Interjections.
Ech!—exclamation of delight.
Hoity-toity!—what's the matter: from old Norse "hutututu."
Woe-werth!—woe betide.
An Illustration.
A good illustration of Danish terms may be gathered from the following conversation heard by a minister in this county between a poor man on his death-bed and a farmer's wife, who had come to visit him: "Well, John," she said, "when yo' getten theer yo'll may happen see eaur Tummus; and yo'll tell 'im we'n had th' shandry mended, un a new pig-stoye built, un 'at we dun pretty well beawt him." "Beli' me, Meary!" he answered, "dost think at aw's nowt for t' do bo go clumpin' up un deawn t' skoies a seechin' yo're Tummus!" The word "mun" also is in frequent use, and comes from the Danish verb "monne;" the Danish "swiga," to drink in, as "to tak a good swig," and "Heaw he swigged at it!" Many Danish words become purely English, as foul, fowl; kow, cow; fued, food; stued, stood; drown, drown; "forenoun" and "atternoun" became "forenoon" and "afternoon;" stalker, stalker; kok, cock; want, to want.
In popular superstition the races had much in common. The Danish river sprite "Nok," imagined by some to be "Nick," or "Owd Nick," the devil; but properly "Nix," a "brownie." He wore a red cap and teased the peasants who tried to "flit" (Danish "flytter") in order to escape him.
Though we have "Gretan," to weep, it also means to salute or bid farewell, from the Danish "grata." "Give o'er greeting," we hear it said to a crying child. While "greeting" is a popular word of Danish origin, so is "Yuletide" for Christmas, and "Yule Candles," "Yule Cakes," "Yule Log." The word "Tandle" means fire or light, and is given to a hill near Oldham. From this we derive our "Candle." "Lake," to play, is still used in our district, but never heard where Danish words are not prevalent. In the Danish, "Slat" means to slop, and it is said, "He slat the water up and down." A very common participle in Lancashire is "beawn." The Danish "buinn" is "prepared," or "addressed to," or "bound for," as "Weere ar't beawn furt' goo?" In Danish and Lancashire "ling" means heath; but it does not occur in Anglo-Saxon. From the Danish "Snig," to creep, we get "snig," eels.
Locally we also have the name "Rossendale," which covers a large extent of our county. May we not suppose this to be from "rost," a torrent or whirlpool, and "dale," the Danish for valley?
The names of places beginning or ending with "Garth," or "Gaard," shows that the people were settling in "Gaarde" or farms belonging to the chief, earl, or Udaller. With the Danish "Steen," for stone, we have Garston, Garstang, Garton, as well as Garswood and garden.
The Danish having no such sound or dipthong as our "th," must account for the relic of the pronunciation "at" for "that," which is much used in our local dialect, as "It's toime at he were here,"—"at" being the Danish conjunction for "that." The word we use for sprinkling water, to "deg," does not come from the Anglo-Saxon "deagan," which means to dye or tinge with colour, but from "deog" or "deigr." Shakespeare uses the word in the "Tempest," where Prospero says: "When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt." From "Klumbr," a mass or clod, we get "clump," as clump of wood, and "clumpin' clogs." Stowe says, "He brought his wooden shoes or clumpers with him."