The country people, when speaking naturally, rarely use the aspirate, except as an intensive. Otherwise they have little use for it. And when ‘H’ is preceded by the definite article, they do not drop it in the sense generally understood; the fact is they cannot well sound it, for this reason—the definite article is ‘t’, ‘the[118]’ being but rarely used. They could not say ‘t’ horse,’ ‘t’ house,’ ‘t’ hamper,’ &c.; with them it is, ‘t’ hoss,’ ‘t’ hoos,’ ‘t’ hamper,’ pronounced ‘toss,’ ‘toos,’ ‘tamper.’
‘The horse is yoked,’ ‘the hamper is in the wagon,’ and ‘the whip is under the wheels,’ as spoken, would sound to unfamiliar ears as if the speaker had said ‘toss is yoked,’ ‘tamper’s i’ twagon,’ and ‘twip’s unner tweels.’
The definite article, to those unaccustomed to our folk-speech, seems to be entirely wanting. Certainly before b, m, and n it is only very slightly sounded, and it becomes the merest touch of the tongue against the palate when preceding words commencing with d or t. ‘Shut the door, the bacon and the beans are on the table,’ would sound to a stranger as though the speaker said, ‘Shut deear, bacon an’ beeans is on table’; the speaker having in reality said, ‘Shut t’ deear, t’ bacon an’ t’ beeans is on t’ table.’
To return, however, to the line from Solomon’s Song, given as a specimen of Cleveland dialect. Let us see what the rendering should have been.
Hah am the rose o’ Sharon and the lily o’ the valley.
Ah’s t’ roase o’ Sharon an’ t’ lily o’ t’ valley.
The lower line is North Yorkshire and pure Cleveland, the upper line is said to be so.
It has been remarked that the aspirate is almost unknown—so it is as a letter, but not as an intensive. The aspirate, when misplaced by those speaking naturally, is only used to add greater force. ‘He’s mah henemy foor hivver,’ leaves no doubt that the injury sustained is of an unbridgeable character. Such a sentence, however, holds quite a different place in grammar, too. ‘Hi hallers taike shagar i’ my tea.’ The first example is Yorkshire intensified, minus any adjectives, the first ‘H’ expressing or suggesting some such feeling as implacable, and the ‘hever’ meaning for ever and ever. The latter is the vile and affected speech of the upper circles of Yorkshire flunkeys and maids, who try to improve upon their mother tongue. It holds no place in our folk-speech. It is hateful, and is only indulged in by those of whom the old people say, ‘When they start ti knack an’ scrape ther tungs, what they saay’s nowther nowt na summat,’ i.e. ‘When they begin to talk affectedly, what they say is neither one thing nor another.’
There is one other peculiarity which must be noticed—the possessive case. I should imagine a hundred years ago its disuse was universal in both ridings. My reason for so thinking lies in the fact that in any old books wherein the owners have inscribed their names—and they usually did (books were valued in those days)—the names are never written in the possessive case. It is always ‘Tom Smith book,’ ‘Ann Scott book.’ Even to-day in many places, when speaking, the observance of the case is conspicuous by its absence. E.g. in the Boroughbridge and other districts they would not say ‘Jack Wilson’s dog bit Smith’s calf,’ and ‘Peggy’s cat flew through Nanny’s window,’ but ‘Jack Wilson dog bit Smith cauf,’ and ‘Peggy cat flew throw Nanny window.’ Such sentences as ‘Ho’d t’ hoss heead,’ ‘Pull t’ pig lug,’ and ‘Twist t’ coo tail,’ &c., are still universal in both ridings. The instances in which the possessive is used, and vice versa, are now about equal in the North Riding. The peculiar forms of redundancy are many and curious. ‘Ah nivver at neea tahm sed nowt aboot nowt ti neeabody,’ simply means, ‘I never said anything to any one. I think the following example, which I overheard one Yorkshireman say to another just before the train moved out of Guisborough station, is the finest on record. ‘Whya,’ said he, ‘thoo mun saay what thoo ’ez a mahnd teea, bud think on, thoo knaws, ’at Ah knaw ’at he knaws, ’at thoo knaws ’at Ah knaw, all aboot ivverything ’at’s ivver been deean an’ ‘at’s ivver ta’en pleeace.’ I heard a man say a short time ago, ‘Ah s’ be agate ti git agate ti set agate Tom fo’st thing ti morn at morn’; i.e. ‘Ah s’ be agate,’ I shall be about; ’ti git agate,’ to commence work; ’ti set agate,’ to set Tom to work; ‘fo’st thing ti morn at morn,’ first thing in the morning. Said one to another, ‘Noo Ah’ll tell ya what, hard eneeaf, he war neean ower-suited when he fan oot ’at he’d ’ev ti ’ev ’t ower wi’ ma owther thruff or by. An’ noo when Ah’ve fetched him up ti t’ scrat, he sez ’at he’s putten t’ dog oot o’ t’ road; bud Ah’s satisfied o’ yah thing, t’ dog rave mah britches, an’ Ah s’all leeak ti him ti mak ’em good agaan, foor he ’ez a reet ti owther deea that or ’livver summat up i’ lieu on’t; bud Ah reckon nowt o’ what he sez, an’ that’s t’ len’th on ’t.’ i.e. ‘Noo Ah’ll tell ya what,’ now I assure you; ‘hard eneeaf,’ without doubt; ‘he war neean ower-suited,’ he was not over-pleased; ‘when he fan oot,’ when he discovered; ‘’at he’d ’ev ti ’ev it ower wi’ ma,’ that he would have to talk it over with me; ‘owther thruff or by,’ either one way or the other; ‘an’ noo when Ah’ve fetched him up ti t’ scrat,’ and now when I have made him toe the mark; ‘he sez ’at he’s putten t’ dog oot o’ t’ road,’ he says that he has killed the dog; ‘bud Ah’s satisfied o’ yah thing,’ but I am certain of one thing; ’t’ dog rave mah britches,’ the dog tore my trousers; ‘an’ Ah s’all leeak ti him ti mak ’em good agaan,’ and I shall expect him to replace them; ‘foor he ’ez a reet ti,’ for he ought to; ‘owther deea that or ’livver summat up,’ either do that or give something; ‘i’ lieu on ’t,’ in place of it (them); ‘bud Ah reckon nowt o’ what he sez,’ but I place no confidence in anything he says; ‘an’ that’s t’ len’th on ’t,’ and that is the extent of it.
If the reader masters the abbreviations and elisions facing page 1, the pons asinorum will have been crossed, and the reading of our folk-speech found to be a thing easy of accomplishment and a delightful acquisition.