The Dialect of the West of England; Particularly Somersetshire by James Jennings (ebooks children's books free .TXT) đ
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[The MS. song was never, that I am aware of, discovered after my relativeâs death.âEditor, J. K. J.]] An nif yon hânât a hired oâ her, You zumtime sholl vor sartin.
âLuck, Luck in tha Bag!â TOM, cried âPut in and try yer fortin; Come try yer luck in tha lucky bag; Youâll git a prize vor sartin.
All prizes, norra blank, Norra blank, âll prizes! A waiterâknifeâor scissis sheerâ A splat oâ pinsâput in my dear!â Whitechapel nills âll sizes.
Luck, Luck in tha Bag!âonly a penny vor a venterâyou mid get, a-ma-be, a girt prizeâa Rawman waiter!âI can avoord it as cheep as thic that stawl itâI a bote it ta trust, an niver intend to pâ vorât. Luck, Luck in tha bag! âll prizes; norra blank!
Luck, Luck in tha Bag! Good Luck! Put in an try yer fortin; Come, try yer luck in tha lucky bag! Youâll git a prize vor sartin.
Come, niver mine tha singlesticks, Tha whoppin or tha stickler, You dwonât want now a brawken head, âNor jitchy zoort oâ tickler!
Now Lady! yer prize isââA SNUFF-BOX,â A treble-japannâd Pontypool! Youâll shower come again ta my luck in tha bag, Or niver trust meâTOMMY GOOL.
Luck, Luck in tha bag! Good Luck! Put in an try yer fortin; Come, try yer luck in tha lucky bag! Youâll git a prize for sartin!
TEDDY BAND.
âThe short and simple annals of the poor.â GRAY.
Miss Hanson to Miss Mortimer. Ashcot, July 21st.
My Dear Jane.
Will you do me the favour to amuse yourself and your friends with the enclosed epistle? it is certainly an originalâwritten in the dialect of the County. You will easily understand it, and, I do not doubt, the âmorilâ too.
Edward Band, or as he is more commonly called here, Teddy Band, is a poor, but honest and industrious cottager, but I am, nevertheless, disposed to think that âif ignorance is bliss, âtis folly to be wise.â
My dear Jane, affectionately yours,
MARIA HANSON.
Teddy Band to Miss Hanson.
Mâm,
I da thenk youâll smile at theeäzam here veo lains that I write ta you, bin I be naw scholard; vor vather coudân avoord ta put I ta school. Bit nif youâll vorgee me vor my bauldniss, a-mâ-be, I mid not be afeard ta zâ zummet ta you that you, mâm yourzell mid like ta hire. Bit how be I ta knaw that? I knaw that you be a goodhorted Lady, an da like ta zee poor vawk well-at-eased an happy. You axt I tother dâ ta zing a zong: now I dwont much like zum oâ thâ zongs that I hired thic night at squire Reevsâs when we made an end oâ Hâ-corrin: vor, zim ta I, there war naw moril to âem. I like zongs wiâ a moril to âem. Tha nawtes, ta be shower, war zât anow, bit, vor âll that, I war looking vor tha moril, mâm. Zo, when I cumâd whim, I tawld our Pall, that you axt I ta zing: an I war zorry âterward that I didân, bin you be âlways zo desperd good ta poor vowk. Bit I thawt, a-mâ-be, you mid be angry wiâ my country lidden. Why Teddy, zed Pall, dwontye zend Miss Hanson thic zong which ye made yerzel; I thenk ther is a moril in thic. An zo, mâm, nif you please, I a zent tha zong. I haup youâll vorgee me.
Mâm, your humble sarvant,
TEDDY BAND.
ZONG.
I have a cot oâ Cobwâll Roun which tha ivy clims; My Pally at tha night-vâll Er crappin viĂŤr trims.
A comin vrom tha plow-veel I zee tha blankers rise, Wiâ blue smauk cloudy curlin, An whivering up tha skies.
When tha winter wines be crousty, An snaws dreav vast along, I hurry whimâtha door tine, An cheer er wiâ a zong.
When spreng, adresst in tutties, Câlls âll tha birds abroad; An wrans an robin-riddicks, Tell âll the cares oâ God,
I zit bezides my cot-door After my work is done, While Pally, bizzy knittin, Looks at tha zottin zun.
When zummertime is passin, An narras dâs be vine, I drenk tha sporklin cider, An wish naw wither wine.
How zweet tha smill oâ clawver, How zweet tha smill oâ hâ; How zweet is haulsom labour, ^ Bit zweeter Pall than thâ.
An who dâye thenk I envy?â Tha nawbles oâ tha land? Thâ canât be moor than happy, An that is Teddy Band.
Mister Ginnins;
I a red thic ballet oâ yourn called Fanny Fear, an, zim ta I, thereâs naw moril to it. Nif zaw be you da thenk zo well oât, Iâll gee one.
I dwont want to frunt any ov the gennelmen oâ tha country, bit I âlways a thawt it desperd odd, that dogs should be keept in a kannel, and keept a hungered too, zaw that thâ mid be moor eager to hunt thic poor little theng câlled a hare. I dwonâ naw, bit I da thenk, nif I war a gennelman, that Iâd vine better spoort than huntin; bezides, zim ta I âtis desperd wicked to hunt animals vor oneâs spoort. Now, jitch a horrid blanscue as what happened at Shapick, niver could a bin but vor tha hungry houns. I haup that gennelmen ool thenk oât oten; an when thâ da hire tha yell oâ tha houns thââll not vorgit Fanny Fear; a-mâ-be thâ mid be zummet tha wiser an better vorât; Iâm shower jitch a storry desarves ta be remimbered. This is the moril.
I am, sur, your sarvant,
TEDDY BAND.
THE CHURCHWARDEN.
Upon a time, naw matter whaur, Jitch plazen there be many a scaur In Zummerzetâs girt gorden; (Ive hirâd âtwar handy ta tha zea, Not vur vrom whaur tha zantots be) There livâd a young churchwarden.
A zimâd delighted when put in. An zaw a thawt a ood begin Ta do hiz office duly: Bit zum oâm, girt vawk in ther wââ Tha Porish oâten câlled,âa girt bell sheep Or two that lead the rest an quiet keepâ Put vooäth ther hons iz coose to stâ, Which made en quite unruly.
A went, of coose, ta Visitâtion Ta be sworn in;âan than âtwar nâtion Hord that a man his power should doubt,â An moorâta try ta turn en out! âNaw, Naw!â exclaimâd our young churchwarden, I dwonât care vor ye âll a copper varden!â
Tha church war durty.âWevets here Hangâd danglin vrom tha ruf; an there Tha plaisterin shawâd a crazy wâll;
Tha âltar-piece war dim and dowsty too, That Peterâs maricle thâ scase cood view. Tha Ten Commandments nawbody cood rade; [Footnote: Read] Tha Lordâs Prayer ad nuthin inât bit âBrade;â [Footnote: Bread] Nor had tha Creed A lain or letter parfit, grate or smâll. âTwar time vor zum one ta renew âem âll.
Iâve tawld oâ wevetsâzum oâm odd enow; Thâ lookâd tha colour of a dork dun cow, An like a skin war stratched across tha corners; Tha knitters oâ tha porish tâkâd o knittin Stocking wiâ âem!âBit aw, how unbevittin All tâk like this!âaw fie, tha wicked scorners!
Ta work went tha Churchwarden; wevets tummelâd Down by tha bushel, an tha pride oâ dowst war hummelâd. Tha wâlls once moor lookâd bright. Tha Painter, fags, a war a Plummer An Glazier too, Put vooäth his powers, (His workin made naw little scummer!) In zentences, in flourishes, and flowers. Tha chancel, church and âll lookâd new, An war well suited to avoord delight.
Tha Ten Commandments glitterâd wiâ tha vornish; Compleat now, tha Lordâs Prayer, what cood tornish.
As vor tha Creed âtwar made bran new Vrom top ta bottom; I tell ye true! Tha âltar piece wiâ Peter war now naw libel Upon tha church, Which booäth athin an, tower an all, athout Lookâd like a well-dressed maid in pride about; Tha walls rejâicâd wiâ texts took vrom tha Bible. Bit vor all that, thâ left en in tha lurch; I bag your pardon. I mean, of âll tha expense thâ oodân pâ a varden.
Jitch zweepin, birshin, paintin, scrubbin; Tha tuts ad niver jitch a drubbin; Jitch white-washin and jitch brought gwâin A power of moneyâTha Painterâs bill Made of itzel a pirty pill, Ta zwell which âll oâm tried in vain! Ther stomicks turnâd, ther drawts were norry; [Footnote: Narrow] Jitch gillded pills thâ coodân corry. An when our young churchwarden axâd em why, Thâ laughâd at en, an zed, ther drawts war dry.
Tha keeper oâ tha church war wrong; (Churchwarden still the burden oâ my zong) A should at vust A câllâd a Vestry: vor âtis hord ta trust To Porish generasity; an zaw A voun it: I dwonâ knaw
Whaur or who war his advisers; Zum zed a Lâyer gid en bad advice; A-mâ-be saw; jitch vawk benât always nice. Lâyers oâ advice be seltimes misers Nif thereâs wherewiâ ta pâ; Or, witherwise, good bwye ta Lâyers an tha Lâ.
A Vestry than at last war criedâ A Vestryâs power let noäne derideâ When tha church war auver tha clork balâd out, Aw eese! aw eese! aw eese! All wonderâd what cood be about, An stratchâd ther necks like a vlock oâ geese; Whyâ_ta make a Rate Vor tha churchâs late Repairâtion_. A grate norâtion, A nâtion naise tha nawtice made, About tha cost ta be defrayâd Vor tha churchâs repairâtion.
Tha Vestry met, âll naise an bother; One oodân wait ta hire tha tuther. When thâ war tirâd oâ jitch a gabble, Ta bâl na moor not one war yable, A man, a little zâtenfare, Got up hiz verdi ta delcare. Now Soce, zed he, why we be gwâin Ta meet in Vestry here in vâin.
Letâs come to some determination, An not tâk âll in jitch a fashion. Letâs zee tha âcounts. A snatchâd tha book Vrom tha Churchwarden inât ta look. Tha, book war chainâd clooäse to his wrist; A gid en slily jitch a twist! That the young Churchwarden loud raurâd out, âYouâll break my yarm!âwhat be about?â
Tha man a little zâtenfare, An âll tha Vestry wide did stare! Bit Soce, zed he again, I niver zeed Money brought gwâin zaw bad. What need War ther tha âltar-piece ta titch? What good war paintin, vornishin, an jitch? What good warât vorân ta mend Tha Ten Commandments?âWhy did he Mell oâ tha Lordâs Prayer? Lockyzee! Ther war naw need To mell or make wiâ thic awld Creed. Iâm zorry vorân; eesse zorry as a friend; Bit canât conzent our wherewiâ zaw ta spend,
Thâ âll, wi one accord, At tha little zâtenfareâs word, Agreed, that, not one varden, By Rate, Should be collected vor tha late Repairâtion Of tha church by tha young Churchwarden.
THE FISHERMAN AND THE PLAYERS.
Now who is ther that hanât a hirâd Oâ one young TOM CAME? A Fisherman of Huntspill, An a well-knawn name.
A knawâd much moor oâ fishin Than many vawk bezides; An a knawâd much moor than mooäst about Tha zea an âll tha tides.
A knawâd well how ta make buts, An hullies too an jitch, An up an down tha river whaur Tha best place vor ta pitch.
A knawâd âll about tha stake-hangs Tha zâlmon vor ta catch;â Tha pitchin an tha dippin net,â Tha Slime an tha Mud-Batch. [Footnote: Two islands well known in the River Parret, near its mouth. Several words will be found in this Poem which I have not placed in the Glossary, because they seem too local and technical to deserve a place there: they shall be here explained,
To Pitch, v.n. To fish with a boat and a pitchin-net in a proper position across the current so that the fish may be caught.
Pitchin-net. s. A large triangular net attached to two poles, and used with a boat for the purpose,
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