A Specimen of the Bilsdale Dialect :: :: University of Virginia Library

A Specimen of the Bilsdale Dialect

or, Two Poems on Isaac Telltruth and Sammy Standfast [by John Castillo]

Castillo, John (1792-1845)

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A Tale related by Isaac Telltruth old Protestant, connected with a few particular remarks of his life.

OLD SAMMY;

The Negroe's Complaint.

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A Tale related by Isaac Telltruth old Protestant, connected with a few particular remarks of his life.

BY CASTILLO.

Yah neet as ah went yam fra wark,
A lartle bit befoor t'was dark;
Quite blyth and cheerful as a lark,
Ah thowght mesel;
An sat ma doon te rist a bit,
At top o't' hill.

Fooks just war turning out their ky;—
A lartle plane ode man com by;
Come sit you down good frind, saz I,
An' rist your legs:—
Hede been a bit o' flour te by,
And twea three eggs.—

Ah fand him vara good te stop;
His staff he set up as a prop;
His hory heade he lifted up,
An' thus complaind:—
Sum fragments of a goodlike feace
There still remained.—

You see, sed he, mah dear young frend,
Mah truble's coming tiv an end,
W'iv age me back begins te bend,
An whites' me hair;
Of this warld's grief, ye may depend,
Haave had me share.

His teal, though simple, yet was grand;
An' vara gud te understand;
His stick steead up abown his hand;
T'auld fashend wa;
His cote en hat wur wedder tand,
An' duffil gray.

Ah think, sed ah, et' t'barble ses,
Gray airs is honorable dress,
If they be fund in riteousness,
By fath obtan'd;
An' ah think, be what yer leaks express,
That praze yeave gan'd.

W'iv age it is'nt gud te joak,
An' its ommest hower warm te woke,
Sit doun en hev a bit o' toak,
Of things a'ts past;
Ode men like you, hev seaf beath heerd
An' seen a vast.

Avast ah hev beath heerd an' seen,
And felt misfottunes arrows keen,
As ye remark, wharle I've been
On this life's stage;
It is a vara changing seen
Fra youth tiv age.

How great, an yet how feble's man!
His life at langest t'but a span;—
His histery he thus began

W'iv tears te tell;
An if yer ears be owt like marn
T'will please as well.—

Langsarn ah lost me wife, sed he,
Which was a hevy greef t' me,
An' then me sun teak off tit see,
A farn young man;
An' ah nea mare his feeace mun see,
Its ten t' yan.

Ah happend t' be fra yam ya day,
An' a kind o' sweethart, as they say,
Com in, an' teak mah las away,
An' hoosin stuff;
An' noo, poor thing, shee's deead they say
A lang way off.

Its noo neen yeer an' ganning e' ten,
Sen ah at bark wood joind sum men,
T'was there ah fell an' leamd me'sen,
E' spite o' care;
Ah was foursd t' give up there an' then,
An' work nea mare.

But t'neighbours hes been vary gud,
Or else langsarn ah'd stuck it' mud;
An' seea through them an t'help o' God
Ah gits me breead,
Ah whop theal be rewarded fort,
When ah's gean deead.

Bud seein all me cumforts gean,
Ah dident kno what way t' turn,
Then ah began t' sy an' mourn
Beath neet an' day;
Ah bow't a barble an' began
T' reed an' pray.

An' as ah red, an' as ah prayed,
Ah thowght it thunnerd ower me heead;
An' sumtames ah war sadly flade
W'iv dismal noises;
Sumtames e' bed, ah thowght ah herd
Mystereous voices.

At last a preeacher com this way,
Ah've cose t' iver bles the day,
Karnd providence led me on that way,
This man t' here;
Ah like a sheep had gane astray
For mony a yeear.

He said at t'love o' Christ compeld him;
Bud sean as iver ah beheld him,
Ah thowght at sum karnd frind had teld him
All me hart;
For ivry word, like arrows pointid,
Mead it smart.

Ah thowght, till then, 'at ah wer reet;—
He set me sins all e' me seet,—
At last ah fell doon at his feet

We solled greef;
Ah thowght ah sud be deead, afoore
Ah fand releef.

Ah realy thowght, if you'l beleeve me,
At hell war oppen to receive me;
Sum sed the Lord wad sean releeve me,
He war me keeper;
Bud all they sed did nowt bud greeve me,
An' cut me deeper.

Then vara sean t' repoort war raisd,
An' all around it pleace war bleeazed,
Ode Isaac he war ganning cras'd,
An' nowt se seer;
Mah cottage then, for days an' days,
Nea sowl com neer.

Ah dreeaded th' Almighty's frown,
Ah wander'd greeating up an' doun;
Nather it country ner it town
Nea rist ah fand;
Mah sins like stars did me sorrownd,
Or heaps of sand.

Ah'd thowghts of iverlastin panes,
An bein bund in endless chanes,
Me blead, like ice, ran through me vanes
W'iv shivering dreead;
Ah cudent sleep, an' ah forgat
T' eat me breead.

At last this gud man com agean,
At which me heart war glad an' fane,—
Just like a thirsty land for rane,
Ah sat quite neer him;
While ivery organ o' me soul
War bent t' heer him.

Bud sean as ah that sarmon heard,
A still small voice me sperret cheer'd,
An ah, that varra neet, war meade
A happy man;
To praise the Lord we all me heart
Ah then began.

Ah knew he had me sins forgeen,
Wharle ah had in his presence been,
An' that his blead had meade me cleen,
An' wite as sno;
An' meade me fit we him t' rean,
Wharle hear belo.

Sin that, he all me conflicts heear,
Ah flees t' him be faith an' prayer,
An' he in morsy lens an ear,
Throu his deer Sun;
An' this ist way we hope an' fear
Ah travvils on.

Oft when ah thus draws neer te him,
He maks me ees we tears te swim,
Then fils me hart quite up tit brim

Wit love o' God;
An' when ah gits a bit mare fathe
Ah hods me hod.

Sumtames ah've had yon beck t' swim,
An' mony a'tame this hill te clim,
W'iv hevvy hart, an' weary lim,
An sweaty brow;
Bud all that ah can trust him in,
He helps ma throw'.

In all the strates o' life, sez he,
Hooivver bare me cubbert be;
We' broon breead crusts, or wormwood tea,
Or evan gole;
Whoorivver ah finds Christ t' be,
He sweetens all.

Me nighbours all, ah deerly luv em,
An' oft ahs fours't for te reprove em,
Te seek the Lord ah tries te move em,
We harts sinceer;
Bud t'answers oft at ah gits from em
Is quite seveer.

Ah've oft felt sorry te me sell,
Beath greev'd an' shamd the truth te tell,
When ah hev heeard our ode kirk bell
Ring in te prayer;
Ah's flade at sum al hear't te hell,
Upbrade em there.

Thal'e sit an' lig upon their deead,
An' toak about all karnds o' trade,
An' laf an' lee quite undismayd,
Till they've rung in;
Sike fowks tit warld are owther wed,
Or near a kin.

Sum ses their preest's a stumblin block,
He never leeds em on tit rock;
Like those at mends a ode ragd frock,
Wiv a new peece;
He cares bud lartle for his flock,
If he gits t' fleece.

Bud ours, he is a christion bright,
He preaches Christ wiv all his might,
Fills each beleever we delight,
At gangs te hear him;
An' therefore, of his people's bleead,
The truth el clear him.

Ah've heeard him tell em pat an' plane,
That they mun all be boorne agane,
Or suffer iverlastin pane,
'Et warld te cum;
Bud if they flee te Christ e tame,
For all there's room.

It pulpit, er e' conversation,
He's alwas on for't souls salvation,
Wiv hard reproof, or exhortation,

Or cowncil sweet;
An' these that follow his perswasion,
They will be reet.

There's sum at ses,—but they're mistean—
When they're babtars'd, their boorn agean,
Just heer they mis t' foundation stean,
An' bild on't sand;
An' they've nea dreead till t'house is doon,
Bud it will stand.

Ah's flade ses he, if't truth was known,
There's mony presious sowl owerthrown,
For that gud seed which he hes sown,
Without effect;
Bud t'bleam for ivver is their own,
Throw' sad neglect.

Ah've seen young men an' wimmen tow,
An' men wi't hair all of their brow,
Befoor he's red t'first lesson throw,
S'been hard asleep;
Wharle others, that far better knew,
S'been seen te weep.

They rock an reggle like a ship,
Till sum karnd frend gis' them a nip,
Or wak-end up wit saxton's wip,
Or others coffin;
Then mebby, when they've rubd their een,
They'll start a laffin.

Sum's lived te three or four scoor,
An's lang tame here had rulin poor,
They've worn deep traces cross et moor,
W'iv constant ganning;
Bud stil, all t'wharle, for this warld's love,
Their harts are langing.

Ther selves they've nivver farely seen,
They've nivver knone their sins forgeen,
Tho' mony a tame their prayers hev been,
As loud ast Clark;
For all they've had twea pare of een,
They've deed it dark.

There's sum at name o' christian bears,
An's had this name for mony years,
At's buried ower heead an' ears,
E' worldly care;
An' oft at kirk we've cause te fear,
Their markets there.

When at a sartan house yah day;
T'awd man unto his sun did say
If all be weel thou mun away,
Te moorn tit kirk;
An' try te git our reets next week,
Te cum te wark.

An' Tommy, hees e' sike a tacking,
That cote's all spoild for want a macking;
If't taler's there thou mun be at him,

Te cum an all;
That's weel contrav'd, an' then yah thing
Al' dea for all.

Thou needent stop te gang round t'farm,
Thou'l hev te be there e' gud tame,
Or mebby if thou disent mand,
Thou'l loss thee chance;
There's often mony at him
All at yance.

Its ower far te gang a feeat,
An' if't be warm, thou's seer te sweat,
An' thee mother al' dea nowt bud freeat,
Seea tak ode draggon;
An' tell t'reet, he mun cum next week
Te mend our waggon.

Then if ye chance, it course o't' week,
Ot sunday subject for te speak,
You'l find ode memories se weak,
Its all forgotten:
Thus wounded souls that's been hofe heald
T' awd sarpents bitten.

That skull ats moulded green an' gray,
T' awd saxton dag up t'other day
Knoes varry neer as mich as they,
O't sunday sarman;
You ma as well o't' subject toke,
T' sum ode Jarman.

That poor ode man's noo deead an' gean,
Its hard te say which way he's fean,
At used te stand agane funt stean,
T' tack foaks watches;
Wharle careles lads it singing pew,
War cuttin natches.

For t'want of proper cultivation,
They shuffle on without salvation,
A vast hes fleads of this pursuasion,
Beeath young an ode;
At' te be gud they hev nea cation,
Till deead an' code.

Bud they'll find out befoor t' be lang,
At they all t' tame hev been it rang,
Their cheans may then be ower thrang,
Te breeak or bend;
An' noo they say their ower strang,
They can't attend.

E summer tame they leeave t' awd nest,
An' dress up e their vara best,
An' gallop of alang wit' rest,
T'it fare or races;
A vast gits what they nivver kest,
At sike like places.

There's sum gits there w'iv wooden legs on,
An' mony poor ode men w'iv ings on,
Just sarves t'young soaks te run their rigs on,

A farn example;
Wharle doon it dust their poor ode lims,
Sumtames they trample.

There's sum can nather sit nor lig,
About t' election their so big,
They say their Brittans rump an' rig,
Bud wea can trust em?
When frev a tory tiv a wig,
A glass will twist em.

There's sum that's rather short e seet,
For seak of twea three sovrins breet,
Gis em their vote, an' thinks it reet,
For t' Roman stranger:
Then others plasters up it street
The church's in danger.

An' sea they yan prevent another,
Wiv sike like political bother,
Yet best of all can't save his brother,
Nor ransum him;
That spark at's left they try to smuder,
Wi' stratigem.

As for these Methodies, they say,
They mack sea varra mitch te dea,
There's sum wad dea nowt else bud pray,
An' reed an' preeach;
Till they git all mead methodies,
Within their reach.

Bud there war nean of this amaze,
E mean of our foorfadders days,
Though their gud deeds, an' honest prayers,
An' pious reedings;
Nea dout hes been as gud as their's,
Wiv all their meetings.

Te see em doon o' beath their nees,
It kirk, or field, or under trees,
Wi' broken hart's an' teerful ees,
Was quite uncommon;
An' if at they ant deed it faith,
Then whats cum on em.

Te preach em all gean doon te hell,
It is a dreadful teal te tell,
An' we mun wiv wer kindred dwell;
Sea we like them.
Will tack wer chances, on life's ocean,
Sink or swim.

They mack sike wark amang t' young foaks,
They breeak up all wer joval spourts,
They thin wer ranks, an' storm wer pourts,
Wiv strange confusion;
There's nowght bud we mun cry t' all doon,
A meer delusion.

Bud us et seldom hes attended,
They dean't git us sea easly mended,
An awd stiff yoak's nut easly bended:—

It's varra true;
Bud these at will nut bend, you'll see,
Al break enow.

They trifle on fra yeer te yeer,
Like watches worn out of repare,
Though if they wad, its varra clear,
They mud be mended;
Bud they percieve nea danger neer,
Till life be ended.

Awd sattan sea pollutes their mind,
They winnot stoop tit means desind,
Till t' hair spring gits wet, mane spring twind
Or sea hard curld;
Their foor'st away te git refined,
It tudder world.

He leads sum on like mountebanks,
As stright as if they ran o' planks,
An' tells em e'ther joval pranks,
He'll nut deceive em;
Bud when they reach the gates of death,
Their glories leave em.

There's sum he leads another way,
An' wispers tiv em neet an' day,
At they need nowther reed nor pray,
They've dean nowght rang,
An' if they hev, he'll set it reet
A' foor t' be lang.

There's others oft been in't alarm,
Like Felix, while their hart's was warm,
Ses gang, an' at another tame,
Ah'll send for thee;
Still they that tame, they did'nt know,
May iver see;

They rob their sowl's of their own reet,
They realy winnot cum tit leet,
Lest of their sins they git a seet,
An' sud be saved,
An' be of all their pleasures sweet,
At yance bereaved.

Bud deep sunk doon et burning lake,
They'll then begin te fear an' quake,
When vengance can nea pity take,
Whoor he hes sent em;
For furious fiends of horrid shape,
Mun there torment em.

They'll leak for sum yan te deliver;
Bud there they find nea cumfort nivver,
There they may weep an' wale for iver,
T' harvest's past,
T' summers ended, reffuge fails em,
An' their lost.

Their dreadful doom an' destinee,
Let us git all we can te see,
Be preaching Chirst whare e'er we be,

In deed an' word;
Till all wer friends their folly see,
An' turn te God.

Ah've been it way noo seaven yeer,—
An' as he spack, a briny teer,
Ran doon his cheeks, as crystal cleer,
Fra owther ee;—
An' ah thenk God, ah feel wharle ah sit here,
Its weel we me.

Bud neet is cuming on amain,
An' t' leaks as if twar boon te rain,
Or else me stoury's nut all dean,
At ah've te tell;
Bud mebby we may meet agean,
Till then farewell.

Though he had all these sorrows boorne,
Composur in each feater shone,
Tho' he'd te woak an' live alone,
Fra day te day;
Ah wish'd his case had been me own,
An' com away.