfer. The Gloaming Bucht.

“An’ teeak us intil lile hooals under t’ grūnd, ameeast like mowdie-warps.”

Rev. T. Clarke. Johnny Shippard.

Mūd, C, the past tense of must.

“He thowte ’at he mūd treat ye.”

Miss Blamire. The Meeting.

Mutch, S, a woman’s cap.

“She aff wi’ her apron, put on a silk goon,

A mutch wi’ reed ribbons, an’ cam’ awa’ doon.”

Lady Nairne. The Laird o’ Cockpen.

N.

Nab, C, a promontory in a lake.

“It’s o’ nabs an’ neuks is Windermer’ Watter.”

Said by a Coniston Man.

Neb, S and C, nose, beak.

“Gae tak this bonnie neb o’ mine,

That picks amang the corn,

An’ gi’e’t to the Duke o’ Hamilton,

To be a touting horn.”

Old Song—Robin Redbreast’s Testament.

Neàf, C, the nave of a wheel.

“T’ fells spreead oot fray a centre like t’ spooaks of a wheel fray t’ neàf.”—A Langdale Statesman.

Neif, or Neive, S and C, the hand, or fist.

“Sweet knight I kiss thy neif.”

Shakspeare. King Henry IV.

“What’s a gowpen o’ glaur? It’s just twa neive fu’s o’ clarts!”—Wilson. Noctes Ambrosianæ.

Nick’t i’ t’ heid, C, non compos mentis.

“Toakin sike mafflement! Ye mun be nick’t i’ t’ heead.”

A Coniston landlady to a chattering guest.

No’but, C, nothing but, only.

“He’s but a simplish sooart of a body,

’At thinks there’s no’but ya kind o’ shoddy.”

W. Bowness. Brough Hill Fair.

Nowte ’at dowe, C, nothing of ability, fit for nothing.

“In o’ her flegmagaries donn’d,

What is she?—nowte ’at dowe!”

Anderson. Betty Brown.

O.

Oomer, C, shade.

“Howay wi’ the’, an’ lig down i’ t’ owmer o’ t’ trees till I’ve time ùt tak’ the’ afooar Mr. Machell.”

Said by a farmer at Colton to an idle servant.

Oald-folk’s neet, C, an assembly for feasting, dancing, and card-playing, held at the rural public houses; once, probably, confined to married people, but now open to, and attended by, young and old.

P.

Paddock rud, or rid, or ridding, C, frog spawn.

“Auld Grizzy the witch, as some fwoke say,

Maks paddock-rud ointment for sair e’en.”

Anderson. The Witch Wife.

Pang, C and S, to cram.

“An’ some there wer could scarcely speak,

Their thropples wer sae pang’t.”

Stagg. The Bridewain.

“It kindles wit, it waukens lair,

It pangs us fu’ o’ knowledge.”

Burns. The Holy Fair.

Parlish, C, remarkable, worth speaking of.

“An’ parlish pranks ’mang Silloth banks

They hed as they were comin’.”

Stagg. The Bridewain.

“A bump as big as a young cockerel’s stone,

A parlous knock.”

Shakspeare. Romeo and Juliet.

Said to be a corruption of perilous, which is certainly not its meaning in Cumberland.

Pash, C, to dash or thrust down forcibly.

“Barne! I pash’t them doon.“—Said by Wm. Jackson to a neighbour’s daughter after his first victory at the Flan wrestling.

Pauchtie, S, proud, supercilious.

”Pauchtie damsels, bred at courts,

Wha thraw the mou’ an’ tak’ the dorts.”

Ferguson. The Gowdspink.

Pawkie, S, sly.

“A thief sae pawkie is my Jean.”

Burns.

Peerie, S, a peg-top. In Cumberland called a Cas’ley.

“He sleeps as soon’ as onie peerie.”—Common saying.

Phraise, S, smooth or fondling talk.

“He’s ta’en her in his armes twa,

Wi monie a kiss an’ phraise.”

Ballad—Young Huntin.

Pigs, S, pots, crockery.

“Where the pig’s brocken there let the sherds lie.”

Proverb.

Plack, S, the smallest coin of the old Scottish currency.

“He’ll never mak his plack a bawbee.”—Proverb.

Pleen, C, complain.

“Thou’s spoil’t for o’ manner o’ wark,

Thou no’but sits peghan an’ pleenan.”

Mark Lonsdale. Love in Cumberland.

Plumb, C, (in Furness, etc., pron. Plowmb) perpendicular.

The old landlady at the boat house on Ennerdale water said of a neighbouring doctor who had visited her, and who carries his head well back, “He was mair nor plumb!”

Poap, C, to walk aimlessly.

“Sūm poapan aboot as if they’d be hoaf dazed.”

Rev. T. Clarke. T’ Reysh Beearin’.

Powe, S, head, poll.

“There’s little wit within his powe

That lichts a candle at the lowe.”

Proverb.

Pree, S, to taste.

“An’ aye he preed the lassie’s mou’

As he gaed but an’ ben, O.”

Old Song.

“I preed her mou’.” The Scotch think this phrase a poetical way of saying “I kissed her.” Its literal translation into common English, “I tasted her mouth,” doesn’t sound like poetry; while its Cumbrian form, “I teàstit her feàce” sounds like anything rather than poetry; and their different versions of the same phrase illustrate rather happily the difference of character on the two sides of the Border.

Proddle, C, poke, or stir up.

“Proddlin’ up the smudderin’ embers.”

Stagg.

Pubble, C, plump.

“At Michaelmas a pubble goose—at Kersmas, standin’ pie.”

Old Saying.

Putten down, C, put to death.

“That nane may ken that ye are clerks,

Till ye be putten doon.”

Ballad—The Clerk’s Twa Sons.

Puzzen, C, poison.

“The doctor he’s a parfit plague,

An’ hauf the parish puzzens.”

Anderson. The Village Gang.

R.

Rackups, C, a game at marbles where the loser has to place his knuckles on one side of a hole to be “fired” at with the taws of the winners. “He mun stand his rackups” is a proverb implying the necessity of accepting the consequences of misconduct, defeat, or miscarriage of plans.

Rakin, C, wandering far or wildly.

“They ga rakin aboot widoot ayder errand or aim.”

Said of pedestrian tourists by a dalesman.

Rantin’, Ranty, S and C, wild, riotous.

“The rantin’ dog the daidie o’ ’t.”

Burns. Song.

Ratch, C, to search vigorously, to ransack.

“Ratch as ye will, ye’ll mak nowte out.”

Said to hunters in a wood.

Reek, S, smoke.

“The death o’ deevils, smoor’d in brimstone reek.”

Burns. The Twa Brigs.

Riggin’, S, the roof (probably from Ridging primarily).

“Ane may like the kirk weel aneuch without aye riding on the riggin’ o’ ’t.”—Proverb.

Rooers, C, (or rather Furness and Westmorland) oars.

“Why do you call them rooers?” “’Coase they irr rooers.” “They call them oars elsewhere.” “They may co’ them what they will, but if they roo wi’ them, they’re rooers.”

Conversation on Esthwaite lake.

Roose, S, praise, exalt.

”Roose the ford as ye find it.”—Proverb.

Rowp, S, auction; Rowp-crier, auctioneer.

“I canna pay’t an’ ye rowp me at the cross.”

Said by a hopeless debtor.

Rowth, S, abundance.

“Rich fouk ha’e rowth o’ frien’s.”—Proverb.

Rowe, S, roll.

“Where Cart rins rowin’ to the sea.”

Burns. The Gallant Weaver.

S.

Sackless, C, silly (originally, innocent).

“Our parson sweers a bonnie stick

Amang thur sackless asses.”

Anderson. The Village Gang.

Sairy, C, sorry.

“A sairy wife I trowe she’d mak

’At cudn’t muck a byre.”

Ibid. Betty Brown.

Sark, C and S, shirt (male or female).

“She won’t mend a sark, but reads novels, proud brat.”

Ibid. Elizabeth’s Burthday.

“Our women are nowadays a’ grown sae braw,

Ilk maun ha’e a sark, an’ some maun ha’e twa.”

Ross. The wee pickle tow.

Sarra, C, serve.

“The witch wife begg’d i’ our back-side,

An’ went unsarra’d away i’ the pet.”

Anderson. The Witch Wife.

Sauch, S, willow.

“Whereby the glancing waves o’ Clyde

Through sauchs an’ hangin’ hazels glide.”

Old Song—Bothwell Bank.

Scraffle, C, scramble.

“We scraffelt on i’ this fashion, an’ it was quite dark afooar we gat till Ammelside yatt.”

Betty Yewdale. T’ terrible Knitters i’ Dent.

Screes, C, sloping banks of fragmentary stone under precipices.

“Whoariver there’s screes

There’s mair steàns nor trees.”

Old Rhymes.

Scrimp, S, pinch, reduce.

“For lack o’ thee I scrimp my glass.”

Burns. On a Bank Note.

Scrowe, S and C, a lot of children, etc., rough or numerous.

“There’s sic a scrowe o’ Irishmen come ower frae Skinburness.”—Said at Annan.

Scunner, S, shuddering disgust—noun and verb.

“An’ yill an’ whiskey ga’e to cairds,

Until they scunner.”

Burns. Ep. to Smith.

Sec, C; Sic, S, such.

“Feegh! sec a yen we’ve hed at Codbeck,

As niver was under the sun.”

Anderson. The Codbeck Wedding.

“Sic as ye gie, sic will ye get.”—Proverb.

Shap, C, to seem likely, or tend to.

“They’re shappin’ to gang heàm wid empty pockets.”

Said of two losing whist players at a Merry Night.

Shinny, C; Shinty, S, a rough game played with knobbed or round ended sticks—called in the south of England, I believe, hocky.

“Shinny’s weel aneuf if shins wer’ seàf.”—Old saying.

Sinsyne, S, since then.

“She charm’d my heart an’ aye sinsyne,

I canna think o’ onie ither.”

Song—O’er the Muir.

Skeich, S, shy, distant.

“Maggie coost her heid fu’ heich,

Look’d asklent an’ unco skeich.”

Burns. Duncan Gray.

Skirl, S, scream.

“White and bludy puddings rowth

To gar the doctor skirl wi’ drowth.”

Ferguson. St Andrews.

Skreich, S; Skrike, C, shriek.

“It’s time aneuch to skreich when ye’re strucken.”

Proverb.

Skurl, C, slide.

“Skurl, skurl the’ doon—I’ll kep the’, come thy ways,

I’ll leuk ahint me—niver mind thy claes.”

Ewan Clarke.

Slake, C, a light smear as of grease, etc.

“Let’s tak’ slake an’ slake aboot till it’s done.”

Said in licking out a treacle pot.

Slape, C, slippery.

“I mun tell her fadder when I see him—she’s gittin’ varra slape,” old John Howe of Branthwaite Hall called out when he witnessed, by chance, a meeting of sweethearts on a lonely road.

Slare, C, to walk slowly.

“He may be a sharp worker, but he’s a slarin’ walker.”

Said by a farmer’s wife of a new come man servant.

Slashy, C, sloppy.

“It was beginnin’ to thowe, an’ was varra slashy an’ cāld.”

Betty Yewdale. T’ terrible Knitters i’ Dent.

Slatter, C, slop.

“Wi’ jaws o’ yell some durty beuts

Pat loft seun in a slatter.”

Mark Lonsdale. The Upshot.

Sleekie, or Sleekit, S, sly, smooth.

“O we were sly, sly!

O, we were sly an’ sleekit.”

Song.

Slipe, C, to slip away, to “hook it.”

“Slipe, my lad, while thou’s weel. Slipe, I say, an’ let neàbody see the’ gang.”—Said to a youth in a row.

Slocken, S and C, to slake thirst.

“Ha’e ye any clippin’ drink left?” “No!” “Ha’e ye any common yall? No! Ha’e ye any smo’ beer? No! Why than, hang it—ha’e ye any pig-stuff? I mun be slocken’t wi’ summat!”—John Kendall at Hawkshead Hall the day after the sheep-shearing feast.

Smaik, S, a small boy, or other small animal.

“He’s but a smaik, but he’s a man at the books.”

Said of a schoolboy.

Smittal, C, infectious.

“As smittal as t’ Smo’-pox.”

Said of a successful male animal kept for breeding purposes.

Snape, C, snub, also blight.

“Yet tho’ sec bruolliments galwore

Oft snaip’t the whyet of our days.”

Stagg. Auld Lang Syne.

Sneck, C, latch.

“The Buckabank chaps are reet famous sweethearters,

Their kisses just sound like the sneck of a yett.”

Anderson. Bleckell Murry-Neet.

Sneck-posset, C. When a man has the door shut in his face, figuratively or literally, he gets a sneck-posset.

“Glooar’d at me a bit, an’ than clyash’t dewar i mi feeace——He g’e ma a faer sneck-posset.”

Rev. T. Clarke, Johnny Shippard.

Snell, S, cold and cutting.

“There cam’ a wind oot o’ the north,

A sharp wind and a snell.”

Ballad—Young Tamlane.

Snirrup, or Snirp, C, to curl up the nose, etc.

“As seun as she fund I depended on labour,

She snirp’t up her nose an’ nae mair leuk’t at me.”

Anderson. The Lasses o’ Carel.

Snirt, or Snurl, C, the sound of imperfectly suppressed laughter.

“But seckan toke! nin could tell what aboot,

I stop’t my lugs for fear o’ snurtin’ oot.”

Graham. Gwordie and Will.

Snod, S and C, smooth, neat.

“Her cockermonie snoddit up fu’ sleek,

Her haffet locks hung wavin’ owre her cheek.”

Ramsay. The Gentle Shepherd.

“You’re making this road rough!” “Ey, but we’ll mak it snod afoor we’re deun wi’ ’t.”

Reply of the road surveyor at Hawkshead.

Snowk, C, to snuffle audibly.

”Snowkin’ like pigs at a sew.”—Common saying.

Snug (as a verb), C, to nestle.

“We snugg’t in togidder.”—Ibid.

Sonsie, S, comfortable looking, also lucky.

“Tall and sonsie, frank and free,

Lo’ed by a’, an’ dear to me.”

Lady Nairne. Kind Robin lo’es me.

“Whistlin’ maids an’ crawin’ hens are no sonsie.“—Proverb.

Sorn, S, to live on others, to sponge.

“Sornan frae place to place,

As scrimp o’ mainners as o’ sense or grace.”

Ramsay. The Gentle Shepherd.

Souch, S, the sound of gentle wind or breath.

“Hark how the westlin’ win’ souchs through the reeds.”

Ibid.

Spang-hew, S and C, to fling to the winds.

Spang-hewing is a cruel mode practised by school-boys of putting birds, frogs, etc., to death. A stick is laid across a block, the victim placed on one end and the other struck sharply, throwing the poor animal high into the air, killing, and generally, mutilating it.

Spats, S and C, abbrev. of spatterdashes—gaiters.

“Their stumps, erst used to philabegs,

Are dight in spatterdashes.”

Ferguson. Leith Races.

Speel, S, climb.

“Monie a time,

Wi’ you I’ve speel’d the braes o’ rhyme.”

Ferguson. My Auld Breeks.

Speir, S, ask, enquire.

“A feul may speir mair questions than a doctor can answer.”

Proverb.

Spretty, S, covered with Sprett, a kind of coarse grass.

“Till spretty knowes wad rair’t an’ risket

An’ slypet owre.”

Burns. The Auld Mare Maggie.

Sprogue, C, a pleasure ramble.

“I’ve been to t’ top o’ Knock Murton.” “What took ye there?” “I just went for a sprogue!”

Part of a conversation in Arlecdon.

Squab, C, a long low seat with a back.

“Sit on t’ squab till I bring ye summat to sup on.”—Said to me once when I reached a farm house exhausted from struggling through a snow storm.

Stammer, or Stummer, C, to stumble.

“Oft wittingly I stummer’t, oft I fell.”

Relph. Kursty and Peggy.

’Statesman, C, landed proprietor—Estatesman.

“It is a bonnie job, if gentlemen an’ gentlemen’s servants is to ower-ride us steàts fooak.”

Said by an old lady at Coniston after a vestry meeting.

Stayvel, or Stayver, S and C, to walk in a listless manner.

“Ther was hundreds o’ fwoke stayvelan aboot.”

Ritson. The Borrowdale Letter.

Stoore, S and C, dust.

“This day the kirk kicks up a stoore.”

Burns. The Ordination.

“The Bible ligs stoory abeun the door heid.”

Anderson. Caleb Crosby.

Stound, S and C, ache or pang.

“An’ aye the stound, the deidly wound.

Cam frae her e’en sae lovely blue.”

Burns. A waefu’ gate yestreen.

“It stoundit sare, an’ sare it swell’d.”

Relph. After Theocritus.

Straddel’t, C, brought to a stand.

“I think oald P—— was varra nār straddel’t iv his sarmon.”

Heard at the door of a Wesleyan chapel after service.

Sumph, S and C, a fool.

“An’ onie sumph that keeps up spite,

In conscience I abhor him.”

Rev. J. Skinner. Tullochgorum.

“I sit like a sumph, nea mair mysel’.”

Anderson. Barbary Bell.

Swap, S and C, exchange.

“I trowe we swappit for the worse,

Ga’e the boot an’ better horse.”

Song—Carle an’ the King come.

“Lal Sim’s geane an’ swapp’d the black cowt.”

Anderson. Nichol the Newsmonger.

Swat, C, sit down, squat.

“Come, Cuddy, swat an’ tak’ a whiff.”

Anderson. The Cram.

Sweir, S, loath, unwilling.

“Forsooth they cried, anither gill.

For sweir we’re aye to gang awa’.”

Mac Phail. Song.

T.

Taggelt, C, a scamp.

“He mud know they wor o’ arrant taggelts an’ taistrels.”

Rev. T. Clarke. Johnny Shippard.

Taistrel, C, a good for nothing.

“Yae son proved a taistrel an’ brak up i’ Lunnon.”

Anderson. The Twee Auld Men.

Taws, S, a strap of thick leather slit into several tails; an implement of punishment in Scottish schools.

“Never use the taws when a gloom ’ill do the turn.”

Proverb.

Tawtie, or Tawtit, S, roughly matted (applied to hair or wool).

“Nae tautit tyke, though ne’er sae duddy.”

Burns. The Twa Dogs.

Teem, C; Toom, S, empty, pour out.

“About her lank and all o’er-teemed loins.”

Hamlet.

“And there toom thy brock skin bag.”

Ballad—The Fray of Suport.

Teul, C and S, a bad one (probably from devil).

“Let women deu what gud they can,

Thur wicked teùls ’ill lee.”

Jwohnny and Jenny.

Tew, C, harass, fatigue.

“An’ while they skew’t an’ tew’t an’ swet,

Wi’ monie a weary sidle.”

Mark Lonsdale. The Upshot.

Theek, S, thatch.

“An’ wi’ a lock o’ his yellow hair,

We’ll theek our nest when it blows bare.”

Ballad—The Twa Corbies.

Thir, S; Thur, C, these.

“An’ sad an’ silent was the nicht

That was atween thir twa.”

Ballad—Clark Saunders.

“Thur taxes! thur taxes! Lord help us, Amen!”

Ewan Clark. Ballad.

Thole, S, endure.

“He that has gude crops may thole some thistles.”—Proverb.

Thowless, S and C, soft, inapt.

“Fortune aye favours the active an’ bauld,

But ruins the wooer that’s thowless an’ cauld.”

Ramsay. The Widow.

Threep, S and C, to aver, or argue, insistingly.

“An’ fowk wad threep that she did green

For what wad gar her skirl

An’ skreich some day.”

Ramsay. Christ’s Kirk on the Green.

“Some threep ’at the times ’ill get better.”

Anderson. Carel Fair.

Throssle, C, the thrush.

“The throssle, when cauld winter’s geane,

Aye in our worchet welcomes spring.”

Anderson. The Lass abeun Thirty.

Throughly, C, corpulent.

“Throughly? ey, a gud yard through an’ mair!”

Said of Hannah Page, who sold toffy in Whitehaven.

Thyvel, C, a porridge stick.

“She’ll lick a lean thyvel ’at weds you.”

Said to a poor Schoolmaster at Workington.

Tine, S, lose; Tint, lost.

“Tine thimble, tine thrift.”—Proverb.

“O have ye tint at tournament

Your sword or yet your spear?”

Ballad—The Gay Goss Hawk.

Tip, S and C, a ram.

“She was nae get o’ muirlan’ tips,

Wi’ tawtit ket an’ hairy hips.”

Burns. Puir Maillie.

Tipe, C, to drink off.

“Tipe it up an’ hev anudder.”—Common fuddling invitation.

Toozle, S and C, to rub up, to ruffle or make untidy.

“I ance was abused i’ the kirk

For toozling a lass i’ my daffin.”

Burns. The Jolly Beggars.

Top-sark, C, an over-shirt, generally made of coarse woollen cloth.

“We cannot bed ye o’, but we can lend ye top-sarks.”—Said to a weather-bound party at Cockley Beck in Seathwaite.

Towp, C, capsize.

“The leevin surs! she towp’t her ower

Or yen cud say, ’Od bliss her.”

Mark Lonsdale. The Upshot.

Toytle, C and S, totter.

“Tak care thou doesn’t toytle intil t’ beck.”

Said to a top-heavy neighbour at Branthwaite.

Tryste, S, an appointed meeting, also to appoint a meeting.

“Crack tryste, crack credit.”—Proverb.

“I daurna tryste wi’ you, Willie, I daurna tryste ye here,

But I’ll meet wi’ you in heaven Willie, i’ the spring-time o’ the year.”

Aytoun. Annie’s Tryste.

Tyle, C, to distress, as with pain or fatigue.

“I’s tyled to deeth wid this kurn. I’ve been kurning iver sen mwornin’, an’ I seem as far off butter as iver.”

A farmer’s wife.

U.

Unco, S; Unket, C, strange, remarkable.

“A hungry care’s an unco care.”—Proverb.

“What, is there owte unket i’ your country side?”

Anderson. Bruff Reaces.

Up-bank, C, upwards.

“Till watters run upbank an’ trees they grow down-bank,

We niver can leuk on his marrow agean.”

Anderson. Kit Craffet.

W.

Waistrel, C, an unthrift, a useless fellow.

The late Sergeant Wilkins, in reply to the Court, once defined waistrel, not very accurately, as “something spoiled in the manufacture, and sold at half price in the Lowther Arcade.”

Wale, S, choose, choice.

“For sake o’ gear

Ane wales a wife as he wad buy a mear.”

Ramsay. The Gentle Shepherd.

“The king o’ gude fellows an’ wale o’ auld men.”

Song—Auld Rob Morris.

Wankle, C, weakly, flaccid.

“As wankle as a wet seck.”—Common saying.

Wanter, C, one wanting a wife or husband.

“He leeves aw his leane, but he’s seerly to bleame,

When a wanter like me’s to be hed sa near heame.”

Anderson. Auld Robbie Miller.

Wanwauchtie, S, unable to drink freely (wan, un, and waucht a hearty draught.)

“He’s unco wanwauchtie that scunners at whey.”—Proverb.

War-day, C, work-day—so distinguished from the day of rest.

“She cheerfu’ wrowte her warday wark,

Than sat down at her wheel.”

Rayson. Ann o’ Hethersgill.

Ware, S and C, spend.

“Jockey and Jenny they went to the fair,

Jockey gave Jenny a penny to ware.”

Children’s Rhyme.

Wat, S, know.

“She’s a wise wife that wats her ain weird.”—Proverb.

Waukrife, S, wakeful, or preventing sleep.

“Fleas and a girnin’ wife are waukrife bedfellows.”

Proverb.

Weird, S, fate, destiny.

“After word comes weird, fair fa’ they that ca’ me madam.”

Proverb.

Welch, C, saltless, insipid.

“What foats may poddish hev? They may be sooar, seùty, sodden, an’ savvorless, soat, welsh, brocken, an’ lumpy!”

Common Saying.

Whang, C and S, a strip of leather, a piece cut off anything.

“The mergh o’ his shin bane has run down on his spur leather whang.”

The Fray of Suport.

“Wi’ sweet milk cheese i’ monie a whang.”

Burns. The Holy Fair.

Whick, C, alive, quick.

“Sec fashions I’ll not follow while I’s whick,

Lang as plain grogram and thur locks please Dick.”

Ewan Clark. The Faithful Pair.

Whiles, S, sometimes.

“Wha does the utmost that he can

May whiles do mair.”

Burns. Ep. to Dr. Blacklock.

Whins, C; Whuns, S, furze, gorse.

“When t’ whins is oot o’ blossom kissing’s oot o’ fashion.”

Proverb.

Whunstane, S, a kind of hard dark stone.

“Wha’s ragin’ flame an’ scorchin’ heat

Wad melt the hardest whun-stane.”

Burns. The Holy Fair.

Whuddering, S and C, shuddering or tremulous in sound.

“Whudder awa’ thou bitter, biting blast.”

Mactaggart. Mary Lee’s Lament.

Widderful, C, looking withered or unthriven.

“That barne leuks as widderful as if it was its oan gran’-fadder.”—Said of an unhealthy child.

Wimple, S, to curl and wheel as running water.

“But I’ll big a bower on yon green bank sae bonnie,

That’s laved by the waters o’ Tay wimplin’ clear.”

Song—Bonnie Dundee.

Win, S, to make way, to get to.

“Ye maunna think to win through the world on a feather bed.”—Proverb.

Winnock, S, diminutive of window.

“At yon farmer’s winnock, nichtly,

Still he taks his eerie stan’.”

John Johnstone. Bodkin Ben.

Winsome, S, winning, attractive.

“She is a winsome wee thing,

That sweet wee wife o’ mine.”

Burns. Song.

Wizzent, C, withered, shrunk.

“He keeps a lad’s heart in his wizzent āld skin.”

Stanyan Bigg. Granfadder Jones.

Won, S, to exist, to dwell.

“Kissing has wonn’d i’ the world

Sin ever there were twa.”

Old Song.

Worchet, C, orchard.

“Our meadow sud be a girt worchet,

An’ growe nowte at o’ but big plums.”

Anderson. King Roger.

Wrowke, C, to disturb roughly, or stir up.

“I ola’s liked John, but I cared sa lāl for Grace ’at I cūd ha’ teàn her an’ wrowk’t t’ fire wid her.”

A Cumberland lady, about her children.

Wudde, S, mad.

“I’ve ridden a horse baith wild an’ wudde.”

Ballad—Kinmont Willie.

Wummel, C, to enter in a sinuous manner, as an auger bores.

“He’ll wummel his-sel’ intil t’ creuktest rabbit whoal i’ Siddick.”—Said of a terrier.

Y.

Ya, Yan, C, one; Ae and Yin in Dumfriesshire.

Ya is used when the noun indicated is named—yan, when it is understood; thus—“How many fwoke was theer?” “Yan!” “No’but yan?” “No’but ya man!” Ae and yin are used in the same way. The use of the first is illustrated in the conversation without consonants which is said to have come off in a shop in Dumfries—Customer, referring to some cloth, asks, “A’ ’oo?” Shopman assents, “Ou aye, a’ ’oo!” Customer again, “A’ ae ’oo?” Shopman, “Ou aye, a’ ae ’oo!” That is, “All wool?” “O yes, all wool!” “All one (or the same) wool?” “O yes, all one wool!”

Yabble, C, wealthy (literally, able).

“A varra yabble man i’ heeh life was wantan ta simma.”

Rev. T. Clarke. Johnny Shippard.

Yammer, S and C, to articulate quickly and indistinctly from any feeling.

“Fareweel to the bodies that yammer and prowm.”

Song—Bide ye yet.

“There’s been a lang yammer in t’ papers last week.”

Dickinson. Scallow Beck Boggle.

Yewl, C, to weep.

“A lāl thing mak’s a barne yewl, an’ a lāl thing mak’s it laugh.”—Proverb.

Yoad and Yad, S and C, a mare.

“Frae Tindal-fell twelve pecks she’d bring—

She was a yad fit for a king.”

Anderson. My bonnie black meer’s deed.

Yoke, S and C, to engage with, to set to, to put a horse to a vehicle, etc.

“At length we had a hearty yokin

At sang about.”

Burns. Ep. to Lapraik.

“An’ they yoak’t it ageàn an’ laid at it wi’ t’ whup.”

Dickinson. The Ore Carter’s Wife.

Yowl, S and C, to howl.

“A dog winna yowl an’ ye hit him wi’ a bane.”—Proverb.

GEO: COWARD, PRINTER, 75, SCOTCH STREET, CARLISLE.

---

A LIST OF BOOKS

PUBLISHED BY

GEO: COWARD, CARLISLE.

The SONGS and BALLADS of CUMBERLAND,
to which are added Dialect and other Poems; with Biographical Sketches, Notes, and Glossary. Edited by Sidney Gilpin. With Portrait of Miss Blamire. Small Crown 8vo. Price 7s.

(A New Edition in preparation.)

One of the most interesting collections of poetry which have been lately published is the “Songs and Ballads of Cumberland.” How many people know anything of Miss Blamire? Yet she was the author of that most beautiful and pathetic of ballads beginning, “And ye shall walk in silk attire.” Every one will, therefore, thank the editor for the conscientious way in which he has issued her pieces, and given us some account of her life. It was she, too, who wrote that other beautiful ballad, worthy of Lady Anne Lindsay, “What ails this heart o’ mine?” which, in our opinion, is poetry full of truth and tenderness. Indeed, we should be disposed to look upon it as a critical touchstone, and to say that those who did not like it could not possibly appreciate true poetry.... We can only advise the reader to buy the book, and we feel sure that he, like ourselves, will be thankful to the editor.—Westminster Review.

We like the Cumberland Songs a good deal better than the Lancashire ones which we reviewed a fortnight back. There is more go and more variety in them; the hill-air makes them fresher, and we do not wonder that Mr. Gilpin feels—now he has got “tem put in prent”—

Aw England cannot bang them.

We certainly cannot recollect a better collection.... While the author of “Joe and the Geologist” lives, we shall rest assured that the Cumberland dialect will be well represented in verse as well as prose, though we suppose he cannot love to describe the roaring scenes at weddings and the like that his predecessors witnessed.... The dialect is rich in reduplicated words—in good forms—in old English words; and the volume altogether is one that should find a place on the shelf of every reader of poetry and student of manners, customs, and language.—The Reader.

The truly Cumbrian minstrel towards the close of the last century seems to have approached the Scotch in his pictures of rural courtship, and to have been still greater in his descriptions of weddings, as of some other festivities of a more peculiar character. He had a healthy and robust standard of feminine beauty, and his most riotous mirth was more athletic and less purely alcoholic than that which flourished in Burns’s native soil.—The Spectator.

These Cumberland lyrics—till now scattered—are on the whole well worth the pains spent on their collection. In some cases, as in those of Relph and Miss Blamire, there is evidence of real genius for the ballad or the eclogue; and with respect to other writers, if the poetic feeling be less deep, humour and keen observation are displayed in dealing with the people and customs of a district which, in its lingering primitiveness and time-honored traditions, is richer in materials for fancy and character than regions which lie nearer the metropolis.—The Athenæum.

It is seldom that a book compiled on the local principle contains so much good matter as this collection of the “Songs and Ballads of Cumberland.” In the pathetic vein, Miss Blamire is a host in herself; and the humorous and “character sketches,” as we may call them, by various hands, are more vigorous and picturesque, and less vulgar or coarse, than is at all common in the works of local poets. To some readers the peculiar dialect may be objectionable; but to any one who can read Burns, it need be no stumbling-block to the enjoyment of the varied contents of this elegant and well-arranged volume.... The biographical and other notes are carefully and well written, judiciously informative, and not too long.—Scotsman.

Cumberland has a goodly store of ballads, the natural offspring of her hills and lakes, and fells and “forces,” a wealth of ballad literature, in fact, whereof the Southron in general knows, we fear, but little. Miss Susanna Blamire is a name of celebrity up North, the poetess of Cumberland; and Robert Anderson and many others hold almost equal repute there. Mr. Sidney Gilpin, himself owning a name which has belonged to more than one Cumberland celebrity, has collected and edited a volume of the dialect-songs and ballads, and other specimens of the minstrelsy of his county, and offers it to the appreciation of the English public. The “Songs and Ballads of Cumberland” ought to be a welcome volume to all who can relish the home-spun simple language of a genuine muse of the hills. There is much true and tender poetry in the book, and much rough, natural vigour.—Morning Star.

Cumberland has found in Mr. Sidney Gilpin an able and zealous champion; and the present collection of her Songs and Ballads, though not, perhaps, absolutely exhaustive, will decidedly extend her poetic fame, and no doubt surprise many even among the students of this peculiar lore.—Church and State Review.

---

F. Cap 8vo. Price 2s. 6d., in neat Cloth binding.

MISS BLAMIRE’S SONGS AND POEMS;
together with Songs by her friend Miss Gilpin of Scaleby Castle. With Portrait of Miss Blamire.

She was an anomaly in literature. She had far too modest an opinion of herself; an extreme seldom run into, and sometimes, as in this case, attended like other extremes with disadvantages. We are inclined, however, to think that if we have lost a great deal by her ultra-modesty, we have gained something. Without it, it is questionable whether she would have abandoned herself so entirely to her inclination, and left us those exquisite lyrics which derive their charms from the simple, undisguised thoughts which they contain. The characteristic of her poetry is its simplicity. It is the simplicity of genuine pathos. It enters into all her compositions, and is perhaps pre-eminent in her Scottish songs.

Carlisle Journal, 1842.

In her songs, whether in pure English, or in the Cumbrian or Scottish dialect, she is animated, simple, and tender, often touching a chord which thrills a sympathetic string deep in the reader’s bosom. It may, indeed, be confidently predicted of several of these lyrics, that they will live with the best productions of their age, and longer than many that were at first allowed to rank more highly.—Chambers’ Journal, 1842.

---

F. Cap 8vo. Price 2s., in neat Cloth binding.

ROBERT ANDERSON’S CUMBERLAND BALLADS.

As a portrayer of rustic manners—as a relator of homely incident—as a hander down of ancient customs, and of ways of life fast wearing or worn out—as an exponent of the feelings, tastes, habits, and language of the most interesting class in a most interesting district, and in some other respects, we hold Anderson to be unequalled, not in Cumberland only, but in England. As a description of a long, rapid, and varied succession of scenes—every one a photograph—occurring at a gathering of country people intent upon enjoying themselves in their own uncouth roystering fashion, given in rattling, jingling, regularly irregular rhymes, with a chorus that is of itself a concentration of uproarious fun and revelry, we have never read or heard anything like Anderson’s “Worton Wedding.”—Whitehaven Herald.

---

Just Published, F. Cap 8vo. Price 5s.

POEMS BY MRS. WILSON TWENTYMAN,
of Evening Hill. Dedicated, by permission, to H. W. Longfellow.

---

From the ILLUSTRATED TIMES, November 7th, 1868.

Her verses are occasionally poetical, and always dictated by some fine genuine feeling, which must come home to an honest reader. She does not write about “Men and Women,” as Mrs. Browning calls two of her most beautiful volumes, but about human nature—i.e., our hopes, fears, loves, aspirations, etc., are never personified and put into the dramatic form. The volume consists of short pieces, and the whole domestic morality of them will be fairly appreciated in houses where Longfellow is looked upon as the one poet.

From the CARLISLE EXPRESS, January 8th, 1869.

A spirit of piety and domestic affection permeates all Mrs. Twentyman’s pieces, but she has not yet attained the full power of her art which is to inspire as Nature inspires, by reproducing that which charms the mind. In all probability she has not made this her aim, her poems being the simple and unaffected outflow of pure womanly thought and feeling: the apparent aim of the volume being religious rather than literary.... Mrs. Twentyman’s best efforts are those in which her own experience as a wife and mother have helped her most. There she rises into the region of true poetry, drawing from Life and Nature. “Love’s Inspiration,” in which she evidently speaks of her own wedded life, is an example. “Our Ain Bonnie Bessie” is another flowing from the same fount—sweet, maternal love evidently inspiring the heart of the writer.... We give her a hearty “God-speed,” feeling that all local talent should have its just honour and encouragement. The proper encouragement of local literature generally improves it, and there are cases in which it has eventually called forth gifts of no ordinary power and compass. Sympathy and interest are the special needs of the poet who often cannot sing at all unless prompted to faith in his own powers by some sympathetic friend.

---

Crown 8vo. Price 2s. in extra Cloth binding; or 1s. in neat Paper Cover.

OLD CASTLES: Including Sketches of Carlisle, Corby, and Linstock Castles; with a Poem on Carlisle. By M.S., Author of an Essay on Shakspeare, &c.

From the CARLISLE EXPRESS.

M. S., by her many thoughtful and eloquent contributions to our local literature, has long since become favourably known to a wide circle of readers; and the little volume before us, in which her talents are employed on congenial themes, cannot fail to maintain and extend her reputation. The stirring historical events connected with the ancient Border strongholds she has selected for treatment require something more than the dry details which are all that are presented to us in the ordinary run of guide books to make them properly understood. Adhering strictly to historical truth, she has clothed the dry bones of the past with life; and the various notable actors who have played their part in the old castles, she so well delineates, seem to live and move before us as we read her account of them. Nor do the natural beauties which surround most of our ancient Border keeps lose anything of their rare charm in her hands. Her picture of Corby is, indeed, a prose poem of much beauty. But the gem of the book is the poem on Carlisle—worthily holding the place of honour.... We must now take our leave of this interesting little work. It is one which should be in the hands of every intelligent Cumbrian who cares for the honour of his native county; and the reader who desires to improve these glorious summer days by visiting any of the scenes it so well describes, could find no better companion to take with him.

CARLISLE: GEO. COWARD.

---