But nah a sudden shack tuke place,
A sudden change o’ scene;
Fer miles wheer all wor white afoar,
Wor nah a bottle-green.
Then com a woman donn’d i’ white,
A mantle gert shoo wore;
A nicer lukin’, smarter form
I nivver saw afoar.
Her featers did resemble wun
O’ that kind-hearted lot,
’At’s ivver ready to relieve
The poor man in his cot.
Benevolence wor strongly mark’d
Upon her noble heead;
An’ on her bruhst ye might ha’ read,
“Who dees fer want o’ breead?”
In fact, a kinder-hearted soul
Owd Yorkshire cuddant boast;
An’ who wod feel the least alarmed
Ta talk ta sitch a ghoast?
I didn’t feel at all afraid,
As nearer me shoo drew:
I sed—“Good evening, Mrs. Ghoast,
Hahivver do ye dew?”
Sho nivver seem’d to tak no gawm,
Bud pointed up at t’mooin,
An’ beckon’d me ta follow her
Reight dahn bi t’Wattery Loin.
So on we went, an’ dahn we turn’d,
An’ nawther on us spak;
Bud nah an’ then shoo twined her heead,
Ta see if I’d runn’d back.
At t’last sho stopped and turned arahnd,
An’ luk’d ma fair i’ t’een;
’Twor nah I picked it aght at wunce,
Sho wor no human bein’.
Sho rave a paper fra her bruhst,
Like some long theatre bill;
An’ then shoo sed “Wake mortal,
Will ta read to me this will?