Ballads in the Cumberland dialect by R. Anderson, with notes and a glossary, and a biographical sketch of the author |
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BURGH RACES. |
 | Ballads in the Cumberland dialect |  |
82
BURGH RACES.
O, Wully! had tou nobbet been at Burgh Races!
It seem'd, lad, as if aw the warl were met;
Some went to be seen, others off for divarsion,
And monie went there a lock money to bet;
The cup was aw siller, and letter'd reet neycely,
A feyne naig they've put on't, forby my lword's neame;
It hods nar a quart, for monie drank out on't,
And open'd their gills till they cu'dn't creep heame.
It seem'd, lad, as if aw the warl were met;
Some went to be seen, others off for divarsion,
And monie went there a lock money to bet;
The cup was aw siller, and letter'd reet neycely,
A feyne naig they've put on't, forby my lword's neame;
It hods nar a quart, for monie drank out on't,
And open'd their gills till they cu'dn't creep heame.
There was, ‘How fens te, Tommy?’—‘What Jwosep! l's gaily:
‘Wey, is there ought unket i' your country seyde
‘Here, landlword! a noggin!’—‘Whea rides the Collector?’
‘What Meason' auld meer can bang aw far and weyde!’
There wur snaps, yell, nuts, ginger-bread, shwort keakes, and brandy,
And tents full o' ham, beef, and nowble veal pye;
There was Greenup wi' a reet and true list o' the horses,
The neames o' the the awners and reyders forby.
‘Wey, is there ought unket i' your country seyde
‘Here, landlword! a noggin!’—‘Whea rides the Collector?’
‘What Meason' auld meer can bang aw far and weyde!’
There wur snaps, yell, nuts, ginger-bread, shwort keakes, and brandy,
And tents full o' ham, beef, and nowble veal pye;
There was Greenup wi' a reet and true list o' the horses,
The neames o' the the awners and reyders forby.
Ere they saddl'd, the gamlers peep'd sair at the horses;
See scrudgin, the fwok were just ready to brust;
Wi' swearin and bettin they meade a sad hay-bay:
‘I'll lig six to four!—‘Done! cum down wi' the dust!’
‘What think ye o' Lawson?’—‘The field for a guinea!’
‘I'll mention the winner! dare onie yen lay?’
Jwohn Blaylock' reed handkitcher wav'd at the dissnens;
At startin, he cried, ‘Yen, twee, three, put away!’
See scrudgin, the fwok were just ready to brust;
83
‘I'll lig six to four!—‘Done! cum down wi' the dust!’
‘What think ye o' Lawson?’—‘The field for a guinea!’
‘I'll mention the winner! dare onie yen lay?’
Jwohn Blaylock' reed handkitcher wav'd at the dissnens;
At startin, he cried, ‘Yen, twee, three, put away!’
They went off leyke leetnin—the auld meer's a topper—
She flew like an arrow, and shew'd tem her tail;
They hugg'd, whupp'd, and spurr'd, but cud niver yence touch her—
The winners they rear'd, and the lwosers turn'd pale;
Peer Lawson gat dissen'd, and sae sud the tudders,
Furst heat was a chase, and the neist a tek-in;
Then some drank their winnins;—but, wofu' disaster,
It rain'd, and the lasses gat wet to the skin.
She flew like an arrow, and shew'd tem her tail;
They hugg'd, whupp'd, and spurr'd, but cud niver yence touch her—
The winners they rear'd, and the lwosers turn'd pale;
Peer Lawson gat dissen'd, and sae sud the tudders,
Furst heat was a chase, and the neist a tek-in;
Then some drank their winnins;—but, wofu' disaster,
It rain'd, and the lasses gat wet to the skin.
Leyke pez in a pot, neist at Sansfield they caper'd,
The lads did the lasses sae kittle and hug;
Young Crosset, i' fettle, had got bran new pumps on,
And brong fisher Jemmy a clink i' the lug;
The lasses they belder'd out, ‘Man thysel, Jemmy!’
His comrades they poud off his cwoat and his sark;
They fit, lugg'd, and lurry'd, aw owre blood and batter,
The landlword com in, and cried, ‘Shem o' sec wark!’
The lads did the lasses sae kittle and hug;
Young Crosset, i' fettle, had got bran new pumps on,
And brong fisher Jemmy a clink i' the lug;
The lasses they belder'd out, ‘Man thysel, Jemmy!’
His comrades they poud off his cwoat and his sark;
84
The landlword com in, and cried, ‘Shem o' sec wark!’
There wur smugglers, excisemen, horse-cowpers, and parsons,
Sat higglety-pigglety, aw fare a-leyke;
And mowdy-warpJacky—ay, man it was funny!—
He meade them aw laugh when he stuck in a creyke.
There were lasses frae Wigton, and Worton, and Banton—
Some o' them gat sweethearts, while others gat neane;
And bairns yet unbworn 'll oft hear o' Burgh Races,
For ne'er mun we see sec a meetin agean.
Sat higglety-pigglety, aw fare a-leyke;
And mowdy-warpJacky—ay, man it was funny!—
He meade them aw laugh when he stuck in a creyke.
There were lasses frae Wigton, and Worton, and Banton—
Some o' them gat sweethearts, while others gat neane;
And bairns yet unbworn 'll oft hear o' Burgh Races,
For ne'er mun we see sec a meetin agean.
May 4, 1804.
| Ballads in the Cumberland dialect | |