yer jornas ooer Wa’na Scar to Seeathet ye’ll offen aneeuf ha nooatish’t a lot o’ round heeaps o’ steeans strinklet heear an’ theear ooer t’ feeace o’ Bannasyde mooer: an’ if ye leuk inta them fine maps ’at t’ gūverment’s putten owt ye’ll see ’at t’ pleeace ’at’s meeant for Bannasyde has cairns, cairns, cairns dottit o’ ooer ’t. They wor sharp fellows wor t’ surveyors ’at went ooer t’ grund ùt meeak thor maps. Yā lot o’ them com’ efter anudder for iver so many years, sūm wi’ reed cooats an’ sūm wi’out; an’ they teeuk for iver o’ pains wi’ the’r wark. Why, when t’ doctor gat a lile lūmp off àld Geoordie Flimming’ field ùt meeak his-sel’ a bit of a gardin, efter they’d survey’t an’ mizzer’t it, they went o’ ooer t’ grūnd a-fresh, just ùt put it in; an’ theear it is i’ t’ maps, as plain as t’ field its-sel’.
Bit about thor cairns. I mun tell yé ’at when I furst hard o’ them, I cùdn’t meeak end nor side o’ what they cud be, an’ I went tull Rodger Forness ut ex about them. Rodger kna’s meear about sike things nor a deeal o’ fooak; sooa I went tull him, an’ he telt mé ’at cairns was heeaps o’ lilely steeans ’at hed been rais’t ooer t’ graves o’ girt men lang sen, afooer ther was any kirk-garths ut bury t’em in—’at Dunmal Raise is t’ biggest cairn i’ t’ country, an’ ’at it was pilet up ooer a king ’at was kil’t theear. Rodger an’ me hed a gūd laugh togidder ooer t’ Bannasyde cairns, for we beeath kna’t gaily weel how they com to be theear, but we said t’ yan til’t’ tudder, “Let’s hear, an’ see, an’ say nowte.”
Bit howiver, when them ’cute ordnance chaps, as they co’t thersel’s, was teean in wi’ thor heeaps, it’s lile wūnder ’at a gentleman ’at leev’t here—yan Mr. Rowlins, sud ha’ meead his-sel’ cock suer ’at they wor nowder meear nor less nor sooa many lile Dunmal Raises, an’ thowte he wod like ut see what they hed in belā’ t’em; an’ as it wodn’t be like a gentleman ut keep o’ t’ fun till his-sel’, he ex’t a lot of udder gentlemen, frinds o’ his, mainly what parsons, fray about Ooston, ut come an’ see t’ cairns oppen’t, an’ t’ grūnd under t’em groven up, ut finnd out what they cūver’t.
Well! they o’ torn’t up true to t’ day. Ald Billy Bamthet, Tommy Thackra, an’ yan or two meear Cunniston chaps hed been hired ut due t’ wark, an’ away they o’ went, out on Bannasyde, an’ at it they set.
O’ t’ fun ’at they gat, howiver, was a bit of a laugh noos an’ thans at āld Bamthet. He was a queer āld dog was Bamthet, an’ he keep’t exin’ on them o’ manner o’ questions about what they wor laitin on. At ya time he wod say till a parson varra seriously “Irr yé expectin’ ut finnd a Bishop?” at anudder he wod ex t’em if they thowte Moses was buriet theear. Bit nowte’s nowte, whativer may be laitit for! an’ suer aneuf ther’ was nowte ut be fūnd under t’ heeaps o’ steeans.
It was a cāld, sleety, slattery sooart of a day o’ through, but they steeak tull the’r wark like Britons, tull it was turnin’ sooa dark ’at āld Bamthet says “Irr we ut hod at it any lang-er, Mr. Rowlins? Tommy Thackra’s gittin’ terrable teer’t, an’ it’s growan sooa dark ’at we’ll seeùn nit be yable ut say whedder what we may finnd be t’ beeans of a bishop or t’ beeans of a billy-gooat, wi’out ther’s some amang ye ’at knā’s beeans by greeapin’ at ’em.”
Well, they o’ thowte they mud give it up for a bad job. They’d torn’t ooer meear nor a scooer o’ t’ steean heeaps, an’ they hedn’t fūnd sa mich as t’ shin beean of a cracket ut egg ’em on any farder. Sooa Mr. Rowlins tel’t his men ut gidder up the’r hacks an’ the’r speeads an’ things, an’ git away heeam.
As they wor o’ trailin away varra slā’ an’ varra whishtly, down Willy Garnett girt intak’, āld Bamthet sidelt up till amang t’ gentlemen, an’ says, “Now, Mr. Rowlins,” says he, “just tell us what ye thowte was to be fūnd i’ t’ clearin’s o’ t’ Bracken-beds.” “What do you call clearin’s of Bracken-beds, William?” Mr. Rowlins ex’t. “Why! dunnot yè knā,” says Bamthet, “dunnot yè knā ’at t’ farmers mā’s t’ brackens i’ t’ back-end, ut bed the’r beeas’s wi’?” “Of course I know that,” says Mr. Rowlins, “but what has mowing brackens to do with these cairns?” “Due wi’ them?” says t’ tudder, “why, ivery thing ut due wi’ them! How d’yè think the’r leys wad cūm on if t’ cobble steeans wor left liggin howe-strowe amang t’ brackens when they com ut mā’ t’em? They gidder ’em off, to be suer, an’ pile ’em up into t’ heeaps ’at we’ve been wrowkin’ amang o’ t’ day, an’ yee co’ cairns. I reckon cairns is t’ genteel wūrd for t’ clearin’s o’ t’ bracken-beds, bit I niver heer’t ’em co’t cairns afooer, an’ I’ll niver co’ t’em cairns ageean—t’ āld neeam’s reet aneeuf for fellows like me!”
Well, when they heer’t t’is, t’ parsons leeuk’t at t’ gentlemen, an’ t’ gentlemen leeuk’t at t’ parsons, an’ than they leeuk’t t’ yan at t’ tudder o’ round as they steeud, an’ than they brast out wi’ a laugh loud aneeuf ut raise o’ t’ ravens on t’ Bell Crag an’ o’ t’ gleads i’ Buckbarrow. Efter they’d whyeten’t down a bit, Mr. Rowlins says, “Well but, William, why didn’t you tell us this before?” “Nay, nay,” says t’ āld thief, “I wosn’t gā’n ut spoil yer day’s spooart i’ that fashi’n, when ye’d browte yer frinds sa far ut see’t. That wodn’t ha’ been manners!” An’ away down t’ intak’ he went sneeakin an’ sniggerin till Tommy Thackra an’ t’ rist o’ them. But Tommy an’ t’ rist o’ them didn’t snigger back ageean. They o’ growl’t at him, an’ yan o’ them said, “It’s an āld tūrkey! What for cudn’t it hod t’āld tūng on’t till we’d gitten anudder gud day’s weeage or two, an’ plenty ut itt an’ drink wi’t, out o’ t’ clearin’s o’ t’ bracken-beds? T’er’s anew o’ t’em left too ha’ keep’t us gā’n for a week!”