“O! Mary Ma-awris!
I was love your sister,
I was love your sister most so well nor you!
And my heart was broken
Like a crochan chinay;[1]
Once that you have broke him, never can put him to!
Never can put him to-o-o!”
Here the audience began to stamp to the tune, and the singer raised his voice yet a little higher.
“O! Mary Ma-awris!
I’m living at Penpulchwyth;
When you come to Merthyr, mind you come to me;
Though I be married
To another ’ooman,
Come in straight, O Mary, an’ never mind for she!
Never moind for she-e-e!
O! Mary Ma-awris!
We will be so happy,
We will be so happy, like a king and queen;
I will mind the farm, and
You shall mind the babies,
And we will be so bewtiful as never before was seen!
As never before was see-e-en!”
Almost as the last long-drawn syllable died away, the door opened and a man came out, who, not noticing Bumpett till he all but fell over him, jumped back with an exclamation. The Pig-driver was taken with a fit of laughter.
“Who be you?” inquired the man, when he had collected his wits.
“’Tis just me, Bumpett o’ Abergavenny, listenin’ to the music. Didn’t expect to find me, did ye? What sort of a feller is that singin’? I can’t mind his voice.”
“Williams o’ Tan-y-bulch. He’s a fine talker too; tells ye as many lies an’ bad words in an hour as I could in a week.”
“And who else?”