[Eastern (Group 3): Norfolk.]

The following extract from “A Norfolk Dialogue” is from a work entitled Erratics by a Sailor, printed anonymously at London in 1800, and written by the Rev. Joshua Larwood, rector of Swanton Morley, near East Dereham. Most of the words are quite familiar to me, as I was curate of East Dereham in 1861-2, and heard the dialect daily. The whole dialogue was reprinted in Nine Specimens of English Dialects; E.D.S., 1895.

The Dialogue was accompanied by “a translation,” as here reprinted. It renders a glossary needless.

Original Vulgar Norfolk.
Narbor Rabbin and Narbor Tibby. 		Translation.
Neighbour Robin and Neighbour Stephen.
R. Tibby, d’ye know how the knacker’s mawther Nutty du? R. Stephen, do you know how the collar-maker’s daughter Ursula is?
T. Why, i’ facks, Rabbin, she’s nation cothy; by Goms, she is so snasty that I think she is will-led. S. Why, in fact, Robin, she is extremely sick; by (obsolete), she is so snarlish, that I think she’s out of her mind.
R. She’s a fate mawther, but ollas in dibles wi’ the knacker and thackster; she is ollas a-ating o’ thapes and dodmans. The fogger sa, she ha the black sap; but the grosher sa, she have an ill dent. R. She’s a clever girl, but always in troubles with the collar-maker and thatcher; she is always eating gooseberries and snails. The man at the chandler’s shop says she has a consumption: but the grocer says she’s out of her senses.
T. Why, ah! tother da she fared stounded: she pluck’d the pur from the back-stock, and copped it agin the balk of the douw-pollar, and barnt it; and then she hulled [it] at the thackster, and hart his weeson, and huckle-bone. There was northing but cadders in the douw-pollar, and no douws: and so, arter she had barnt the balk, and the door-stall, and the plancher, she run into the par-yard, thru the pytle, and then swounded behinn’d a sight o’ gotches o’ beergood. S. Why, aye! the other day she appeared struck mad: she snatched the poker from the back of the stove, and flung it against the beam of the pigeon-house, and burnt it; and then she throwed it at the thatcher, and hurt his throat and hip-bone. There were no pigeons in the pigeon-house, and nothing but jack-daws; and so, after she had burned the beam, and the door-frame and the floor, she ran into the cowyard, through the small field, and fainted behind several pitchers of yeast.
R. Ah, the shummaker told me o’ that rum rig; and his nevvey sa, that the beer-good was fystey; and that Nutty was so swelter’d, that she ha got a pain in spade-bones. The bladethacker wou’d ha gin har some doctor’s gear in a beaker; but he sa she’ll niver moize agin. R. Aye, the shoemaker told me of that comical trick; and his nephew says, that the yeast was musty; and that Ursula [was so] smothered, that she has got a pain in her bones. The thatcher would have given her some doctor’s medicine in a tumbler; but he says, she will never recover.

Notes.—Pronounce du like E. dew. Snasty, pron. snaisty, cross. Fate, fait (cf. E. feat), suitable, clever. Mawther, a young girl; Norw. moder. Dibles: the i is long. Sa, says; ha, have, has; note the absence of final s in the third person singular. Cadder, for caddow; from caa- daw, cawing daw. Douw, for dow, a dove. Par: for parrock, a paddock. Fystey: with long y, from foist, a fusty smell. Sweltered, over-heated, in profuse perspiration. Moize, thrive, mend.

[Western (Group 1): S.W. Shropshire.]

The following specimen is given in Miss Jackson’s Shropshire Word-book, London, 1879, p. xciv. It describes how Betty Andrews, of Pulverbatch, rescued her little son, who had fallen into the brook.

I ’eärd a scrike, ma’am, an’ I run, an’ theer I sid Frank ’ad pecked i’ the bruck an’ douked under an’ wuz drowndin’, an’ I jumped after ’im an’ got ’out on ’im an’ lugged ’im on to the bonk all sludge, an’ I got ’im wham afore our Sam comen in—a good job it wuz for Sam as ’e wunna theer an’ as Frank wunna drownded, for if ’e ’ad bin I should ’a’ tore our Sam all to winder-rags, an’ then ’e ’d a bin djed an’ Frank drownded an’ I should a bin ’anged. I toud Sam wen ’e tŏŏk the ’ouse as I didna like it.—“Bless the wench,” ’e sed, “what’n’ee want? Theer’s a tidy ’ouse an’ a good garden an’ a run for the pig.” “Aye,” I sed, “an’ a good bruck for the childern to peck in;” so if Frank ’ad bin drownded I should a bin the djeth uv our Sam. I wuz that frittened, ma’am, that I didna spake for a nour after I got wham, an’ Sam sed as ’e ’adna sid me quiet so lung sence we wun married, an’ that wuz eighteen ’ear.

Notes.—Miss Jackson adds the pronunciation, in glossic notation. There is no sound of initial h. Scrike, shriek; sid, seed, i.e. saw; pecked, pitched, fallen headlong; bruck, brook; douked, ducked; ’out, hold; bonk, bank; wham, home; wunna, was not; winder-rags, shreds; djed, dead; toud, told; what’n’ee, what do you; a nour, an hour; sid, seen; lung, long; wun, were.