“‘Ye s’ part wi’ ’t than,’ said Philipson, as rantin’ mad he rooar’d,
‘I’ll hev that bit o’ land o’ yours, sud yee be ’live or deead.’
An’ Kraster fūnd ’at efter that as if ther was a sooard
’At hed to fo’ when t’ time co’ round, still hingin’ ooer his heead.
“Bit nowte com on’t till t’ Kersmas time, an’ than till āld Co’garth
They went wi’ t’ tudder nebbors, kindly ex’t to t’ Kersmas feeast;
An’ t’ best o’ t’ seeats at t’ sūpper booard, an’ warmest neeuk at t’ hearth
Wer’ theirs, for t’ squire hed ooerder’t ’at they sud be that mitch greac’t.
“Bit seeun they fūnd that Kersmas treeat mud cost ’em parlish dear,
For Philipson pertendit ’at they’d stown a silver cūp,