It happ'd on a dork an wintry night,
Tha stormy wine a blawin;
Tha houns made a naise an a dismal yell;
Jitch as zum vawk zâ da death vaurtell,
The cattle loud war lawin.
Tha hunsman wâkid an down a went;
A thawt ta keep 'em quiet;
A niver stopped izzel ta dress,
Bit a went in iz shirt vor readiness
A voun a dirdful riot.
Bit âll thic night a did not come back;
All night tha dogs did raur;
In tha mornin thâ look'd on tha kannel stwons
An zeed 'em cover'd wi' gaur an bwons,
The vlesh âll vrom 'em a taur.
His head war left—the head o' Jan
Who lov'd hiz Fanny za well;
An a bizzy gossip, as gossips be
Who've work o' ther awn bit vrom it vlee,
To Fanny went ta tell.
She hirn'd, she vleed ta meet tha man
Who corr'd er dear Jan's head:
An when she zeed en âll blood an gaur,
She drapp'd down speechless jist avaur,
As thauf she had bin dead.
Poor Fanny com'd ta erzel again,
Bit her senses left her vor iver!
An all she zed, ba dâ or night—
Vor sleep it left her eye-lids quite—
War, "why did he goo in the cawld ta shiver?—
Niver, O Jan! sholl I zee the, niver!"
[Footnote: See a letter by Edward Band, on this subject, in the prose pieces.]
JERRRY NUTTY; OR THE MAN OF MORK.
Awa wi' âll yer tales o' grief,
An dismal storry writin;
A mâ-be zumthin I mâ zing
Ool be as much delightin.