Ballads in the Cumberland dialect by R. Anderson, with notes and a glossary, and a biographical sketch of the author |
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THE WORTON WEDDING. |
 | Ballads in the Cumberland dialect |  |
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THE WORTON WEDDING.
O, sec a weddin Ive been at!
De'il bin, what cap'rin, feghtin, vap'rin!
Priest and clark, and aw gat drunk—
Rare deins there were there:
The Thuirsby lads they fit the best;
The Worton Weavers drank the meast;
But Brough seyde lairds bang'd aw the rest
For braggin o' their gear,
And singin,—Whurry whum, whuddle whum,
Whulty whalty, wha-wha-wha,
And derry dum, diddle dum,
Derry eyden dee.
De'il bin, what cap'rin, feghtin, vap'rin!
Priest and clark, and aw gat drunk—
Rare deins there were there:
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The Worton Weavers drank the meast;
But Brough seyde lairds bang'd aw the rest
For braggin o' their gear,
And singin,—Whurry whum, whuddle whum,
Whulty whalty, wha-wha-wha,
And derry dum, diddle dum,
Derry eyden dee.
Furst helter skelter frae the kurk;
Some off like fire, through dub and mire;
‘De'il tek the hindmost!’ Meer' lad cries—
Suin head owre heels he flew:
‘God speed ye weel!’ the priest rwoar'd out,
‘Or neet we's hae a hearty bout’—
Peer Meer' lad gat a bleaken'd snout—
He'd mickle cause to rue—
It spoil'd his—Whurry whum, &c.
Some off like fire, through dub and mire;
‘De'il tek the hindmost!’ Meer' lad cries—
Suin head owre heels he flew:
‘God speed ye weel!’ the priest rwoar'd out,
‘Or neet we's hae a hearty bout’—
Peer Meer' lad gat a bleaken'd snout—
He'd mickle cause to rue—
It spoil'd his—Whurry whum, &c.
When on the teable furst they set
The butter'd sops, sec greasy chops,
'Tween lug and laggen! oh what fun,
To see them girn and eat!
Then lisping Isbel talk'd sae feyne,
'Twas 'vathly thockin thuth to dine;
‘Theck griveth wark! to eat like thweyne!’
It meade her sick to se'et;
Then we sung—Whurry whum, &c.
The butter'd sops, sec greasy chops,
'Tween lug and laggen! oh what fun,
To see them girn and eat!
Then lisping Isbel talk'd sae feyne,
'Twas 'vathly thockin thuth to dine;
‘Theck griveth wark! to eat like thweyne!’
It meade her sick to se'et;
Then we sung—Whurry whum, &c.
Neist stut'rin Cursty, up he ruse,
Wi' a-a-a, and ba-ba-ba;
He'd kiss Jen Jakes, for aw lang seyne,
And fearfu' wark meade he;
But Cursty, souple gammerstang
Ned Wulson brong his lug a whang;
Then owre he flew, the peets amang,
And grean'd as he wad dee;
But some sang—Whurry whum, &c.
Wi' a-a-a, and ba-ba-ba;
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And fearfu' wark meade he;
But Cursty, souple gammerstang
Ned Wulson brong his lug a whang;
Then owre he flew, the peets amang,
And grean'd as he wad dee;
But some sang—Whurry whum, &c.
Aunt Ester spoil'd the gurdle ceakes,
The speyce left out, was wrang, nae doubt;
Tim Trummel tuik nine cups o' tea,
And fairly capp'd tem aw:
The kiss went roun; but Sally Slee,
When Trummel cleek'd her on his knee,
She dunch'd and punch'd, cried, ‘fuil, let be!’
Then strack him owre the jaw,
And we sung—Whurry whum, &c.
The speyce left out, was wrang, nae doubt;
Tim Trummel tuik nine cups o' tea,
And fairly capp'd tem aw:
The kiss went roun; but Sally Slee,
When Trummel cleek'd her on his knee,
She dunch'd and punch'd, cried, ‘fuil, let be!’
Then strack him owre the jaw,
And we sung—Whurry whum, &c.
Far maist I leugh at Grizzy Brown,
Frae Lunnon town she'd just come down,
In furbelows, and feyne silk gown,
Oh, man, but she was crouse!
Wi' Dick the footman she wad dance,
And ‘wonder'd people could so prance;’
Then curtchey'd as they dui in France
And pautet like a geuse.
While aw sang—Whurry whum, &c.
Frae Lunnon town she'd just come down,
In furbelows, and feyne silk gown,
Oh, man, but she was crouse!
Wi' Dick the footman she wad dance,
And ‘wonder'd people could so prance;’
Then curtchey'd as they dui in France
And pautet like a geuse.
While aw sang—Whurry whum, &c.
Young sour-milk Sawney, on the stuil,
A whornpeype danc'd, and keav'd and pranc'd;
He slipp'd, and brak his left-leg-shin,
And hirpl'd sair about:
Then cocker Wully lap bawk heet,
And in his clogs top teyme did beat;
But Tamer, in her stockin feet,
She bang'd him out and out,
And lilted—Whurry whum, &c.
A whornpeype danc'd, and keav'd and pranc'd;
He slipp'd, and brak his left-leg-shin,
And hirpl'd sair about:
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And in his clogs top teyme did beat;
But Tamer, in her stockin feet,
She bang'd him out and out,
And lilted—Whurry whum, &c.
Now aw began to talk at yence,
O' naigs and kye, and wots and rye,
And laugh'd and jwok'd, and cough'd and smuik'd,
And meade a fearfu' reek;
The furm it brak, and down they fell,
Lang Isaac leam'd auld granny Bell;
They up, and drank het suggar'd yell,
Till monie cudn't speak,
But some sang—whurry whum, &c.
O' naigs and kye, and wots and rye,
And laugh'd and jwok'd, and cough'd and smuik'd,
And meade a fearfu' reek;
The furm it brak, and down they fell,
Lang Isaac leam'd auld granny Bell;
They up, and drank het suggar'd yell,
Till monie cudn't speak,
But some sang—whurry whum, &c.
The breyde she kest up her accounts
In Rachel' lap, then poud her cap;
The parson' wig stuid aw ajy;
The clark sang Andrew Car;
Blin Staig the fiddler, gat a whack,
The bacon fleek fell on his back,
And neist his fiddle stick they brak,
'Twas weel it was nee war,
For he sang—Whurry whum, &c.
In Rachel' lap, then poud her cap;
The parson' wig stuid aw ajy;
The clark sang Andrew Car;
Blin Staig the fiddler, gat a whack,
The bacon fleek fell on his back,
And neist his fiddle stick they brak,
'Twas weel it was nee war,
For he sang—Whurry whum, &c.
Now on the midden some were laid,
Aw havey skavey, and kelavey;
The clogger and the teaylear fit,
Peer Snip gat twee black een:
Dick Wawby he began the fray,
But Jemmy Moffat ran away,
And crap owre head amang the hay,
Fwok say nit varra clean;
Then they sang—Whurry whum, &c.
Aw havey skavey, and kelavey;
The clogger and the teaylear fit,
Peer Snip gat twee black een:
Dick Wawby he began the fray,
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And crap owre head amang the hay,
Fwok say nit varra clean;
Then they sang—Whurry whum, &c.
Neist Windy Wull, o' Wample seyde,
He bang'd them aw, beath girt and smaw;
He flang them east, he flang them west,
And bluidy pates they gat;
To him they wer but caff and san;
He split the teable wi' his han,
But in the dust wi' dancin Dan,
They brunt his Sunday hat;
Then aw sang—Whurry whum, &c.
He bang'd them aw, beath girt and smaw;
He flang them east, he flang them west,
And bluidy pates they gat;
To him they wer but caff and san;
He split the teable wi' his han,
But in the dust wi' dancin Dan,
They brunt his Sunday hat;
Then aw sang—Whurry whum, &c.
The breyde now thowt it time for bed;
Her stocking doff'd, and flang 't quite soft—
It hat Bess Bleane—Wull Webster blush'd,
And luik'd anudder way:
The lads down frae the loft did steal;
The parish howdey, Greacey Peel,
She happ'd her up, aw wish'd her weel,
Then whop'd to meet neist day,
And sing her—Whurry whum, &c.
Her stocking doff'd, and flang 't quite soft—
It hat Bess Bleane—Wull Webster blush'd,
And luik'd anudder way:
The lads down frae the loft did steal;
The parish howdey, Greacey Peel,
She happ'd her up, aw wish'd her weel,
Then whop'd to meet neist day,
And sing her—Whurry whum, &c.
The best on't was, the parson swore
His wig was lost, a crown it cost,
He belsh'd and heccupp'd, in and out.
And said it was'nt fair:
Now day-leet it began to peep,
The breydegruim off to bed did creep,
I trow he waddn't mickle sleep,
But—whist! I'll say nee mair,
Nobbet sing—Whurry whum, whuddle whum,
Whulty, whalty, wha-wha-wha,
And derry dum, diddle dum,
Derry eyden dee.
His wig was lost, a crown it cost,
He belsh'd and heccupp'd, in and out.
And said it was'nt fair:
Now day-leet it began to peep,
The breydegruim off to bed did creep,
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But—whist! I'll say nee mair,
Nobbet sing—Whurry whum, whuddle whum,
Whulty, whalty, wha-wha-wha,
And derry dum, diddle dum,
Derry eyden dee.
July 10, 1802.
| Ballads in the Cumberland dialect | |