An’ efter all mah langing hoap,
Ti finnd Ah’d gitten nowt bud soap.
Ya tumm’l teea ’t; Ah needn’t saay,
Sum stuff they’d made foor t’ weshing daay.
B——.
A SPECIMEN OF YORKSHIRE FOLK-SPEECH, AS SPOKEN IN THE NORTH RIDING.
A Sketch. One of the ‘Waddleton’ series, by the Author.
Mrs. Waddleton goes to Stockton Races, and her friend Mrs. Bubbles is told all about it.
Sit tha doon, Mary, an’ Ah’ll tell tha all aboot it reet awaay fra t’ starting. It war leyke this, thoo knaws. Ah sed tiv oor John yah daay when he cam in; Ah sez tiv him, ‘Noo, then!’ an’ he sez ti ma, ‘Noo, then!’ An’ Ah sed, ‘Whya, noo, Ah’ll tell tha what; what diz ta think if wa gan ti Stockton Races?’ An’ he sez, ‘Wha, Ah s’u’d think ’at wa war daft—that’s what Ah s’u’d think.’ Ah seed ’at he war t’ wrang sahd oot, an’ seea Ah sed nowt neea mair just then. Bud bliss yer leyfe, Ah ’evn’t been wed tiv a man fahve an’ twenty year nut ti knaw t’ reet end o’ yan, ez a body might saay; seea Ah let things bahd whahl he cam intiv his supper, an’ Ah’ gat him a neyce bit o’ liver an’ bacon riddy. Ah seed him soffen t’ minit ’at he clapp’d his een on ’t. Bud, what! ya can ommaist awlus tattle onny man thruff his stomach. Ah waited a larl bit, whahl he’d gitten a mouth or tweea full, an’ then Ah sat ma doon on t’ cheer-airm, an’ started ti git ower him wi’ mah au’d cunnin’ waays, leyke what Ah used ti deea i’ daays geean by. Ah put mah airm roond his neck, an’ sed, ‘Noo, that’s a bit o’ neyce, isn’t it?’ An’ he sez, ‘Aye, lass.’ An’ Ah sed, ‘Aye, it is; ther’s neeabody else wad ’a’e bothered to ’a’e gitten tha sike a neyce bit o’ supper riddy.’ An’ then Ah ran mah fingers thruff his hair. ‘Neea,’ sez he, ’ther’s nut.’ An’ then efter a bit, he sez, ‘Ah’ll tell tha what, lass; if thoo wants ti gan ti t’ races, whya, what, Ah s’all ’a’e ti tak tha.’ ‘Nut if ya doan’t want ti go, mah luv,’ sez Ah. Bud Ah maad up mah mahnd ’at he s’u’dn’t back oot on ’t then. ‘Bud Ah’ll tell tha what,’ sez Ah, ‘if thoo wants ti gan, Ah’ll gan wi’ tha.’ Thoo knaws it’s best foor t’ men ti deea ez t’ weyfe wants ’em at t’ fo’st, acoz thoo knaws wa awlus deea git wer awn way owther thruff t’ yat or ower t’ hedge. Bud ez he’d sattled ti gan, theer war nowt neea mair ti saay aboot it. An’ seea when t’ morning cam, wa gat up a bit seeaner, an’ set off foor Guisborough Station—ma, Sairy Jane, an’ Jimmey, an’ oor John, wi’ t’ ten pund ’at mah aunt Martha ’ed left uz ti buy a bit o’ betterly furniter wi’.
Weel, thoo knaws, when wa gat ti t’ station, oho—oo! Ah think ’at Ah nivver war i’ sike a hubbleshoe i’ all mah leyfe. Ah sed ti Sairy Jane, ‘Noo, thoo mun tak ho’d, an’ keep ho’d o’ thi feyther’s coat-taal; an’ thoo, Jimmey, lig ho’d o’ mah sket, an’ see ’at nowther on ya leeaves go whahl wa’re all safely inti t’ carridge.’ Wa ’ed nobbut been studden that waay hauf a minit, when oor Sairy Jane let oot t’ gertest skrike ’at Ah’ve ivver heeard; an’ when Ah leeaked roond, if sha warn’t i’ the cruel clutch ov a bobby. ‘Noo, then,’ sez Ah, ‘what’s up wi’ t’ lass?’