Ballads in the Cumberland dialect by R. Anderson, with notes and a glossary, and a biographical sketch of the author |
GWORDIE GILL. |
Ballads in the Cumberland dialect | ||
GWORDIE GILL.
Of aw the lads I see or ken,
There's yen I like abuin the rest;
He's neycer in his war day duds,
Than others donn'd in aw their best.
A bodys' heart's a body's awn,
And they may gi'e't to whea they will;
Had I got ten where I ha'e neane,
I'd gi'e them aw to Gwordie Gill.
There's yen I like abuin the rest;
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Than others donn'd in aw their best.
A bodys' heart's a body's awn,
And they may gi'e't to whea they will;
Had I got ten where I ha'e neane,
I'd gi'e them aw to Gwordie Gill.
Whea was't that brak our landlword' garth,
For me, when bairns we went to schuil?
Whea was't durst venture mid-thie deep,
To get my clog out o' the puil?
And when the filly flang me off,
And lang and lang I laid sae ill,
Whea was't gowl'd owre me day and neet,
And wish'd me weel? 'Twas Gwordie Gill.
For me, when bairns we went to schuil?
Whea was't durst venture mid-thie deep,
To get my clog out o' the puil?
And when the filly flang me off,
And lang and lang I laid sae ill,
Whea was't gowl'd owre me day and neet,
And wish'd me weel? 'Twas Gwordie Gill.
Oft mounted on his lang-tail'd naig,
Wi' seyne new buits up till his knee,
The laird's daft son leets i' the faul,
And keaves as he wad wurry me;
Tho' fadder, mudder, uncle tui.
To wed this maz'lin teaze me still,
I hear of aw his lan and brass,
But oft steal out to Gwordie Gill.
Wi' seyne new buits up till his knee,
The laird's daft son leets i' the faul,
And keaves as he wad wurry me;
Tho' fadder, mudder, uncle tui.
To wed this maz'lin teaze me still,
I hear of aw his lan and brass,
But oft steal out to Gwordie Gill.
Frae Carel cousin Fanny com,
And brong her whey-feac'd sweetheart down,
Wi' sark-neck stuck abuin his lugs,
A peer clipt dimment frae the town:
He minc'd and talk'd, and skipp'd and walk'd,
But tir'd a gang in up the hill,
And luik'd as pale as onie corp,
Compar'd to rwosie Gwordie Gill.
And brong her whey-feac'd sweetheart down,
Wi' sark-neck stuck abuin his lugs,
A peer clipt dimment frae the town:
He minc'd and talk'd, and skipp'd and walk'd,
But tir'd a gang in up the hill,
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Compar'd to rwosie Gwordie Gill.
My Gwordie's whussle weel I ken,
Lang ere we meet, the darkest neet;
And when he lilts and sings skewball,
Nit playhouse music's hawf sae sweet.
A body's heart's a body's awn,
And they may gi'e't to whea they will;
I yence had yen, now I ha'e neane,
For it belangs to Gwordie Gill.
Lang ere we meet, the darkest neet;
And when he lilts and sings skewball,
Nit playhouse music's hawf sae sweet.
A body's heart's a body's awn,
And they may gi'e't to whea they will;
I yence had yen, now I ha'e neane,
For it belangs to Gwordie Gill.
February 10, 1804.
Ballads in the Cumberland dialect | ||