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

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;