He’s nobbut hauf rocked ’at believes ivverything, bud he’s cleean oot ov his heead ’at believes nowt. He is only a silly fellow who gives credence to everything he hears, but he is a hopeless idiot who believes in nothing.
Laziness ruins mair lasses ’an love, fancying thersens mair an’ laziness; an’ swallering ivverything ’at a chap sez tiv ’em, mair ’an baith putten tigither. Laziness ruins more girls than love, vanity more than laziness; and believing all that men flatteringly say, more than both put together.
Him ’at ’ez larl an’ could mannish wi’ less, is better off ’an him ’at ’ez mich an’ caan’t mak it fet. He that has little and could manage with less, is better off—richer—than he who has much and cannot make it serve.
Nivver judge a blade byv t’ heft. Never judge a blade or knife by the handle; or, never judge a person’s character by his clothes.
Ya’ll ’a’e t’ crack t’ shells afoor ya can coont t’ kon’ls. You will have to crack the shells before you can count the kernels; or, you must do your work before you can count your wages.
Sho’t ez yan’s tahm is, it’s lang eneeaf foor sum ti ruin ther characters, ther constitutions, an’ gan thruff all ’at tha ’ed at startin’. Short as one’s life is, it is long enough for some to ruin their characters, their constitutions, and ’gan thruff,’ i.e. spend, all they had to commence with.
T’ furrows o’ repentance are ploughed i’ youth, and sow’d wi’ t’ seeds o’ pleasure, bud t’ harvest ’ez ti be reaped wiv a blunt sickle when yan’s back is bent an’ yan’s gitten past wark. The furrows of repentance are ploughed during youth, and sowed with the seeds of pleasure, but the harvest has to be cut with a blunt sickle and gathered in when old age has made it impossible to repair the errors of youth.
Fooak ’at feight ower t’ reet road ti heaven, off’ns finnd oot ’at t’ far end ’at they’ve deean t’ maist o’ ther jo’ney i’ t’ hedge boddums. People who quarrel over creeds and forms discover, when life is drawing to a close, that often they have foolishly left the narrow but sure path, to stumble and struggle amongst the thorns and briars which overhang the ditch by the wayside.
T’ loodist shooters i’ t’ fair off’ns ’ez bud larl o’ ther stalls. The loudest criers in the fair often have the least on their stalls; i.e. those who make the most noise in the world generally display the least common sense.
Muschief is a fruit ’at nobbut needs a sho’t summer ti repen ’t, i.e. Mischief speedily comes to a head.