The songs of the Wilsons With a memoir of the Family, and several additional songs never before published. Edited by John Harland |
 |
JONE'S RAMBLE FRO' OWDAM TO KARSYMOOR RACES. |
 | The songs of the Wilsons |  |
JONE'S RAMBLE FRO' OWDAM TO KARSYMOOR RACES.
By Mr Michael Wilson.
Come Dick, an' Nan, an' Davy,
An' sit yo' deawn be me awhoile;
An' Sal, an' Mal, an Lavy, [Levi,]
Aw 'll tell yo' a tale 'll mak yo smoile;
For aw 've just come fro' Karsy Moor,
Wi' uncle Dan and mony moore,
'T wure cover't o'er wi' rich an' poor;
Aw never seed sich seets afoore.
An' sit yo' deawn be me awhoile;
An' Sal, an' Mal, an Lavy, [Levi,]
Aw 'll tell yo' a tale 'll mak yo smoile;
For aw 've just come fro' Karsy Moor,
Wi' uncle Dan and mony moore,
'T wure cover't o'er wi' rich an' poor;
Aw never seed sich seets afoore.
Here “S. and G.”
they 'rn croyink;
Theere 's “Hit meh legs and miss meh pegs;”
Here “yeads and tails” wurn floyink;
And there owd “garter” runs his rigs:
Here 's lottery for cakes and fruit,
And theere teetotum twirls abeawt,
Wi' mony things ot 's miss't; me-theawt,
Sich gams owd Nick ne'er yet fun eawt.
Theere 's “Hit meh legs and miss meh pegs;”
Here “yeads and tails” wurn floyink;
And there owd “garter” runs his rigs:
Here 's lottery for cakes and fruit,
And theere teetotum twirls abeawt,
Wi' mony things ot 's miss't; me-theawt,
Sich gams owd Nick ne'er yet fun eawt.
“Bowl up for barril't soyder,” [cider,]
Loike thunder leawd, they next did croy;
Just then, noant [aunt] Nan, aw spoy'd her
Hoo 'r sellink nuts—“Come, toss or buy.”
Aw 'r gooink t' ash wot hoo did theere,
When uncle Dan bawl't i' meh ear,
“Lets goo un' have a quairt o' beer,
And suster Nan shall have her sheere.”
Loike thunder leawd, they next did croy;
Just then, noant [aunt] Nan, aw spoy'd her
Hoo 'r sellink nuts—“Come, toss or buy.”
13
When uncle Dan bawl't i' meh ear,
“Lets goo un' have a quairt o' beer,
And suster Nan shall have her sheere.”
We strudden't o'er the gorses,
An' went to th' sign o' th' “Mon i' th' Moon,”
An' theere a list o' th' horses,
An' one o' th' spoortink ladies coome;
An' whoile aw'r readink which ud win,
Aw spoy'd owd Punch, wi' his lung chin,
An' his woife Joan wur drubbink him,
“Ecod,” said aw, “we'll o goo in.”
An' went to th' sign o' th' “Mon i' th' Moon,”
An' theere a list o' th' horses,
An' one o' th' spoortink ladies coome;
An' whoile aw'r readink which ud win,
Aw spoy'd owd Punch, wi' his lung chin,
An' his woife Joan wur drubbink him,
“Ecod,” said aw, “we'll o goo in.”
Neaw the stonds begun o-fillink,
“Walk up, walk up,” the owners croy'd;
They ash'd me for a shillink,
Boh aw took me o'er to th' great hill soide.
An' neaw the horses made a start,
Oych mon o' tit-back play'd his part;
It pleast meh to meh vary heart,—
Eawr Doll ne'er went so fast i' th' cart.
“Walk up, walk up,” the owners croy'd;
They ash'd me for a shillink,
Boh aw took me o'er to th' great hill soide.
An' neaw the horses made a start,
Oych mon o' tit-back play'd his part;
It pleast meh to meh vary heart,—
Eawr Doll ne'er went so fast i' th' cart.
Neaw th' horses had done runnink,
An' nowt boh shows wurn laft to see;
Aw 'd seen Punch at th' beginnink,
An' that wurn quoite enuff for me;
So aw bowt plumcakes, fill'd wi' plums,
Mich bigger far nor my two thumbs,
Hot cakes, fruit tarts, and Chelsea buns,
Meh pockets they wurn fill'd wi' crumbs.
An' nowt boh shows wurn laft to see;
Aw 'd seen Punch at th' beginnink,
An' that wurn quoite enuff for me;
So aw bowt plumcakes, fill'd wi' plums,
Mich bigger far nor my two thumbs,
Hot cakes, fruit tarts, and Chelsea buns,
Meh pockets they wurn fill'd wi' crumbs.
14
Noant Nan hoo fell to sellink;
An' uncle Dan to drinkink went;
An' aw begun o' smellink
'Ot they wur noather want nor scant.
For beef an' mutton thick aw spoy'd
An' veul an' ham on every soide,
Me guts croy'd “cubbert;”—“Zouks,” aw croy'd,
“Aw'll sit meh deawn an' stuff meh hoide.”
An' uncle Dan to drinkink went;
An' aw begun o' smellink
'Ot they wur noather want nor scant.
For beef an' mutton thick aw spoy'd
An' veul an' ham on every soide,
Me guts croy'd “cubbert;”—“Zouks,” aw croy'd,
“Aw'll sit meh deawn an' stuff meh hoide.”
Neaw fouk begun o' shiftink,
Aw fun me in a weary cale, [sad case]
Aw scarce could stir for riftink,
Aw 'r grown so fat wi' cakes an' ale:
Boh eh! hew thrunk! one scarce could pass;
Some drunk, some sober, moast beawt brass;
An' some wi' two black een, by th' mass;
Whoile others ley asleep i' th' grass.
Aw fun me in a weary cale, [sad case]
Aw scarce could stir for riftink,
Aw 'r grown so fat wi' cakes an' ale:
Boh eh! hew thrunk! one scarce could pass;
Some drunk, some sober, moast beawt brass;
An' some wi' two black een, by th' mass;
Whoile others ley asleep i' th' grass.
Ot last th' owd gronnam's reachink,
Hoo glendur't [stared] at meh through a ring
An' stearted up a-preachink,—
“Eh, Jone! theaw'rt an ungodly thing.”
Boh when meh story aw did tell,
Her meawth stood woide as eawr six-bell;
“By th' maskins, Jone, theaw'st pleos't meh well,
Ecod, aw 'll goo next yeaar meh-sel.”
Hoo glendur't [stared] at meh through a ring
An' stearted up a-preachink,—
“Eh, Jone! theaw'rt an ungodly thing.”
Boh when meh story aw did tell,
Her meawth stood woide as eawr six-bell;
“By th' maskins, Jone, theaw'st pleos't meh well,
Ecod, aw 'll goo next yeaar meh-sel.”
| The songs of the Wilsons | |