The girt house is a-haunted, night an' day.
JEM.
Aye; I do mind woone winter 'twer a-zaid
The farmer's vo'k could hardly sleep a-bed,
They heärd at night such scuffèns an' such jumpèns,
Such ugly naïses an' such rottlèn thumpèns.
DICK.
Aye, I do mind I heärd his son, young Sammy,
Tell how the chairs did dance an' doors did slammy;
He stood to it—though zome vo'k woulden heed en—