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XVI. And if he be lost — but to save my soul,
that is all your desire : Do you think that I care for my soul if
my boy be gone to the fire? I have been with God in the dark
go, go, you may leave me alone You never have borne a child
you are just as hard as a stone.
Meä an' thy sister was married, when
Wür it? back-end o’ June, Ten year sin', and wa 'greed as well as a
fiddie i' tune : I could fettle and clump owd booöts and
shoes wi' the best on 'em all, As fer as fro' Thursby thurn hup to
Harmsby and Hutterby Hall. We was busy as beeäs i' the bloom an' as
'appy as 'art could think, An' then the babby wur burn, and then
I taäkes to the drink.
XVII. Madam, I beg your pardon! I think
that you mean to be kind, But I cannot hear what you say for my
Willy's voice in the wind The snow and the sky su bright- he used
but to call in the dark, And he calls to me now from the church
and not from the gibbet for
hark ! Nay — you can hear it yourself - it is
coming -- shaking the walls Willy — the moon's in a cloud - Good
night. I am going. He calls.
An' I wcänt gaäinsaäy it, my lad, thaw
I be hafe shaämed on it now, We could sing a good song at the Plow,
we could sing a good song at the
Plow; Thaw once of a frosty night I slither'd an'
hurted my huck, An' I com'd neck-an'-crop soomtimes
slzäpe down i' the squad an' the
muck: 1 The vowe's aï, pronounced separately though in the closest conjunction, best render the sound of the lor.g i and y in this dialect. But since such words as cruin', daïin', whai, až (I), etc., look awkward except in a page of express phoneties I have thought it better to leave the simple : 298 y, and to trust that my readers will give them the broader pronunciation. • The oo short, as in 'wood.'
THE NORTHERN COBBLER.
WaÄit till our Sally cooms in, fur thou
mun a' sights 1 to tell. Eh, but I be maäin glad to seeä tha sa
'arty an' well.
An' once I fowt wi' the Taäilor
- not hafe ov a man, my lad — Fur he scrawm'd an' scratted my faäce
like a cat, an' it maäde 'cr sa mad That Sally she turn'd a tongue-banger,
an' raäted ma, “Sottin' thy braäins Guzzlin' an' soäkin' an' smoäkin' an'
hawmin' 2 about i' the laänes, Soä sow-droonk that tha doesn not touch
thy 'at to the Squire; An' I looök'd cock-eyed at my noäse an’
I seeäd 'im a-gittin' o' fire; But sin' I wur hallus i' liquor an hallus
as droonk as a king, Foälks' coostom fitted awaäy like a kite
wi' a brokken string.
An' then I minded our Sally sa pratty
an' neät an' sweeät, Straät as a pole an' cleän as a flower fro'
'eäd to feeät: An' then I minded the fust kiss I gied
'er by Thursby thurn; Theer wur a lark a-singin' 'is best of a
Sunday at murn, Couldn't see 'im, we 'eärd 'im a-mountin'
oop ’igher an’’igher, An' then 'e turn'd to the sun, an' 'e
shined like a sparkle o' fire. Doesn't tha see 'im,' she axes, .fur I
can see 'im?' an' I Seeäd nobbut the smile o' the sun as
danced in 'er pratty blue eye; An' I says, “I mun gie tha a kiss,' an'
Sally says 'Noä, thou moänt,' But I gied 'er a kiss, an' then anoother,
an' Sally says 'doänt!'
An' Sally she wesh'd foälks' cloäths to
keep the wolf fro' the door, Eh but the moor she riled me, she druv
me to drink the moor, Fur I fun', when 'er back ww turn'd,
wheer Sally's owd stockin' wur 'id, An' I grabb'd the munny she made, and
I weär'd it o' liquor, I did.
An' when we coom'd into Meeätin', at
fust she wur all in a tew, But, arter, we sing'd the 'ymn togither
like birds on a beugh; An' Muggins 'e preach'd o' Hell-fire an'
the loov o' God fur men, An' then upo' coomin' awaäy Sally gied
me a kiss ov 'ersen.
An one night I cooms 'oäm like a bull
gotten loose at a faäir, An' she wur a-waäitin' fo'mma, an'cryin'
and teärin' 'er 'aäir, An' I tummled athurt the craädle an'
sweär'd as I'd break ivry stick O' furnitur 'ere i’ the 'ouse, an' I gied
our Sally a kick, An' I mash'd the taäbles an' chairs, an'
she an' the babby beäl'c1,3 Fur I knaw'd naw moor what did nor
a mortal beäst o' the feäld.
Heer wur a fall fro' a kiss to a kick like
Saätan as fell Down out o' heaven i Hell-fire -- thaw
theer's naw drinkin' i' Hell; Meä fur to kick our Sally as kep the wolf
fro' the door, All along o' the drink, fur I loov'd 'er
as well as afoor.
An' when I waäked i’ the murnin' I seeäd
that our Sally went laämed Cos' o' the kick as I gied 'er, an' I wur
dreadful ashaämed; An' Sally wur sloomy 4 an' draggie taäild
in an owd turn gown, An' the babby's faäce wurn't wesh'd an'
Sa like a great num-cumpus I blubber'd
awaäy o' the bed • Weänt niver do it naw moor;' an'
Sally looökt up an' she said, • I'll upowd it 1 tha weänt; thou’rt like the rest o' the men,
the 'ole 'ouse hupside down. i Scold. 2 Lounging. 3 Bellowed, cried out.
* Sluggish, out of spirits
1 I'll uphold it.
Thou'll goä sniffin' about the tap till tha
does it agëan. Theer's thy hennemy, man, an' I knaws,
as knaws tha sa well, That, if tha seeäs 'im an’smells 'im tha'll
foller 'im slick into Hell.'
Naäy,' says I, “fur I weänt goä sniffin'
about the tap.' · Weänt tha?' she says, an' mysen I
thowt i' mysen.mayhap.' Noä:' an' I started awaäy like a shot,
an' down to the Hinn, An' I browt what tha seeäs stannin' theer,
yon big black bottle o' gin.
An' some on 'em said it wur watter
I wur chousin' the wife, Fur I couldn't ’owd ’ands off gin, wur it
ncöbut to saäve my life; An' blacksmith 'e strips me the thick or
'is airm, an' 'e shaws it to me, • Feëal thou this! thou can't graw this
pu' watter !' says he. An' Doctor 'e calls o' Sunday an' just as
candles was lit, •Thou inoänt do it,' he says, “tha mun
hreäk ’im off bit by bit.' “Thou'rt but a Methody-man,' says Par
soii, and laäys down 'is 'at, An' 'e 'points to the bottle o' gin, "but I
iespecks tha fur that;' An' Squire, his oän very sen, walks down
fro’ the 'All to see, An' 'e spanks 'is ’and into mine, .fur I
respecks tha,' says 'e; An' coostom ageän draw'd in like a wind
fro’ far an' wide, And browt me the booöts to be cobbled
fro' hase the coontryside.
•That caps owt,' says Sally, an’ saw she
begins to cry, But I puts it inter 'er 'ands an' I says to
'er, ‘Sally,' says I, •Stan’’im theer, i' the naäme o' the Lord
an' the power ov 'is Graäce, Stan' 'im theer fur I'll looök my hennemy
straït i' the faäce, Stan' 'im theer i' the winder, an' let ma
looök at 'im then, 'E sceäms naw moor nor watter, an' 'e's
the Divil's oän sen.'
An' theer 'e stans an' theer 'e shall staa
to my dying daäy; I’a gotien to loov 'im ageän in anoother
kind of a waäy, Proud or 'im, like, my lad, an' I keeäps
'iia cleän an' bright, Loovs 'im, an' roobs 'im, an' doosts 'im,
an' puts 'im back i' the light.
An' I wur down i' tha mouth, couldn't do
naw work an' all, Nasty an’snaggy an'shaäky, an' poonch'd
my 'and wi' the hawl, But she wur
a power o' coomfut, an' sattled 'ersen o'my knee, An' coäxd an' coodled me oop till ageän
I feel'd mysen free.
Wouldn't a pint a' sarved as well as a
quart? Naw doubt: But I liked a bigger feller to fight wi' an'
fowt it out. Fine an' meller 'e mun be by this, if I
cared to taäste, But I moänt, my lad, and I weänt, fur
I'd feäl mysen cleän disgraäced.
An' Sally she tell'd it about, an' foälk
stood a-gawmin'? in' As thaw it wur summat bewitch'd istead
of a quart o' gin;
1 That's beyond everything.
2 Staring vacantly.
An' once I said to the Missis, My lass,
when I cooms to die, Smash the bottle to smithers, the Divil's
in 'im,' said I.
A BALLAD OF THE FLEET.
AT FLORES in the Azores Sir Richard
Grenville lay, And a pinnace, like a flutter'd bird, came
flying from far away: 'Spanish ships of war at sea! we have
sighted fifty-three!' Then sware Lord Thomas Howard :
"'Fore God I am no coward; But I cannot meet them here, for my
ships are out of gear, And the ball my men are sick. I must
fly, but follow quick. We are six ships of the line; can we
fight with fifty-three?'
He had only a hundred seamen to work
the ship and to fight, And he sailed away from Flores till the
Spaniard came in sight, With his huge sea-castles heaving upon
the weather bow. * Shall we fight or shall we fly? Good Sir Richard, tell us now, For to fight is but to die ! There'll be little of us left by the time
this sun be set.' And Sir Richard said again : We be all
good English men. Let us bang these dogs of Seville, the
children of the devil, For I never turn'd my back upon Don or
II. Then spake Sir Richard Grenville: I
know you are no coward; You fly them for a moment to fight with
them again. 1 A pudding made with the first milk of the cow after calving.
Sir Richard spoke and he laugh'd, and
we roar'd a hurrah, and so The little Revenge ran on sheer into the
heart of the foe, With her hundred fighters on deck, and
her ninety sick below;
And while now the great San Philip
hung above us like a cloud Whence the thunderbolt will fall Long and loud, Four galleons drew away From the Spanish fleet that day, And two upon the larboard and two upon
the starboard lay, And the battle-thunder broke from them
But anon the great San Philip, she be
thought herself and went Having that within her womb that had
left her ill content; And the rest they came aboard us, and
they fought us hand to hand, For a dozen times they came with their
pikes and musqueteers, And a dozen times we shook 'em off as a
dog that shakes his ears When he leaps from the water to the land.
And the night went down, and the sun
smiled out far over the summer sea, And the Spanish fleet with broken sides
lay round us all in a ring; But they dared not touch us again, for
they feard that we still could
sting, So they watch'd what the end would be. And we had not fought them in vain, But in perilous plight were we, Seeing forty of our poor hundred were
slain, And half of the rest of us maim'd for life In the crash of the cannonades and the
desperate strife; And the sick men down in the hold were
most of them stark and cold, And the pikes were all broken or bent,
and the powder was all of it spent; And the masts and the rigging were
lying over the side; But Sir Richard cried in his English pride, * We have fought such a hight for a day
and a night
And the sun went down, and the stars
came out far over the summer sea, But never a moment ceased the light of
the one and the fifty-three. Ship after ship, the whole night long,
their high-built galleons came, Ship after ship, the whole night long,
with her battle-thunder and flame;