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Original Tales and Ballads in The Yorkshire Dialect.








Condon and f elting-on-ym : 




All Rights Reserved. 








TALE: 'E'o SAID IT! 47 






WER TIDE - 81 


A Kuss - 95 



TALE: T' WOOIN o ELLA - 121 








'E'D SAID IT! - 143 

COVERLA - 144 




WER TIDE - 146 



T 1 WOOIN o ELLA - 153 






THE ancient element of this volume makes necessary the 
statement of the fact that these "Tales and Ballads" are all 
throughout entirely my own original work. My Historical 
Introduction will show the dialect I have written herein, the 
which is known also as Inglis, the language of the Angles, 
and the Northumbrian dialect, spoken to-day in Yorkshire, 
and in early times from South Yorkshire to Aberdeen, is a 
rare and signal inheritance the language of a race pre- 
eminently the English of the English. 

A modern national language is a survival of one or more 
of the several ancient dialects. Neither the language of the 
Saxons of Wessex nor the older language of the early 
English the Angles, whose speech was spoken from 
Aberdeen even down to the Midlands, came to be the 
nationally surviving dialect. The East Midland variety it 
was that survived. Tendency towards the adoption of the 
English now common was manifest in writers as early as 
Chaucer; and literary men being invariably scholars writing 
for those who might understand words of Greek, Latin, and 
French association, their English, even at a time when it 
yet preserved archaic early English forms, gave us a Latinized 
English neither purely Anglian nor Saxon. 

The Yorkshire dialect, which is a survival of Inglis, as 
its Scots writers called the language of the Angles or early 
English, and of what is also known as the Northern dialect, 
owes absolutely nothing of its present oral preservation to 
literary transcriptions. My chapter on the pronunciation 
makes ascertainable the distance Modern English, and the 
Yorkshire dialect as spoken to-day, are from each other, and, 



to quote the words I use elsewhere, we truly perceive that 
"the Yorkshire dialect in which I have written these Tales 
and Ballads is Inglis, the purest of pure English." 

It is therefore from no mere parochial standpoint we 
must view the contents of this volume; hence I am glad 
that even before its publication the book has found welcom- 
ing friends in the leading universities, and in the representa- 
tive libraries of the English-speaking world. 

Yorkshire has several varieties of dialect. I find, however, 
that fundamentally all the Yorkshire dialects are one (indeed, 
the same might be said of all varieties of the Northumbrian), 
and excepting something of accidence, sundry idioms, and 
odd words peculiar to each. A chief distinction is that in 
the North and East Ridings the West Riding vowel sound 
" ooan," as in " stooan," is "eean," as in "steean," etc. 
The ballad I have written entitled "Robin Hood an His 
Merrie Men at come fro t' Ridins Threi," contains five 
distinct Yorkshire dialects. But I must point out that in 
writing each dialect I very often when possible avoided 
accidence, idioms, and words, used identically in all five 
dialects; thus the differentiation of the dialects appears more 
marked than it really is. In this connection I may add in 
the words of Robin Hood in the above-mentioned ballad: 

"I'm Yorksher, goid Sir King ! 
An noan a drop o better blooid 
E'er weet a grey gois wing !" 

I have in my veins the blood of the North West Riding 
folk, of the East Riding seafarers, and of the South West 
Riding folk, as I state particularly in a note on the ballad, 
" Robin Hood an His Merrie Men at come fro t' Ridins 
Threi." I trust therefore that in my selection for my "Tales 
and Ballads in the Yorkshire Dialect," of what scholars call 
the Windhill dialect of Yorkshire, as spoken about Keighley, 
Bradford, and Leeds, I shall not be accused of local senti- 
ment. Very many reasons, the entering into of which is 


here unnecessary, though some may be obvious to the 
reader, make this dialect the most suitable for the presenta- 
tion of the Yorkshire dialect in these "Tales and Ballads." 
The dialect is fast and surely dying- out, and it is well 
thus to endeavour to perpetuate the memory of our ancient 
speech. A happy coincidence is the fact that I have lived 
from my early teens on the top of Windhill itself on Wrose 
Hill, that volcanic-looking bleak hill one sees in Airedale, 
towering above Shipley, north of Bradford; and there I 
learned of the old dialect-speaking folk the purest Windhill 
dialect, of which dialect Professor Joseph Wright wrote an 
excellent work Grammar of the Dialect of Windhill, Hence 
all that can be required in the way of exact knowledge of 
the accidence, etc., and scientific pronunciation of the dialect 
of my "Tales and Ballads," may be discovered in Professor 
Wright's valuable grammar. 

In my chapter on the pronunciation, however, I have not 
at all had in mind the writing of Dr. Wright. Scholars 
therefore will find much interest in the two independent 
testimonies on this beautiful old speech of the North 
Countrei. Where they may differ perhaps neither must be 
blamed as in error. For instance, I think Dr. Wright in 
his Grammar gives " lois " for the present of "lose." 1 
nearly always write " loss," which is often heard here, as 
in the North Riding. In Stannington, a scattered moorland 
parish five miles north of Sheffield, where I lived as a boy, 
I only heard " loise " and never " loss," for the present. But 
I myself seldom hear "loise" used about Bradford and 
Windhill for present "lose"; mostly it is "loss." See my 
note on " Nobbud an Ackren." 

Professor of Comparative Philology in the University of 
Oxford, and Editor of the English Dialect Dictionary, Dr. 
Joseph Wright is a native of Windhill, near Bradford, and 
can himself speak the dialect. It may be well, therefore, to 
state herewith that on his reading my story, " 'E'd said it ! " 
which I print in this volume, the Professor wrote me: 


"Please accept my best thanks for kindly sending me 
a copy of your most excellent specimen of the dialect, which 
will be very useful indeed." 

I should betray a responsibility scholarship and fact 
compel me to respect for the sake of the genuine dialect, 
if I did not repeat the words of that other authority on the 
Yorkshire dialect and the English language, the learned 
Dr. Henry Bradley, M.A., Ph.D., co-editor of the Oxford 
English Dictionary ', who, having read my writing, subscribed 
for a copy of this work, saying in the course of a most 
encouraging letter: 

"... There is no doubt about the genuineness of your 
dialect. There is in existence a wofully large amount of 
dialect writing that is not worth the paper it is printed on, 
and I think one ought to take every precaution against 
encouraging any additions to that rubbish heap, even when 
the authors are obviously well-meaning. ... I am pro- 
mising myself a good deal of pleasure from reading your 
book. . . ." 

Professor W. W. Skeat, of Cambridge, Professor G. C. 
Moore Smith, of the University of Sheffield, and other 
authorities, have written me in similar terms regarding 
much of the printed dialect, some of which Professor Moore 
Smith declares to be "often modern English in a dialect 
disguise," though but for the responsibility implied above 
I would not myself have made this reference. 

I thank Professor Joseph Wright, Litt.D., of Oxford 
University, for his warm encouragement; and the Rev. 
Professor W. W. Skeat, M.A., Litt.D., of Cambridge 
University, who gave me valuable advice when I was an 
unknown writer in my teens, I thank for his continued 
interest. To Dr. Henry Bradley, M.A., Ph.D., of Oxford, 
I also owe my gratitude for kind and hearty encouragement. 

My subscribers to the first edition of these "Tales and 
Ballads" I thank you. Glad I am your names appear in 


a list that will be preserved as being of those who loved 
and wished to perpetuate the memory of our ancient mother 
tongue. Some of you will feel the medium I herewith 
employ brings us closer. Always when I write do I think 
of my friends those readers the present and future have, 
whom I may dare to call my very intimate friends. The 
other world, that may not know you and me, and care for 
us, is then away. I will not assume it hears me say the 
bard is bard whatever language he employ, and his in unity, 
the sweet aria and the syllabic line, the glad anthem and 
the joyful dance. 






YORKSHIRE is very England. It was Deira, the home of the 
Angles. Who is not familiar with the story of those early 
Yorkshire children of English history who are said to have 
brought Gregory to make us Christians ? 

"Gregory had once seen some English slaves in the 
Roman market, where their blue eyes, yellow hair, and fair 
complexions contrasted strongly with the dark looks and 
swarthy cheeks of Southern captives. On inquiring who and 
whence they were, his fancy was struck by the Scripture 
significance of the answers he received. 'Angles!' he ex- 
claimed; 'not Angles, but angels! From Deira? Then 
they shall be de ira eruti snatched from wrath. Name of 
their king, ^Ella ? That is Alleluiah ! ' " 

Says Professor W. W. Skeat, Professor of Anglo-Saxon 
at Cambridge University: "The Anglo-Saxons were not 
Angles, and English in the extreme literal sense was the 
language of the Angles." 

Scholars now speak of the Wessex dialect as Saxon, and 
of the Northumbrian and Mercian as Anglian the Mercian 
dialect being spoken so far down as the Midlands. The 
language of the Angles was called " Inglis," the which is 
known also as the Northumbrian or Northern dialect and the 
Yorkshire dialect. Again to quote Prof. Skeat's excellent 
handbook, English Dialects, 1911: 

" Down to 1400 or a little later the men of the Scottish 
Lowlands and the men of the northern part of England spoke 
not only the same language, but the same dialect of that 
language. In Scotland the Northumbrian dialect was spoken 
by all but the Celts, without much variety; the minor differ- 
ences need not be considered. And this dialect, called Inglis, 
as we have seen by the Lowlanders themselves, had no rival, 
as the difference between it and the Erse, or Gaelic, was 
obvious and immutable. . . . The study of the Northern 
dialect from early times to 1400 . . . leads to a result but 



little known, and that is in direct contradiction to general, 
uninstructed opinion namely, that the written documents in 
the Northumbrian are practically all in one and the same 
dialect, or nearly so, from the Humber as far north as 
Aberdeen. . . . The chief literary dialect in the earliest 
period was Northumbrian, or ' Anglian,' down to the middle 
of the ninth century. After that time our literature was 
mostly in the Southern or Wessex dialect, commonly called 
Anglo-Saxon. . . . The Durham dialect of the 'Cursor Mundi ' 
and the Aberdeen Scotch of Barbour . . . both bear a re- 
markable resemblance to the Yorkshire dialect as found in 
Hampole. . . . We should particularly note Dr. Murray's 
statement in his essay on ' The Dialect of the Southern 
Counties of Scotland,' at page 29, that: ' Barbour, at Aber- 
deen, and Richard Rolle de Hampole, near Doncaster, wrote 
for their several countrymen in the same identical dialect . . . 
it would be very difficult even now to convince a native of the 
Scottish Lowlands unless he is a philologist that he is 
likely to be of Anglian descent, 1 and to have a better title to 
be called an "Englishman" than a native of Hampshire or 
Devon, who, after all, may be only a Saxon.' To quote Dr. 
Murray once more, p. 41 : 

' . . . the facts are still from being generally known, and 
I have repeatedly been amused, on reading passages from 
" Cursor Mundi" and Hampole, to men of education, both 
English and Scotch, to hear them all pronounce the dialect 
" Old Scotch." Great has been the surprise of the latter . . . 
on being told that Richard the Hermit i.e., of Hampole 
wrote in the extreme south of Yorkshire. . . .'" 

In this light, therefore, I have pleasure in making an 
interesting comparison between the Yorkshire dialect as 
written by me in this volume, the which I have learned only 
as a Yorkshireman living among Yorkshiremen, and not 
from books, and the early Northumbrian or Yorkshire dialect, 
otherwise Inglis, as it was called by its Scots writers. 

I will choose first the early English Psalter in the North- 

1 Says John Hill Burton, and the fact should be widely known : " If the 
Highlands [and the Gaelic-speaking Scot] had never existed, the history of 
Scotland would not have been materially different from what it now is. It 
was ever the Lowland Scandinavian [Anglian] population which formed the 
Scottish people who really counted." See also Sir Henry Craik's Century of 
Scottish History. 



umbrian dialect of about A.D. 1250, which, in the Rev. R. 
Morris's and Professor Skeat's Specimens of Early English, 
is stated to have represented the Yorkshire speech from 
about 1 250 to 1300. My transcriptions are made from that 
work. In my own Yorkshire dialect of to-day, which I print 
to the right in parallel with that spoken in 1250, I have not 
tried to construe with a care to nicety of expression, metre, 
and rhyme, but have followed somewhat closely the ancient 
Northumbrian writer to allow an interesting comparison, 
which more than substantiates the foregoing observations on 
the oneness of the Northumbrian dialect, or Inglis, from 
South Yorkshire to Aberdeen. Nor have I striven to affect 
the archaic. Hence such words as "ware," to spend or 
spread out; " stegh," to climb, related to Yorkshire " stee," 
a ladder, a stile; " fang," to find, to touch, whence Yorkshire 
fire-fanged; "mickle," much, etc., I do not repeat in the 
context, though they are in some senses in the Yorkshire 
dialect and used by me in my " Tales and Ballads." 


Representing the speech of 
Yorkshire and the North- 
umbrian dialect, or Inglis, 
about A.D. 1250. 

13. And Lauerd thonered fra 
heven, and heghest sire 

Gaf his steven; haile, coles 

of fire. 
And he sent his arwes, and 

skatered tha ; 
Felefalded levening, and 

dreved tham swa. 


The Yorkshire dialect as spoken 
to-day about Keighley, Brad- 
ford, and Leeds, and known 
to scholars as the Windhill 
dialect Windhill, near 
Shipley, is in the parish 
of Calverley, northward of 
Bradford this being the 
dialect in which I have 
written these Tales and 

An Looard thunner'd fro 
(freY) heven, an heighest 

Gav his word: hael, live coils. 

An he sent his arrers, an 

scattered em. 
Wi leetnin, an drived em 




And schewed welles of watres An shoad wells o watter 

ware, wide 

Andgroundesof ertheliwerlde An t' under-grahnds o t' 

unhiled are, warld are unboiled, 

For thi snibbing, Lauerd For thi snubbin, Looard mine; 

For one sprute of gast of Wi one snort o thi breeath i 

wreth thine. wrath. 

He sent fra hegh, and uptoke He sent fro heigh an uptook 

me. ma. 

Fra many watres me nam he, Fro monny watters he clicked 

He outtoke me there amang He took ma aht theer thro 

Fra mi faas that war sa Fro mi fooas at war sooa 

strang, strang 

And fra tha me that hated ai. An fro sichlike at allus haeted 


25. And Lauerd to me for- 

yhelde he sal 
After mi rightwisnes al, 
And after clennes of mi hend 


In sight of eghen his twa. 
With hali halgh bes of the ; 
With man underand, under- 

and be. 
With chosen, and be chosen 

thou sal ; 
With il-torned, and il-tornest 

For thou meke folk sauf make 

sal nou ; 
And eghen of proude meke 

For thou lightes mi lantern 


Mi God, mi mirkenes light. 
For in the be I outtane fra 

fanding al, 
And in mi God sal I owerfare 

the wall. 

An the Looard he sal yeild 

tul ma 

Efter all mi reight ways, 
An efter t' cleeanness o mi 

hands, sooa an all, 
An i sect o his twoa een. 
Wi t' hali hali tha sal be ; 
Wi man baht harm, baht 

harm be. 
Wi t' chossen, be chossen 

tha sal. 
Wi t' wrang wrang an-all. 

For tha meik fowk sal mak 

An t' een o t' heigh sal ta 

For tha leets mi canle breet, 

Mi God leet t' mirk. 

For i thee om taen aht fro 

all fondness, 
An i mi God sal I lowp ower 

t' wall. 


XVI 1 


3. Wha sal stegh in hille of 

Lauerd winli 
Or wha sal stand in his stede 


He sal fangf of Lauerd 

This es the strend of him 

The face of God Jacob laitand. 

Oppenes your yates wide, 
Yhe that princes ere in pride 


Whoa sal goa intul wer 

Looard hill 
Or whoa sal stand i his hali 

hooam-steead ? 

He sal finnd wer Looard 

Theas is t' straen on em at 

seik him 
An at God Jacob face are 

laitin. 1 

Oppen yar yates 1 wide, 
Yei at t' gert are i yar pride 

And king of blisse income An heven king he sal come in. 

sal he. 
Wha es he king of blisse ? 

Lauerd strang, 
And mightland in fight, 

Lauerd mightland lang. 
Oppenes your yates wide. 

Whoa is he, heven king ? 

Looard strang, 
An mighty i feyts, Looard 

mighty lang. 
Oppen yar yates wide. 

Laurence Minot, who wrote in the Northumbrian dialect, 
A.D. 1346, presents further interesting comparisons. Take 
a fragment from his " Landing of Edward at La Hogue": 

" Franche men put tham to pine 

At Cressy, when thai brak the brig, 
That saw Edward with both his ine, 

Than likid him no langer to lig; 
Ilk Inglis man on others rig, 

Ower that water er thai went ; 
To batail er thai baldly big, 

With brade ax and with bowes bent." 

1 We say in the Windhill dialect "gaet," pronounced "gaaert"; and 
"yate" for "gate" is heard just over the other side of Otley Chevin, in the 
next valley to the Aire. " Lait," for "seek," is much commoner in the other 
Yorkshire dialects than the Windhill. 



To-day we say in Yorkshire, and in the dialect of my 
"Tales and Ballads": Brak t' brig; boath his een; noa 
langer to lig; on other rig; ower ; bowldly big, etc. ; for broke 
the bridge; both his eyes; no longer to remain or tarry; on 
each other's back; over; boldly build. 1 will conclude this 
chapter with a comparison between our Yorkshire Windhill 
dialect and "Homilies in Verse" in the Northumbrian 
dialect, A.D. 1330, and between the Aberdeen Scots dialect, 
or Inglis, of A.D. 1375. 

Homilies in Verse in the 
Northumbrian Dialect. 
About A.D. 1330. 

The first dai, sal al the se 
Boln and ris and heyer be 
Than ani fel of al the land, 
And als a felle up sal it stand. 

The Yorkshire dialect as spoken 
to-day, and "written by me 
in these Tales and Ballads. 

T' first day sal all t' sei 
Boil an rise an heyer bei 
Nor onny fell of all t' land, 
A fell an-all up sal it stand. 

And als mikel, the tother An mich mooar an all the 

day, tother day, 

Sal it sattel and wit away, Sal it sattel an witter away, 

Thefift day, sal greses and tres 
Swet blodi deu, that grisli 

T' fift day sal gers an trei 
Sweeat blooidie diew, at grisli 
sal bei. 

An al the erthe, the achtande An all t' erthe, t' eight day 


Sal stir and quac and al folc Sal stir an quaerk an all fowk 

flay. flay. 

" Robert Bruce, King of 
Scots," by John Barbour, in 
the Aberdeen Scots dialect, 
or Inglis, A.D. 1375. 


444. "Sail no man say we "Sal noa man say we dred 

drede the swa, thi sooa, 

That we with arrowis sail the 


At we wi arrers sal thi 


With that thair bowis away Wi theas ther bows away the 

thai kest kest 

And com on fast but langar An come on fast baht langer 

frest. reast. 

He lap till ane and can hym He loup'd til one an did 

ta him ta 

Richt be the nek full felonly Reight bi t' neck full fahl 

Till top ower taill he gert Till top ower tael he made 

him ly. him \'\g. 

" Perfay," quod thai, "we may " Bi goi," the said, " we ma 

weill se weel see 

That it is hard till undirtak At it is hard to undertak 

Sich mellyng with yow for to Sich mellin wi ye for to 

mak." mak." 

" For richt wicht men all thre " For reight wick men the all 

war thai." three war." 

Archdeacon Barbour said he wrote " Inglis," the language 
of the Angles, and the foregoing comparisons declare that the 
Yorkshire dialect in which I have written these "Tales and 
Ballads" is Inglis or English, and that they are in the purest 
of pure English extant. Even the literary Northumbrian 
dialect, as written between A.D. 1250-1375, shows the in- 
fluence of the Latinity of scholars, and a shaping towards 
the modern forms of English which our genuine Yorkshire 
dialect to-day yet ignores. Speakers of the true Yorkshire 
dialect never use many words of Latin or French origin save 
those the Normans brought, and these retain the Norman 
form, as, grant, grand; seur or sewer, sure; varry (verroie), 
very, etc. They would far rather say " mother sister," than 
" aunt," etc. 

Seeing, therefore, as examination proves, that the York- 
shire dialect in which I have written this volume of " Tales 
and Ballads " the dialect of the Windhill district is virtually 
at one with the purest Inglis or Northumbrian, as spoken 
from 1 200 to 1350 A.D., and it will be remembered that a 


language must have a prior oral existence of nothing less 
than two hundred and fifty years indeed, perhaps, very much 
more to obtain wide literary practice, we have evidence that 
dialect distinctions which make for dissimilarity with the 
Yorkshire dialect of this volume merely enhance the historic 
importance of our dialect, and prove it a remarkable survival 
of the Northern or Anglian dialect, while some other dialects 
have suffered the changes that Northumbrian literature shows 
commenced after A.D. 1370. 

Says Professor Earle in his manual on Anglo-Saxon 
Literature : 

" Evidence makes it natural to regard the whole brilliant 
period from the later seventh to the early ninth century as 
the Anglian period. . . . Anglia became for a century the 
light spot of European history; and we here recognize the 
first great stage in the revival of learning, and the first great 
stage towards the establishment of public order in things 
temporal and spiritual. . . " 

And the religious works I have quoted were the result of 
that authority and responsibility which this period created 
in Anglian or Northumbrian writers. A further interesting 
and informing insight into the history, antiquity, and import- 
ance of the Yorkshire or Northumbrian dialect of these 
"Tales and Ballads" is given in my chapter on the 


A COMPREHENSION of the antiquity of the Yorkshire dialect 
is obtained when we see it has preserved to this day such 
ancient words as heigh (hey), yit, yis, iren, brast, spak, afore 
(afoor), whilk, wood, wud, artow (are ta), rowt, brig, busk, 
slack, triew, bliew, delve, dole, dostow (does ta), een, saig, 
buish, brak, egre, aigre, fer, feigh, fonde, fro, gam, lat, 
neigh, pike, schipne (shippon), seur, or sewer, shoon, shryke, 
tan (t* ane), etc., spoken in and before the fourteenth century, 
and found in the writings of John Barbour of Aberdeen, 
Richard Rolle de Hampole (1340), Geoffrey Chaucer, and 
earlier. We may say even that the Yorkshire dialect will 
give us something of the pronunciation of the speech of the 
Angles and other early races that remotely lived in our isle 
north of the Humber, seeing that our Yorkshire cowd, owd, 
smook, greean, sark, thunner, gers, agean, ackren, skare, 
seur, dael, murn, i or e, and iv (in), fur (for), fro, fra, frav, 
raun (roe), at-efter, at (that), an (than), lig, flig, lang, amang, 
baht, neet, etc., are virtually at one with Dutch, koud, oud, 
smook; Old Norse, graenn; Danish, saerk; Anglo-Saxon, 
thuner, gers, ongean, murnan, dael, fleogan, lang, onmang, 
butan, neaht; Norman, seur; Gothic, ligan, akran; Old 
Norse, skara, i, fyr, fra, at (that), an (than); Norse, atefter; 
Icelandic, hrogn; and Danish, rogn, roe, or fish spawn. 

For the survival of a word in the Yorkshire dialect means 
the survival of a sound, since the words in the dialect do 
not in any wise soever owe their preservation to the com- 



promises of literary transcription. From the standpoint of 
primal purity, as I have already said, we herewith find a 
richer store of elemental discovery, and we are closer to the 
speech of a people who lived a thousand years ago than it 
once seemed likely we could hope to be. Recognizing- all 
this and the sure voice of our historic testimony, I was not 
surprised to discover on examination how radically the pro- 
nunciation of the Yorkshire dialect differed from that of 
Modern English. My native oral testimony afforded an 
excellent criterion for inquiry into the relation of the pro- 
nunciation of the Yorkshire dialect to that of Early English, 
in the light of the conclusions arrived at by Alexander J. 
Ellis on that subject, the which has been applied to Chaucer's 
pronunciation. 1 
I may note: 

" The modern sound, z, in wait, was not established 
till the seventeenth century." 

Certainly in the Yorkshire dialect, wait, thwaite, gate, wail, 
rain, lape, day, tale, dale, wave, made, cake, lake, and all 
words spelt as with long a in Modern English, are pro- 
nounced waaert, thwaaert, gaaert, waaerl, raaern, laaerp, 
daaer, taaerl, daaerl, waaerv, maaerd, caaerk, laaerk, etc. And 
let me say that ae in the Yorkshire dialect, and in my "Tales 
and Ballads," is always aa-er^ as in the foregoing words. 

Ah-ee is given as Chaucer's pronunciation in this class 
of words, which if correct was not that of the Yorkshire or 
Northumbrian dialect. When words which in English have 
this long a do not take the " aer" sound, a becomes short, 
as in tak, mak, brak, lat, which has also laert, etc. Long 
a, as in English father, I will deal with after these com- 

"The present-day sound of ee in eel dates only from the 
beginning of the eighteenth century." 

1 The Poetical Works of Chaucer, edited by Richard Morris, LL.D. 


I note that the more "modern" the pronunciation of York- 
shire folk, the less we hear of the eea or eer distinction, 
which is a real characteristic of the dialect. Hence for tea 
we have not the sound tee, but teer. Green, mean, clean, 
lean, bean, are greern "greean"; the a which I use in 
this class of word is pronounced, as I show later, er meern, 
cleern, leern, beern, but the above statement as to the ee 
sound in eel does not prevent my recalling" that we say weet, 
weel, neet, leet. If the axiom is correct, then the ee is a 
modernizing of the dialect, and we have at once Anglo-Saxon 
woet, neaht, leoht. Often words that in Modern English 
take this long ee sound have in the Yorkshire dialect the 
sound of "ey," as feyld, field; meyl, meal; threi, three; mei, 
me; sey, sea, which also has seer, seea (cf. Icelandic seor); 
trei, tree, which also has treea (cf. Old Saxon treo); bei, be, 
which has more commonly bi, short, as in bit, be it having- the 
sound of bi't, by it; ye, save for emphasis, is short yi, and 
it is also yer; mei, me, which has also short mi and mer or 
ma, as "shoo teld mer," or "mi"; pey, pea; thei, thee, 
which has also short thi, and ther, or tha. He, of which the 
h is not aspirate, has short t, and js i or hi (cf. Fris, hi), 
-hence immer is the sound of "he may"; we, has wi short 
(cf. Old Fris, wi). 

EA is pronounced eer, which is slightly different to Early 
English ee, if that sound was as stated. Thus we have 
breead or breerd for in these examples I use short er instead 
of a, which, like short 0, in Yorkshire has this sound leead 
or leerd ; reead or reerd, read ; cleean or cleern compare 
Anglo-Saxon breod, Icedan, rcedan, clcen. 

El is pronounced ey, as in feyld, field; meyl, meal; heigh, 
high; neigh, nigh; reight, right, etc. ; with many words that 
in Modern English take long ee or i. 

EW equals eu and ew in Chaucer, the sound being that 
of the French or the German ii. Seur or sewer, sure ; sieu, 
sow, preterite; trew or triew; snew, snow, pret. ; blew or 
blieu, have the sound as in sieur. Lewk, look, and do pro- 


nounced dew, have the same sound. This is not exactly the 
ew of English ew in new, but thinner and longer. Thus 
blew and trew do not rhyme with Modern English new, but 
have the thin long sound, bliew, trieu, like the Scots ui in 
puir. Seur or sewer has the sound of cieu-r. 

Jf, as in Chaucer, is generally omitted. I use it as I 
do other spellings, for the sake of the familiar association. 
Hence I spell bread, breead, when it could be breod, like the 
Anglo-Saxons spelt it, seeing short o in the Yorkshire dialect 
has the sound of er, short, as I have said. 

/long, we are told, was not at all the modern sound of i. 
It is said to have had in Chaucer's time the sound of ea in 
steal. That, however, is not the value of long / in the 
Yorkshire dialect. Recent writers have used two forms, 
oi and ah. Hence tahm, toime ; sahd, soid. These tran- 
scriptions are uncertain, and they are unnecessary when the 
reader remembers that Modern English words with the long 
/, in the Yorkshire dialect should have the sound of the 
exclamation ah followed by short /. Thus side is sah-id, 
elided quickly, abide, abah-id, etc. The personal pronoun 
I is short Or; I'm is Omm, and may be also Orm, which 
has emphasis. I s', and I s'l I shall sound like Oss, and 
Ossl. I'd, is short Odd. I'll, is short Ol. I've, is short Ov. 

/short is like z'in bit. I t', in the, is like modern English 
it; and i, in, like i in bit. To save confounding this with 
the personal pronoun I, when a capital i is required at the 
beginning of a new line I use e. See " Kirkstall Abbay." 
Bi (by and be), he, she, thee, ye, mi (my), thi (thy), and see, 
which has also seea or seer, all have this short sound. 

O short, which is clearly "odd" short, in hod, wod, God, 
is often er short, and this explains why I use preost and 
leost as well as preeast and leeast, all the same sound. See 
" Kirkstall Abbay." Therefore to, preposition, is ter, short; 
compare Old Saxon te. Nor him, is " nerrim " ; what e'er o 
ill, is "what eerer ill." Short o before a vowel takes n. 
Hence thowt o it, is " thowt on it " (thought of it), and 


"thowt 'nnit." In the main "on," the preposition of, sounds 
like the preposition on. 

Wor, was and were, sounds like war, bellum. It is 
also often like wer or worr, short. War has strength and 

Oo. The modern sound of long 1 o, as in school, which is 
said to date from no earlier than the middle of the sixteenth 
century, is not common in the Yorkshire dialect. Words in 
modern English that now take this sound have in the dialect 
ooi, the i having the short z'as in bit. Hence, schooil, fooil, 
shooin (shoes), nooin, mooin, shooit. Long o also is ooa, 
or ooer, as go, goa or gooer, which has likewise short u, gu ; 
so, sooer or soa; no, nooer or nooa. Aboon, above, is like 
oo in modern English "soon." We have not the long o 
or " aw," accredited to Chaucer. 

U long is like long o or oo, but shorter. Hence bluid or 
blooid both one sound; gooid, fooit, shuin, shooin, etc., 
could be spelt with ooi or ui. It has also the sound of 
Yorkshire iew or ew, which see, do, as I have said thereon, 
sounding like "dieu." Thus we perceive the weakness of 
our ordinary alphabet in phonetics, since this would make 
" sew " rightly pronounce the Yorkshire preterite, " sieu." 

U short is like oo in hood and good, but deeper, somewhat. 
Hence sud, mud should, and must or might. The modern 
sound of u in but was not established till the seventeenth 

So far we have had a glimpse of light on the antiquity 
of the pronunciation of the Yorkshire dialect of this book. 

The facility with which the dialect makes ea, oa, and oi 
into dissyllabic eea, ooa, ooi, or pronounces them as the ea 
in hear, uttered rapidly, the oa in soa, to rhyme with sure, the 
ooi, as in the words "boo it," spoken rapidly, which give 
the dialect for boot booit, is a characteristic that must most 
certainly be well noted by the reader of these Tales and 
Ballads. We use both long and short forms; which these 
are the quantity and foot tell, for I may not use always eea, 


ooa, and ooi, for the monosyllabic or dissyllabic forms, but 
sometimes ea, oa, and oi ; ea and oa must never be ee and o. 

It is instructive to hear a cricketer easily making runs 
laconically urged by a stentorian Yorkshireman to run 
"a-gee-an!" pronounced er-gee-ern, and then when likely 
to chance a risky run, urged sharply, " a-geean !" (er-geern), 
to rhyme with the words " see an," uttered quickly as 

I will now say a word on a, which I have reserved on 
account of its special importance. In the Yorkshire dialect 
we seldom say "a" to rhyme with hay, save in ma, make, 
and ta, take, which incline to maaer and taaer. See my 
remarks on ai, and on a short, therewith. Sal, shall, is like 
the sal of " salad." A short has the sound of a in any, er in 
ter, short, and ir in sir, short. Hence ta (thou), is ter, short. 
Thus "is ta"? (art thou?) is like ister. Sometimes, how- 
ever, ta (thou), has the sound of the ordinary exclamation 
ah! as in the affectionate " Ta is mah lass" ("Thou art 
my lass"). And this sound ta (thou), always has at the 
beginning of a sentence. Hence: "Tar is. . ./'pageyi. 

A long. The long a of the Yorkshire dialect, as in fahl, 
war (worse), wark, cart, yard, yar, yars, clart, bahn, ahrs, 
ahr (ours, our), nar or nah (now), some writers indicate by 
ah. But the long a has not the sound of the exclamation ah ! 
and hence I may not always use the ah form. While writers 
have familiarized "ah" for this sound, they have yet used 
-it at the same time for the pronoun I, Ah, and for ahr, the 
affirmative, which are wholly distinct in sound from each 
other. Whenever I use ah, save in mah (my) " mar," it is 
for Yorkshire long a ; but I could not always have ah for 
long a, as in wark, yars, yar, etc., though I use ah in the 
affirmative, yah, which in sound is nearly like yar, your. Aw, 
as in awther and nawther, is like oh, not like southern "owe." 

I can at once tell a dialect-speaking Yorkshireman by 
asking him to say the affirmative ahr, which is the Yorkshire 
long a emphasized. Modern English has no equivalent sound, 


but a Yorkshireman would be glad to give any reader a 
lesson how to obtain it For an adventure say "ah" with 
the mouth wide open until its tone is altered and the sound 
is emitted from the back of the throat with a strong breathing. 
Much help may be had from the scientific notation employed 
by Professor Joseph Wright in his Grammar of tlie Windhill 
Dialect, which is founded on the Roman sounds, like palaso- 
type, and can be read, as Professor Skeat assures me, by any 
student of any country in Europe. It will be useful if the 
reader knows that all the fore-mentioned words have not 
the ordinary English a that yard, hah, how, clart, a blow, 
do not rhyme at all with modern English barred, bar, and 

OW. A like difficulty is the Yorkshire ow, as in fowt, 
mouldy-smelling, nowt, owt, browt, sowt, gowd, bowl, 
bowld, cowd, owd, fowd, and the emphatically used York- 
shire negative now no. These and other words in ovv do 
not rhyme with " doubt " or any other Modern English word. 
Thus, in these Tales and Ballads I have never written 
"now" for the negative, which is most common as an 
emphasized or casual "no." I have generally used "noa," 
nooer, which is also much heard. The Yorkshire ow perhaps 
may be acquired by saying foe and wit, and making there- 
with fow't, giving the stress on fow. Soul gives something 
of the sound if the ou is audible and the pronunciation is not 
modern "sole." Some words with ou and ow, however, 
have the sound of Modern English ou in sour, such as clout, 
another form of clart, a blow, how, to chop or hew, towse, 
to pull about or ill use, etc. 

7", the. Readers should make as little of the article 
the, t', as possible. For instance: T' lot, the lot, is pro- 
nounced clot; t' leeast, the least, cleeast; i t' middle, in the 
middle, as if spelt " it middle." Often t', "the," is joined to 
a preceding vowel, as: " bi t' walk," by the walk, pro- 
nounced, bit walk. T' should never be given individual value. 
In such a sentence as " An nah I wor t' squire t' new parson 


teld me" the pronunciation would be "An nah I wart squire." 
But t' before " new" would not be caught; instead a delicate 
nasal sound would precede the "n." If the non- Yorkshire 
reader feels compelled to give an individual quantity to the 
article t', let him omit it altogether, for to say " ter new 
parson " in the run of such a sentence as the above would be 
wrong. It is really 'er new parson, the " er " particle of the 
article being elided into the " n " of the " new." Sometimes 
the article t' is merely expressed by a pause, stress, or accent 
on the syllable immediately before the word it distinguishes, 
as, ern' childer, "an t' childer," emphasis being also given to 
the first syllable of the word the syncopated t' distinguishes. 
I will conclude by giving examples of the pronunciation 
first from my ballad " Kirkstall Abbay," and then from my 
lines " Nobbud an Ackren." Note that er is like "er" in 
" winter." 

" What stoories odd wer Yarksher daaerls 

Erv tah-imes ern fowk all lang sinn gooern, 
Twodd brek yarr art tertellyit taaerls 

Erteener boolder stooernez nooern. 
Once eer wah-it bull ern stiff wah-ild booer, 

E erd er looern er maaerted rooerm'd 
Blak wald ern leergs erv alt ern mooer, 

Nooern flayd er sleerted dogs bifooerm'd." 

Rhymes: These are never false. Hence in agreement with 
my remarks on the pronunciation they are in this ballad: 
Booer skooer, weern greern, saaer maaer, seern greern, 
gooer mooer, daaerl haaerl, gooer fooer, asst fasst, yeer 
leer, dreerm gleerm, leer seer, thwaaert maaert, nah flah (the 
Yorkshire long a, as in baht, bahn, etc.), hooerst mooerst, 
seern geern, snaht claht (the Yorkshire long a again), taaerl 
gaaerl, cowd owd (the Yorkshire ow, as in owt, gowd, etc.), 
nooers gooers, mey drey or meer dreer, and me and dree (see 
my remarks on ee), blasst gaast, breet weet or breert weert 
(again see what I have said on long ee), nooerd rooerd, 


steerd seerd, Leerds neerds, thwaaert gaaert, sah-id bah-id 
(see my remarks on long z). 

" Ern akren ed tummld frutt opponer treer 
Ern fan itsen swimmin reyt dahn intert seer. 
4 Omm nobbud ernakren,' it waaerld bak tult tarn, 
4 Ern gooer Or salatter wheer eert bek is bahn, 
Omm nobbud ernakren nowt else sal Or bei 
Fott waiter is weshing mer dahn intert sei. 
Ern ooerks ern ooerk Omm reyt chuff ter knooer, 
Ter bi one missen ev Or langdivver sooer : 
Yit nobbud ernakren will ivver Or bei 
Fott watter is weshing mer dahn intert sei. 
Odd leerver er sprotten e dank bosky deern, 
Ern ev rasselld wi breers brash ern wi eern 
Twik seervs erclumpin aneytht moss summer-goss, 
Nerrev fun Orm swimmin missen fotter loss 
It claaer raddled bekwatter makkin fott sei, 
E which bud ernakren Or salivver bei'." Etc. 

The foregoing observations apply to the language of all my 
Tales and Ballads with the exception of the North, East, and 
Craven dialects of Yorkshire I use in the ballad "Robin 
Hood an His Merrie Men at come fro t' Ridins Threi." It 
is important that the reader sees my notes on that ballad, 
and also my introduction to the Glossary. 




WHAT stories hod wer Yorksher daels 

Of times an fowk all lang sin gooan ! 
'T wod brek yar heart to tell ye t' taels 

At e'en a boolder-stooan hes knooan ! 
Once here white bull an stiff wild booar 

E herd, or looan or maeted, rooam'd 
Black wold an leagues of holt an moor, 

Noan flayd o sleeated dogs befooam'd. 

Bud days the corned when deer nor booar 

Could langer rooam wi reckless will; 
Wer huntsman thrust an hahnds bi t' scoor 

Wod then i blooidy slaughter kill. 
An sich it war i t' dael, I weean, 

Of Headingleia wheer wer Ayre 
Wi t' wind-flahs cal'd, an t' seeaves greean, 

At lov'd her holmes like t' blosms fair. 

An sich it war when corned, the say, 

One Seleth at hed dreeams seean 
At telt him he sud triewly ma 

A hally shrine i t' woodland greean. 20 



A munk of owd hes setten dahn, 

At lat one neet whol Seleth slep, 
Alooan, far fro Yorksher tahn, 

He bidden war, an noan ma threp: 


" Up, Seleth, rise, tul Yorksher goa, 

An triewly seyk bi sweeat Ayredael, 
A bosky dean 'mid wold an moor, 

For theer sal men say, ' Mary, hael ' ! " 


" An whoa bi yei to mell wi mei? 

why sud I tul Yorksher goa? 
E Ayredael Seleth nowt sal sei 

At others hevn't taen afoor ! 
Tul t' sahthards o ther swirlin Ayre 

Belangs tiv Wyllm Rameville; 
Tul t' north, de Poitou hes his share : 

Twoa Wyllms at wod do ma ill. 

" Bud triewly I sud noan a ast ; 

1 mun forseur be bid wi ye 
At Son full forty days did fast, 

An whisht a storm off Galilee ! 
E like ways Caedmon hed his dreeam 

In t'days agooan, as the tell : 
I s'oss missen soin as a gleeam 

O leet will leead ma fro t' hostel." 

An soa it war at Seleth gat 

E Ayredael an bi Headingleea, 
An theer alooan on a plat 

He liv'd as all med fairly seea. 48 


De Rameville an de Poitou 

Med then a grommel'd, bud the said, 
A gooid man baht spear an bow 

Sud willin mak a brecken bed. 

It war a bonnie plat i t' thwaet, 

An greean as t' moss inside a well, 
Wi butter-blobs an flahs to maet, 

An blosms moor nor I can tell ; 
Wi t' blieu-bell drukken sweeatness nah, 

Afoor t' cuckow hes sing'd him hooast, 
An t' honey-suckles gie a flah 

Tul t' breears at the fond on mooast. 

Wer Lady mantel then wor seean, 

An t' foxgluv chimin his gert bells, 
Whol t' hare-bell peyl reng back ageean, 

A reight goa-to ameng thersels. 
A shreea-mahse oft shrugg'd his snaht, 

An t' moudi-warps wor flayd an scun, 
As freeten'd puss, wi thwack an claht, 

Away thro Seleth loup'd an run. 

Big hummel bees wod lollop aht 

O t' gers-hid hoil o t' hive i t' bank, 
An buzzin, whirr reight wild abaht, 

As thoa ther haet on him wor rank. 
Bud Seleth minded nooan at all, 

His thowts wor allus God-ards bent ; 
He liv'd o blegs an nuts i t' fall, 

E other days on what wor sent. 

One back-end teld a bitter tael, 

War neer afoor seed t' forest king : 
Whol snooas drave wi t' freeasin gael 

It snirp'd up ommost ivvry thing. 80 


An yit all croodled up i t' cowd 

This nobbud kneyld him dahn an said, 
" O, what is winter wind tul t' owd 

At all ther brakky tears hev shed ! 
Wer Jesu went afoor an knooas 

What e'er o ill ther be for me ; 
For t' Lady sake, what ivver gooas, 

I sal \\g here, bi't wild or dree." 

Then suddin, loa ! drop t' stangin blast, 

An spreng eych tree fro t' forrard bend ; 
A red-breeast hopp'd aht fause an ghast 

As med be Seleth war it friend ; 
An t' ollins shak'd ther wessel bobs, 

Soa greean an sprent wi berries red, 
At girn at t' mistletoa wan blobs, 

Sin Jesu blooid hes bin shed. 
" It's Kersmas Morn !" said Seleth then, 

" O hael this day of tidins breet ! 
For all mankind God's son wor gen, 

He gladness brings whol tears be weet !" 

Soa t' name o Seleth wide gat knooad 

To mean bud rest an gooid life ; 
An sooin tuv him ivvry rooad 

WorJDringin fowk at haeted strife. 
One nooin corned on milk-white steed 

A man be-cahld, wi other threi, 
An stood i t' glaed until he seed 

At bonnie war this counterei. 
He lewk'd tards wheer wor little Ledes, 

An owre tul Bramla bit o hill ; 
He sigh'd at thowt o Bradeford needs, 

Bud cross'd an said, " Tis Mary will !" 112 


T' crow-fooit shoits wor knoppin greean, 

An blooims white wor strown i t' thwaet ; 
Whol midges swarmin t' streeam wor seean, 

At kep a glestrin trout agaet. 
He sees it all, an moor beside, 

As in a simmin-glass, a kirk, 
A reight gert abbay wheer abide 

A brotherhood of men at shirk 
Noa lowliness, bud trewly skimp 

Thersens i ivvry seemly way, 
An shew tul pride fahl boggard imp ! 

At Jesu's thowt on neet an day. 

Bud nah he white hes turn'd as chalk : 

A blacken'd, brokken, biggin stands, 
Wi nother rig nor scantlin balk, 

An waste an fowt are t' abbay lands ! 
Then t' hossman slow draw'd back his cowl, 

An let t' wind fresh on tuv him blow ; 
He strooak'd wi steady hand his jowl 

An said at "f sowin's kaled bi t' mow : 
For all mun dee at life wor gen, 

An t' end mun come tul ivvry thing, 
Bi t' hay-seed sprut or e'en yarsen, 

Bi t' strangist ooak or t' greeanist ling. 

" What sowls mud here be made for t' sky 

An breeten'd ere all t' tael be teld ! 
What wrangs be smooth'd at bitter sigh 

Wod reighten neer, chois hah the beld ! 
Wer Christ hissen, Mary an all, 

The corned thersens tul t' sorry day; 
An sooa we moant lig and dole 

If happen we sarn't hev wer way. 144 


" O, ho !" he shahts, this hossman bowld ; 

His esquires threi i t' saddles start, 
An forrard spur tho all are jowl'd, 

To do his biddin like a dart. 
" O, hei yarsens mi trusty threi, 

An tul this Seleth goid word gie : 
Om assin him hissen to sey, 

An t* Prior o Fountaynes sends !" spak he. 

E haest the went the corned i haest ; 

An tidins browt fro t' woodland greean, 
O t' gooid men livin loan i t' waest 

Like booars at eyt bud mast an beean : 
" We fan a thack an theer we seed 

One owd, a-bended low wi years ; 
'Twor Seleth, for he teld his bead 

For Mary, an wor on his kneeas. 

" We telt as hah ye bid us all 

To fetch him back to ye, an moor, 
We telt at ye'd us sorely call 

Unless he corned thro aht his door. 
Bud come he wodn't, noa nit he ; 

We s'hev to mak him if we mud, 
An soa to ass ye here we be, 

Less do owt hard or wrang we sud." 

Yit t' Prior laugh'd an forrard rade ; 

An sooin wi Seleth war he fun 
Aneyth a rowan spell an shade, 

A shelter boath fro craft an sun. 
Soa lang the talk, soa lang the cal, 

Soa lang the hobnob, mummel, mince, 
At one o t' squires he says, "I sal 

Hod sooin at Seleth war a prince !" 176 


"Is" leeaver hod t' esh hes bewitch'd 

Wer Abbot, an hes boath em cuss'd," 
Spak other then at gert hand itch'd 

To finnd his pummil for a thrust. 
Bud Seleth went aneyth his thack 

An browt aht milk, an browt aht vens, 
On which i triewth ther war noa lack, 

An telt em come an help thersens. 


" This day is mine, I sal be t' hoast, 

For bi God's will here sal arise 
An abbay sich as France med booast, 

Bud Yorksher fowk sal loss noa wise." 

An soa it war, for t' Abbot browt 

Tul Seleth word at he wor gen, 
A choice o lands wheer e'er he thowt 

Med likely lewk untuv hissen. 
An soa it wor, for de Lacy 

Hissen hed bun tul t' Abbot when, 
A-liggin on his bed badly, 

He said he'd build for hally men, 
An build a reight gert monastrie, 

Nobbud for t' white Munks o t' Cisteaux ; 
An this did Henry de Lacy 

Full trewly do, as ye mun knooa. 

His gransire Ilbert hed bin gen, 

Bi Willyum Duke o Normandie, 
To hod an keeap all for hissen, 

A hunderd manors an fifty 
In t' West Ridin alooan, bud, 

As't happ'd wheer Seleth war, all t' land, 
Fro streeam to benk, fro benk to wood, 

Wor held bi other Norman hand. 208 


Bud whoa sud t' Earl de Lincoln nay, 

An Baron Pontefract granson ! 
Forseur he nobbud hed to say 

Soa t' abbay buildin bei begun. 
For thirty year an t' delvers delv'd, 

An t' scrappier iren reng an reng, 
Whol t' masons limed an wall'd an shelv'd, 

An t' delf-hoil howers how'd i t' threng. 

What hooaps oft i t' lime are set 

I t' nicks o t' stooan wark i a wall ! 
What svveeatness at all wod forget, 

A trowil mark ma yit up-call ! 
Bud lags mi tael, I mun bestir 

Or neer I s' come tul t' varry end ; 
I s' leeave mich, or happen slur 

An ower-lewk what sud be penn'd. 

Tul wer Blest Mary 'twar all gen, 

As Seleth dreeam med ye a telt, 
An Seleth nah wi t' Lacy men 

Ligs theer at rest as God hes dealt. 
Soa Fountaynes Alexander, he 

Wor Abbot first i Headingleeia ; 
An t' name o Kirkstall ye ma see 

Wor getten efter t' Kirk wor theer. 

Ralph Hageth other war to be 

As Abbot here, bud what a tael 
O kingly wrath ther is to gie : 

Hah t' Abbot went fro sweeat Ayredael 
Wi t' gowden chalice an sich like 

As hali wark hev oft to dew, 
An owt at t' Abbot ee could pike, 

At happen wod mak Henry rew. 240 


He sent an-all ta t' mardy king 

God's hali Word writ aht wi t' quill, 
An t' choicist gift at man could bring, 

Tul him at made em Beckett kill ! 

think o t' lang an stallin wark 

To scrawk wi splay-nooas'd scratty pen 
God's gospels, whol ye wear a sark 
O hemp, baht cinglit, next yarsen ! 

An soa Ralph he went an deed 

At Fountaynes Abbay, wheer he ligs. 
An then at Kirkstall to be seed 

Wor t' Abbot Lambert, as time fligs. 
Sir Richard Eland, knight, an he 

Thro t' Grange Clivacher feytin gan : 
De Eland threpp'd aht it sud be 

His can, as 'twar afoor, baht ban. 

Bud Lambert fleng aht t' fowk baht rewth, 

An made ther hooam a monastrie. 
This riled, an seur 'tis a trewth 

The burn'd dahn t' grange an murther'd three. 
To murther preeasts is flaysome wark ! 

An threi lay brothers is as bad ; 

1 cannot thoil to ass ye hark 

Untul a tael at is soa sad. 
I nobbud hooap at theas red glear, 

At breeten'd rahnd when the it let, 
Made Richard Eland wrang forsweer, 

An Abbot Lambert gin to fret. 

I will uphod Turgesius, 

T' next Abbot as a likely preost. 
He nooan forgat at God's wi us 

When think we at wersens are t' leost : 272 


We s'e ta hev less pride an gab, 

An mind at best on us is nowt ; 
We sud forseur drop wi t' grab, 

An hev for all a kindly thowt. 

Turgesius thro morn to neet, 

Thro neet to morn, an year to year, 
E sack cloth lapp'd up war a sect 

At freeten'd t' imps fro comin near. 
His rooarin sowl'd his cheeks i t' sile. 

An sodden'd t' haly vestments threw ; 
He wared one cahl an tunic while 

Hot summer brunn'd or winter snew. 
For nine year lang he tarried here, 

An then tul Fountaynes Abbay flit, 
An sooin deed, as ye ma seea 

Bi what a munk o t' Abbay writ. 

Bud then corned Abbot Helia turn, 

At gumpshun hed i brass an t' like ; 
An next i kale ther war to murn 

As leeaves swimmin dahn ta t' dike, 
Eight Abbots first, Ralph Newcastle, 

Walter, Maurice, Adam an all, 
Till Hugh Mikela corned i t' wrassle, 

An t' next wor t' one the Simon call, 
William de Leedes, an t' last o t' eight 

Wor Gilbert de Cartles at gav up : 
Soa Henry Carr gat t' Abbot meyt, 

An gat his wark an t' Abbot sup. 

When Hugh call'd Grimstone corned he oss'd 

To loisen t' Abbay, an wer king, 
Wer Edward t' First, this Abbot bloss'd, 

An brass an help did t' Abbay bring : 304 


Ye moant ass hah it war he thrave 

An bet a king an loisen'd t' looans ; 
Ther's moor nor ranseck'd oppen'd grave 

Will tell agean, or rummag'd booans ! 

At-efter Hugh corned like teld beads, 

John de Bridesal, Abbot Walker, 
Then William, then Roger de Leedes, 

John Thomberg an John de Bardsa ; 
William Grayson corned then an all, 

An Abbot Thomas Wymbersleea, 
Wi Robert Kelynbeck foor t' fall 

An Kirkstall hed bud Abbots threea. 

Will Stockdael i fifteen hunderd, 

An one to boit, to reckon reight, 
As Abbot corned ere t' bells thunner'd 

I t' gert heigh tahr for mass an meyt. 
For William Marshall lower'd t' rig, 

At "W.M"ye'llyitfinnd 
Abaht on t' walls at he did big, 

When t' bells o t' tahr reng aht on t' wind. 

An nah is woe an woe indeed ! 

It's t' end we nah hev corned up tul, 
An t' end at Alexander seed 

When t' Abbot sowt aht Seleth hull. 
For till John Ripla hev we come, 

At t' last o t' Kirkstall Abbots war, 
When Henry t' Eight as king soa glum 

All t' lives o t' preosts did sadly mar : 
O weel med wer Heigh Precast o York, 

Owd Wolsa, lig him dahn an dee, 
Wi t' words at 't ed bin gooid wark 

To set God foor King Henerie ! 336 


Ten thahsand pund i sterlin trieu 

Wor year in year aht t' Abbay bit, 
Wi sheeap an beeasts nooan a few, 

An corn an plate at e'er come wi 't. 
Bud brass will allus mak a heeap, 

An sin I hev mi say to say : 
I'd sooiner gooid men wod reeap 

Nor sich at dar gu onny way. 

O lewk yi on this Kersmas Day, 

Fifteen hunderd an thirty nine, 
An t' Abbay last fair Kersmas Day 

Afoor t' winds rahnd her altars whine. 
Ther's Tempest, Vavasour sich names, 

Ther likes a scoor I could ye gie, 
Wi barons, kneyts, an Yorksher dames, 

Corned ivvry one o heigh degree. 

T' owd almonder an t' sacristan 

Tul Prior an Abbot gie em heed, 
Whol preeast, deacon, under-man, 

Are bi t' Heigh Mass sedilia seed. 
Wi stooans a bishop mitre gleeams ; 

An white like t' spotless snooa on t' fells 
Are alb an rochet, as reight seeams 

For t' fair bahn Christ, t' owd munk book tells. 

Then nave an aisle an transept throng, 

An bends low t' heead o kneyt an 'squire, 
As matins soft like angel song 

On incense wings flooat ower t' quire. 
Fro loft an balk hing t' clarted flags, 

At trossell'd war, as t' blooid ren 
An starken'd hard on t' mail an t' rags 

O t' chain-clad kneyts an t' feytin men. 368 


O bonnie lads sing- heigh an sweet 
On yar Convent last Kersmas Morn ! 

incense smoor an clahd fro sect 
Yon rig at sooin will be goan ! 

Noa frahn be seen, noa dratin heeard, 

An all yar both'rin, left a-be ! 
God's munks at reight an trew lives leead, 

Sud nooan be flayd o Henery. 

1 knooa ye wor soin swep aht, 

An huddled war like dith'rin sheeap ; 
I've seen t' owd hahse wheer baht a claht 

Ye hiddid, tum'lin i a heeap. 
Soa hey, for t' gladsome Kersmas Day ! 

A brust-up comes tul t' varry best ; 
An fallin stars flare for to say 

At breet is t' way tuv Heven rest ! 

Bud ere hed Kersmas corned ageean 
All scether'd war theas Godly throng, 

An ranseck'd war all t' kirk an leean, 
An hush'd for aye wor t' belfry clong. 

Last Kersmas Morn I stood missen 

In t' rigless Abbay an t' kirk queer : 
Noa preost wor theer I bow'd, an then, 

Bethowt me on mi song an leear. 
" Ageean," said I, " sal t' gladness rise ! 

I am bud one missen I knooa ; 
Yit hoaps wor gen to reik tul t' skies, 

An if God will, tul Heven door : 
Noa might of hand, noa fowt or sun, 

Sal blast a blithesome song at's sung, 
Or mull a tael at's fair begun 

An monny hearts made glad or wrung !" 400 


I s'ass ye barken bud a while, 

To hear at Leedes fowk once bed gen 
Sixpence a day to men beguile, 

An Kirkstall rive to build thersen. 
One word I'll say an nooan forget, 

'Tis theas, at Leedes hes turn'd ageean, 
An watchers nah hes trewly set 

To ower-lewk t' kirk garth an greean. 

Tho Esseheld lois'd her Nunnery 

At war bi t' fooit o Eckershill, 
This tahn o Leeds will allus gie 

A thowt for Kirkstall Abbay still ! 
Tho t' Peers de Ardyngton Priory 

It Peers nah maes bud little knooan, 
Wer Seleth hes a pile to see 

To-day, an 't will be seen to-moorn. 

An soa t' owd Abbay walls yit say: 

" We s' tell it aht tul one an all, 
At what builds t' lowly in his day, 

Sal nivver altogether fall !" 420 


AN ackren bed tummel'd fro t' top on a treea, 
An fan itsen swimmin reight dahn into t' seea. 
" I'm nobbud an ackren," it wael'd back tul t' tarn, 
" An goa I sal a to wheer e'er t' beck is bahn ; 
I'm nobbud an ackren, nowt else sal I bei 
For t' watter is weshin ma dahn into t' sei ! 

" An ooak's an ooak, I'm reight chuff to knooa ; 

To be one missen hev I lang'd ivver soa: 

Yit nobbud an ackren will ivver I bei 

For t' watter is weshin ma dahn into t' sei ! 

"I'd leeaver a sprotten i dank bosky dean, 

An hev wrassl'd wi breears, brash, an wi e'en, 

T' wick seeaves a-clumpin aneyth t' moss summer-goss, 

Nor hev fun I'm swimmin missen for to loss 

I t' clay-raddl'd beck-watter makkin for t' sei, 

E which bud an ackren I sal ivver bei ! 

" I'd leeaver a grown intul t' balk i a rig, 
Or intul a thyble or eldin, nor lig, 
As gormless as ivin on stooan i a thwait, 
An sackless as wanklin owd stoops wi a yate, 
E watter at's sich a ghast goit for t' sei, 
For theer bud an ackren I sal ivver bei ! " 

Then t' ackren went swirlin bi rush, wort an fern, 
Throa feilds white wi wheeat, an gert tahns i turn, 
Throa moors ling-bedizen'd, an spraggy wi stooan, 



Bi hurst-land an royd, an bi hoam-steeads looan, 
Till cahrd wor all t' sallows away fro t' brak sei 
An scraney wing'd g-ulls the oss'd inland to bei. 

"Brak seea," wael'd wer ackren, "tul thee I am browt; 
To swim aht like a ship I nivver hed thowt ! 
Yit hed I a-grow'd tul an ooak gert an stiff", 
Noa wind wod a blow'd ma i t' beck wi a whiff. 
Bark-skeller'd an fahl, an as is wi owd fowk, 
Storm-flash wod a snirp'd ma bud harder at t' cowk. 

" I'm bud a grean ackren, yit wind an wide sei 
An t' fause, sea-fond tarn beck, ma hoin all threi. 
I'm bud a grean ackren, yit yei at are strang 
Hev taen mi an lois'd mi at nowt wod do wrang! 
I'm noan a gert ship like agean mi flooats t' wave, 
An nobbud an ackren ye've browt tuv it grave ! " 

Then spak theas big ship, thooa for far lands set sael, 
Gooid heed it hed gen tul wer grean ackren tael: 
" Yi fond little ackren," it said, " lewk at me, 
I corned missen mooastly fro ackrens like thee. 
Tul strang ooaks the grow'd i days lang sin gooan, 
An how'd wor bi t' woodman i t' forrist sooa looan, 
Yit meeat yi together at last i t' gert sei ; 
What on't one is ackren, an t' other wor trei! 

" Some ackrens ma fowl nor ma sprut when at hooam, 

The nobbud are sooiner merl'd up i t' looam; 

An gert, black owd ooaks, be ther innards o stooan, 

Ma be liggin one day, deead clogs all alooan ! 

To be awther ackren, an ooak or fair ship, 

Is nowt, sael we t' blieu sea or spraht i a grip: 

Wer lot is wer wide warld's, for of it we bei; 

Trei, ackorn, or ship, we're an all land an sei ! " 


T' SUN bed dropped beheend t' Ilkla moors, an bed left a 
lang blaze o red stretchin reight ower bi Keethla. An soa, 
as 't wor neet comin on, t' delvers i Nathan Garth delf-hoil 
wor makkin hooamards all on em bud Miles Rodam. 

Nab Miles wor a likely young chap, wi black een, an 
oppen, sunny face, an limbs at onny scrappier at ivver reng 
steel on stooan med ha been prahd on ; an it wor said ameng 
t' delvers at 'e wor sweet on Garth dowter. At sundahn 
Miles lad bed been teld nit to goa till t' delf-maister bed seen 
'im ; an soa 'e wor waiting in t' delf when owd Garth, wi 
a scahl, come up tul 'im an reight ats 'im ower t' lass, for 
sha'd teld 'im at sa wor i love wi Miles, an wod hev 'im 
come what wod. 

" I'm 'ere to ler thi knooa at tha'rt nit bahn to wed mah 
Ada," 'e snarled. " Tha's done what tha could to mak 'er 
fond, bud I'll see 'er deead afoor I'll hev 'er wed a scrappier 
o mine. An when I hev said it, I hev said it ! " 

An that neet when 'e gor hooam, t' owd maister teld 
t' tale tuv 'is dowter Ada an all : 

" Wer fam'ly wants liffin up, nit teein dahn, as it wod be 
wi Miles Rodam. I've work'd i t' delf missen, an I knooa 
what it is. Bud ther's bahn to be nowt betwix ye twoa 
becos on that; an I hev said, Ada, at I'll sithee dead afoor 
tha s'l be Rodam wife ! " 

T' lass wor nobbud young, an sha war noan soa strang, 
for sha'd been browt up on a bleeak owd hill, an though sha 
wor Nathan Garth dowter sha'd noan taen after 'im soa mich 
as after t' mother, at, when shoo lived, wor thowt one o t' 
heigher bred fowk. 



" Father," sha waeled, 'er face white, an tears i 'er gray 
een, "it sarn't be as I sal lower t' fam'ly I'll noan lower 
t'fam'ly!" An aht sha swep. 

It war at after bleggin time, an a cowd wutherin wind at 
cut like a sharp saig wor jenderin t' winders, an wor lairkin 
rahnd bi t' reight o Rum'll's Moor to reckon winter wor 
abaht. Bud a north wind i October wor noan eniff to flay 
Ada. Sha ren aht an ne'er stopped till 'er legs gav under 
'er, an sha tummel'd i t' heath-leng, rooarin as if sha'd 
brust 'er heart, for sha knooad all wor ower. 

T' year whiled on ; Kersmas hed supped t' owd yale an 
hed etten t' cairk ; t' red ollin berries hed bedizened t' hahse 
walls; an t' white crudded snooa hed screnched neyth t' foit 
o monny a merry waistrel, bud nowt wor ivver seed o Miles 
Rodam bi Garth dowter. Sha hed gen Miles to understand 
at sha'd noan hev 'im i t' teeth on 'er father, an somehah t' 
lad hed taen 'er to hev made an end o t' courtin. If 'e'd 
nobbud a knooan at sha wor pinin away thro botherin ower 
'im, hah soin wod 'e hev come tul 'er ! Bud he knooad 

It warn't lang afoor Ada father could see t' lass wor 
lewkin noan as sha med, an soin it gan to be t' talk at sha 
wor ta'in t' bahnist road to 'evm. Still, nowt wod mak t' 
father change 'is mind when once 'e'd said it. 

Bud bi t' 'arvist agean sha gat war an war, an t' tale went 
rahnd at sha wor deein, soa 'evnly-lewkin wor sha. 

Of a neet i t' Backend it seemed to Garth 'issen at Ada 
breathin wor comin tul a stop, an sha wor nobbud liggin on 
t' owd langsettle, wheer sha'd tippled asleep waitin up on 'im. 
T' owd delf-maister rave at 'is silvry 'air an spreng aht'n 'is 

" Bi goi ! es t' badly, lass?" 'e shahted. 

Ther wor n' answer, an blutherin like a bahn 'e senk dahn 
on 'is knees at t' side on 'er. Bud sha nobbud smiled at 'im 
an waived 'er white 'ands; an then sha wor dead dead as 
sa mod bi. 

'E'D SAID IT! 49 

It strack Garth dahn like as if it med a bin a sythe- 
strooak, an 'e tummel'd as gooid as goan 'issen, 'is legs 
sprottlin wide aht on t' hearth, gormless; an all t' while t' 
limbs o t' fairest lass at ivver tred greean gerse wor starkenin. 
When 'e come rahnd 'e wor ameng a lot o wimmin at wor 
doin t' last for Ada. 

" Sha's goan, t' angel 'er ! Shame on thi, Nathan ! shame 
on thi ! Ta said it at tha'd see 'er dead afoor sha sud wed 
Miles Rodam, an nah sha'll wed cowd clay i t' buryin-hoil 
asteead. Shame on thi for hevin said it !" 

An sooa t' wimmin deng at 'im, callin 'im thro hill to 

T' blooid wor i 'is head, bud 'e raised 'issen an steggered 
to t' door-stooan. T' neet wor dark, an t' stars aboon wor 
bliew. 'E shrenk back ower t' thressel an scrammel'd up tul 
'is rahm, wheer 'e fleng 'issen on t' bed. For monny a lang 
hah 'e wrassled an writhed an tew'd, blamin 'issen for Ada 

When it war dayleet 'e felt 'e mun fotch Miles Rodam, an 
tak tul 'im for t' lass sake. An baht a word to t' wimmin at 
wor fussin abaht t' hahse 'e went, makkin to t' delf wheer 
Miles wod be. It wor soin: t' white aim wor glesterin i t' 
red sunshine, t' miln whews wor wailin aht near an far, an t' 
ring o t' delvers agate wor heeard i t' delves abaht. 

Ommost done up Nathan reiked t' quarry-hoil 'e wanted, 
an stopped to wind. Bud at t' same time corned up a lahd 
shaht thro t' throits o t' delvers, an t' next heeard wor a deep 
blooid-cruddlin sahnd as hunderds o tuns o stooan hurled 
thersens dahn an dahn to t' delf bottom. Then ther wor a 
still minute. Bud sooin snap shahts come thro t' delvers 
at wor scettered wide. 

"It's Miles Rodam! Miles Rodam! . . . 'e's reight 
under . . . bud 'e'll be deead eniff nah, an aht'n it all !" 

" Lord forgi' me, bud I'd said it," bluthered Nathan. 

'E oppened 'is een, an 'e wor i 'is oan armchair agean, 
wheer 'e'd dreamed it all. T' first lewk 'e gav wor tul t' 



langsettle, wheer, sewer eniff, wor Ada, set up, 'er gray een 
on 'is face. 

"Ye hev been speykin queerly, father," sha said. 

"Hev I, lass?" wi a huskiness; " what's wakken'd ma?" 

"It's Ann; sha says at at " 

"At what, lass?" 

"At Miles is at t' door." 

" Bi gow, lass, if 'e is 'e sal ha thi bud noa noa: I hev 
said I hev said " 

Then Miles wor stood afoor em. 

"What do ye want, Miles Rodam, at this lat har o t' 
neet?" ast Nathan, 'is hard sen agean. 

" I've come intul a a fortune thro a cousinn at's goan 
hooam," blurted Miles, reddenin an keepin 'is een on t' floor. 

Drawin 'isseln back t' owd delf-maister once more ast 
Miles what it wor 'e'd come for. 

" I've come for mi mi mother necklet at war gen bi me 
to yar Ada," said Miles, lamely. " I'm bahn away to-morn, 
an " 

" Want to tak it wi ye, I reckon," put in Nathan Garth, 
i a tahrin rage. " Pike aht, an I'll bring y' it." 

Garth words wor threatenin, an Ada face wor white. 
Baht a word Miles piked aht an waited i t' cowd. 

" Finnd that necklet, Ada!" thunner'd t' father. An 
trem'lin, sha gav 'im it thro rahnd 'er bonnie neck. 

E a bit at after Nathan Garth hed gen it to Miles, an wor 
sittin bi t' fire as if nowt hed happened an Rodam lad hed 
noan been near. Bud when t' owd man turned to bid Ada 
gooid neet 'e said : 

" I s'think, nah Miles Rodam thinks 'issen too gooid for 
thi, nah 'e's weel off, at tha'll pine noa langer abaht 'im, bud 
reckon 'im aht o t' gait, an keep thi een oppen for another ! 
'E's goin t' rig an reight !" 

T' lass cheek wor tinglin wi hummel'd pride, an sha said 
nowt. Sha thowt sha wod swelt. 

Nit monny weeks at efter Ada Garth wor to be fun walkin 

'E'D SAID IT! 51 

aht o doors, an varry sooin sha wor 'er owd sen, for nah 
sha'd been soa slighted bi 'er father an t' man sha'd thowt 
soa mich abaht sha buckled up. Blooim o health lewks weel 
wheere'er it be, bud it wor at best on sweet Ada fjace, 

One crisp January morn a huntsman horn wound on t' 
sunny frosty air near Nathan's. Ada happened to be aht on 
t' moor, an sha waited till t' pack o mahthin beagles wor i 
seet. Hah grant they come on, pantin an whimperin ! Then 
the passed 'er like a flock o low-fleein watter birds off o t' 
heigh moor swamps; an sha wor stood shiverin wi a strange 
chill when up rade at top speed a young man on a sorrel 
mare, shahtin wi purple cheeks: 

"Yo ho! yo ho!" 'is een strainin hard aforrards to t' 
meltin pack on t' brow. Bud a flutterin skirt an a girl face 
hed spun 'is brain, an 'e wished 'issen at t' side o sweet Ada 
Garth; yit withers an holloa, bayin pack an fleein quarry, 
swep 'im away like t' wind. 

It wor neet comin on, an Ada Garth wor sittin bi hersen 
i t' big kitchin, hevin a cup o' teah bi t' leet o t' lamp, when 
t' waitin woman, Ann, step in an said ther wor a hare sent 
thro t' young squire o Staines. 

" Who's browt it?" ast Ada wi a blush, an shamin, for it 
wor 'im at hed ridden past 'er i t' forenoin. 

" T' young squire 'issen !" 

Ada wor reight taen back, bud sha said at t' squire wor 
to come in. An forrards 'e come wi a huntsman ready hand 
an oppen face. 

"I've browt puss to ye, Ada Garth," said 'e. " Sha's 
duffed us sin t' forenoin when sha mun a passed wheer ye 
wor on t' moor. . . . Ye mak a varry leean welcome for ma. 
Bud hark, lass: I've heeard ther's better nor Garth blooid i 
yar veins. Nah I've corned to say as I weant live if I am'it 
bahn to mak thi Mistress o Staines Hall." 

An t' young squire lived on, soa it's plain 'e wed 'er. 

Bud t' early days on Ada bein t' squire o Staines wife 


wor marked bi t' pair on em forgettin t' father, an when 'e 
come to dee nobb'dy wor wi 'im bud triew lad Miles at hed 
corned back thro abroad. An Miles Rodam wor t' ony one 
to follow t' owd man coffin tul t' moorside buryin grahnd, for 
t' dowter wor gooidness knooas wheer ! 

Soin t' coffin wor lowered i t' buryin-hoil; an t' Vicar wor 
readin aht when reight at hand ther wor t' sahnd on a worryin 
.pack o hahnds. Other minute ther lowped ower t' wall a 
gert hare ; an flayd o nowt bud t' dog red fangs it made fo' t' 
grave an spreng dahn bi t' side o t' coffin, cahrin ditherin 
theer. An 'ead ower 'eels t' beagles o t' squire o Staines 
wor after it. 

Rodam lad blooid wor up ; 'e clicked hod on a shovel an 
sleshed reight an left ameng t' blooidy-tongued pack. An 
all through t' rakkit a horseman on a sorrel mare wor ridin 
tards em, cursin an shahtin. Then, madman he war, 'e set 
t' mare at t' sixfoit wall, bud sha decked, an t' rider wor flung 
ower, slap ageean a grave-stooan. When 'e wor picked up 
'e wor deead, 'is back brokken; an it wor t' young squire o 
Staines ! 

Years at after, Miles Rodam happ'd to meet t' squire 
widder, aht wi 'er little son, t' new squire o Staines. 

"Ada, "said 'e, t' words trem'lin, "I'd like to tell yi at 
when I come for mi mother necklet I'd nobbud made it aht 
as summat at wod get ma neyth t' owd rig wi ye, bud yar 
father wor 'ard as ivver, an I thowt- 

" What yi thowt, Miles Rodam, is nowt to me, nah," sha 
brak in sharp, an turnin away; "mi father said 'e wod see 
mi deead afoor I sud bi wife o yars. An thoa 'e's gooan 
'issen, an 's nawther taen mi love nor likin wi 'im, fowk sal 
knooa at when Garth lass father hed said it, 'e'd said it." 



O GLAD wor Cove'la woods an greean 

Thro Aire to Eckleshill, 
An birds gav Lenten song ageean 

Thro glade to clovven gill. 

An ridin ower bent an meead, 

An under t' grean-wood trei, 
His brow begemm'd wi t' sweeat bead 

Come Walter Coverley. 

" O woe is me an woe is mine !" 

Wi heart wark sore he wailed, 
" I've lov'd mi sup, I neer wod pine, 

An fahl wi fair I've kaled. 

" An nah I'm shut bi all mi fowk, 

An nah I'm baht a friend, 
An t' wife's nit fond o me at t' cowk: 

O wheer then mun I wend ? 

" Mi heart wi kinnel'd eldin burns; 

Bi Satan brimm'd it war ! 
He maes me rail an tew i turns 

O Lady send him far ! 20 



" Bud curses on mi owdest bahn ! 

On him mi land is teed; 
O curses on mi ivvry bahn: 

I wod the all hed deed ! 

" An Philippa is nowt, I'm telt, 

Mi bahns are nowt an all: 
I want to slay ! the want to swelt ! 

I s' hee me back to t' hall. 

" Mi head it reels; a gird's agate 

A-whirlin ma i t' gam ; 
Mi life is nowt o Heaven ta 't, 

For hoamin it E am !" 

He sees his hooam squat on t' lea 

At liffs tul grean Wodehall, 
He sees an all bi t' stooan steea, 

His laithes an t' chapel wall. 

" O why," he cries, " is t' hill a dael ? 

An why is t' grean ing grey ? 
An why is Ivvry sahnd a wael 

At thrills me through, I pray? 

14 O why, O Blessed Lady, tell, 

Is t' grean ing wither'd soa? 
An say, iff hill's abahn to hell, 

O sal I wi it goa ? 

" It's dark, an neet is all arahnd, 

An t' stars aboon are een, 
A-stariq hard as t' guytrash hahnd, 

Wi t' barghest greany sheen ! 48 


" Soa Death is like to breathe his blast 

On one o mine or me ! 
O wod he'd leeave mi bahns to t' last, 

An nah tak maddled me !" 

Bud bliew wor t' sky, an t' ing wor greean, 

Noa neet ther war, nor een ; 
An t' hill wor lower nowt to meean 

Nor heretofoor 't ed been. 

Enah, at last, it comes abaht 

At Coverla can see, 
His hall an ivvrything wi aht 

A wrang i t' heead un ee. 

He rides wi haste up t' hill an maes 

A clockin hen i freet, 
Forger all thowt o sittin days, 

Soa swift his steed an fleet ! 

He rides i haste becoss he strives 

His bahns and wife to see, 
Afoor in tul his heart ther slives 

A wish at the ma dee. 

O hah he loves his bahns an t' wife ! 

O hah he langs to say, 
At be ther hate or be ther strife 

He loves em neet an day ! 

O Walter Coverla, thi sire 

War grandson tul that knight, 
At Shireeve war o wer Yorkshyre 

An war Sir Wyll'm hight. 76 


Soa Walter Coverla mak haste, 
Thi heart is beatin trew ! 

Yit bee ma t' last o honey taste, 
An knop sip ne'er o dew ! 

An heart ma loss it love afoor 
A kuss hes teld it tael ; 

An sooin hoaps at heighest sooar, 
On t' gfrahnd ma trosslin trael ! 

He reins in t' steed, an wi a bahnd, 
He lowps him dahn an stands 

In front o t' hall, an stroaks a hahnd, 
At dithrin, slakes his hands. 

His rein he gies him tul a lad, 
An maks his way i t' hall ; 

He sees at t' hahse is looan an sad, 
An cowd an dark an all. 

" Ho, stack on eldin !" lahd he cries, 
" An let's ha breeter cheer; 

Let glare o blaze wer rahms bedize, 
We'll hev noa shadders here !" 

His words are heard i t' rahm aboon 

Bi Coverla slim wife, 
An quick sha dons her gahn an shoon 

Aflayd mischief is rife. 

Her een the glester nah wi tears, 

Her hands the shak wi freet; 
An when her husband foit sa hears 

Sha prays for to-morn leet. 104 


" O ill's this Avril day," sha wails, 

" O dark it seems to me, 
E'en t' clahdless sky aboon t' rig fails 

To breeten owt I see ! 

" O sal we safely tide o'er t' neet ! 

O sal yit other day 
It finnd mi cheek wi rooarin weet, 

An Walter goan away !" 

Bud Walter Coverla's aneyth 

T' flat-flewted roof below, 
A-watchin t' reek it elf-ring's wreyth, 

An t' blazin eldin glow. 

He feels a naigerin at heart, 

He feels a burnin brain, 
Wi ivvry nah an then a dart 

O sharp an stangin pain. 

" O Philippa," he gasps enah, 

" Thi lips wod freshen me, 
If cool upon mi heated brah 

Tha'd press em tenderly. 

" An if an all, o bahns o mine, 

Ye'd snootch up nah to ma, 
I'd ne'er forger at t' head o t' line 

E am o Coverla. 

" I'd tak ye reight intul mi arms, 

At wacker queer to see ; 
I'd hug ye both abaht wer rahms, 

For kusses ye sud gie. 132 


"An is't, o Walter Coverley, 
Thi pulin sen tha hears ? 

An is ta then abahn to bei 
Soft fond as clickin breears ? 

" Oh, why's mi Wyll'm soa beheeand ! 

An why his welcome lat ! 
Mi childer sud bi nah be weeaned, 

All bud that Henry brat ! 

" An what are t' bahns an t' wife to me 

At I sud bother soa ? 
Mi bahns will nivver scrawm mi knee, 

An t' wife will nobbud rooar. 

" O hah I hate mi mardy lot ! 

Ma curses on em fall 
An blast mi ivvry bahn I wot, 

An t' bluth'rin wife an all ! 

" Bud hah red breet this eldin burns ! 

O why noan burns it bliew, 
Wi grean or yolla i ther turns 

Asteead this blooid hiew !" 

He puts a hand afoor his een 

An steggers him tul t' stair ; 
He heaves a sigh, an then, I ween, 

His lips the move i prayer. 

An nah agean he is that same 

At rade to kuss his bahns ; 
An nah agean he gan to frame 

To loss his crewil frahns. 160 


An i t' gert keepin rahm aboon 

Is Coverla slim wife, 
An shoo hes donn'd her gahn an shoon 

E readiness for strife. 

" O Carver," says sa tul her man 

At come i t' rahm an all, 
"I'm flayd at nah an evil ban 

On t' hahse is bahn to fall !" 

At last is Walter Coverley 

His dith'rin wife afoor, 
An sad he asses why sud bei 

Her face as white as snooa. 

' ' O say an is ta flayd on owt ! 

O say an tell to mei 
Why t' blooid flees thi face for nowt, 

Becoss at E am neigh !" 

As swift as aigle spreads her wings 

Her fledglin heigh to bear, 
As swift an wide his arms he flings 

An clasps his lady fair. 

O sad at sich sud ivver be ! 

Sa wrassles wild an flayd 
Thro Coverla hersen to free, 

An lahdly calls her maid. 

Bud noan nor t' man at war abaht 

Wor theer to answer t' cry, 
An quick he tul em come wi aht 

As mich as tellin why. 188 


" Bid Carver fotch mi youngist bahn 

At's wi his wife at nurse !" 
Said Coverla wi scahlin frahn, 

An black an ugly curse. 

" O Carver fotch mi Henery," 

Sha tremlin tells her man ; 
Bud tear an sigh the say at he 

Mun think o t' evil ban. 

An soa he nivver went away 
To fotch her bahn back hooam, 

Bud stay'd i t' court to while on t' day : 
Noa farther wod he rooam. 

"An seur t' maister's drukken mad, 

I seed his ee wi greean ! 
An seur I'll noan fotch his lad, 

Bud goa i t' hall ageean." 

An this did Carver trewly do, 

As tells sad history : 
He went i t' hall tul t' fratchin two, 

An reyt riled Coverlee. 

" O think ye I mi bahn wod hurt? 

think ye I'd him harm ? 

I'd raether feyt wi t' strang an t' gert 
Nor bahn o mine alarm ! " 

An soa i rage did Coverla 
Ageean em lahdly rail 
" A bahn o mine at t' seet o ma 

1 knooa wod nivver pale ! " 216 


An list'nin tul him ramp an reeave 

His owdist bahn bed been, 
An nah wor watchin t' mother greeave 

Wi wide an starin een. 

He war bud fewer, t' little'n, then, 

An noan could understand, 
Soa quick he tul his father ren 

To tig his father hand. 

An reyt an prahd is Coverley, 

Becoss he nah can show 
At t' bahn noan flayd on him wod bei, 

An thoa he lig him low. 

Bud nah a weapon finnds his hand 

An liffs his arm up hee, 
An heavy falls to sear t' red brand 

O shame on Coverlee. 

An stabb'd an deein wor his bahn 

On t' floor, an wheer ther fell 
His blooid red at spurted dahn, 

Wer history can tell. 

O deed o blooid an red shame ! 

O deed o thirsty blade ! 
Why dyed ye dark a knightly name, 

An honour thro it taed ! 

Bud t'seet o Wyll'm blooid made 

His father madness flee ; 
An yit he raced wi t' drippin blade 

His Walter bahn to see. 244 


Al be his wife an Carver strave 

His reekin hand to stay, 
Wi steady arm his blade he drave 

An Walter bahn did slay. 

Then woundin t' wife at click'd his knei, 

He dahn wi Carver fell, 
An thoa he worn't a Coverley, 

This wrassl'd reight, the tell. 

Bud fair away gat Coverlee, 

An on his hoss he rade, 
At toppist speed fro t' hall to gie 

A deeath brod wi t' blade. 

He rides to kill his Henery, 

At's aht away at nurse, 
As slew he Walter, soa to free 

Him thro t' black murther curse. 

Bud t' hoss it shutter'd dahn an roll'd 

Wi Walter Coverley, 
As ridin up wi hearts full bowld, 

Come hossmen two or threi. 

The click strang hod o Coveriee, 

An tak him tul a jail, 
An noan a wit the knooa at he 

Is nobbud reight i kale. 

An fewer months at after he 

Wor squeez'd to death becoss 
He wodn't plead, lest Henery 

Sud t' father chattels loss. 272 


O still wor t' woods o Coverley 

Thro stream to lordin scarr; 
Noa bird gav grean-wood song" i trei, 

Thro glade tul greeavin carr. 

O grean hill shield Sa'nt Wyllfred Kirk ! 

O grean wode cluther rahnd ! 
Esh, ollin, aigh an crookl'd birk, 

Pen in her hally grahnd ! 280 


IN t' days o early childhood 

I nivver thowt o tahn, 
Bud lairk'd abaht i t' greean-wood, 

A reight wick Yorksher bahn. 

Ther war a steep wi bliew bells, 

A bonnie copse wi nests, 
An ivvry flah t' honey tells 

Hes bumble-bees for guests. 

Ther war gert trees o ollin, 
A brambly bracken glade, 

Ther war a woodman trollin, 
Ther war a dyke I made. 

A dyke I made i t' dingle 
Bi stuffin t' goit-hoil full, 

Wi sods o t' bent, an shingle, 
Or owt at I could pull. 

I knooa at theer askards war, 
An moudiwarps hev moiled; 

Ackrens, blegs an aighs ther are, 
An t' wasp nests I've unhoiled. 


Bud reight tul this varry day, 

I cannot finnd ageean, 
A flah at I loved to ta 

Mi mother when a weean ! 

O white it war an elfish, 
As t' frailest flah or spray, 

An Spring, at's nivver selfish, 
Sa browt it ere come May. 

O little flah o Spring-tide, 
Tha nameless art to me, 

Bud ne'er will wer Yorksher wide 
Finnd love like mine for thee ! 


BETWIX t' Otley Chevin an Pennigant Hill ther war ne'er a 
blither-hearted couple nor Amos Skaife an Lily Hollindael, 
till t' lady o t' manor o Eshing come back fro abroad ; bud 
after that t' April itsen wor noan as tearful as sweet Hollindael 
lass face, an ther worn't a bliew bell weet wi dawn dew at 
glestered more nor t' lass sky-hiewed een. 

T' manor lady wor young an handsome. Sha hed come 
dahn thro a lang line o rich landed fowk an hed browt t' 
lands dahn wi 'er ; an soa, though Hollindael lass wor t' 
better lewkin o t' two wimmim, t' reckonin wor for t' manor 
lady brass is sich a goid mak-weight an Hollindael lass 
went away fro Eshing to dee wi a brokken 'art. 

An Amos noan fret 'issen mich abaht that when Frances 
Slingsby an t' lands o Eshing wor likely to beleng 'im. 'E 
wor nobbud flayd at as t' days slithered by, t' chonce o ther 
spurrins bein heard wod slither an all. This did bother 'im, 
an 'e ommost nattered 'issen to death ower it, for t' manor 
lady wodn't mak up 'er mind to hev 'im. 'E thowt 'er mood 
wod tide by ; an 'e bided a bit. 

Abaht a year 'e waited, an then 'e wor reight stalled. 
Soa of a neet 'e went ower tul an owd hag 'e'd heard on, an 
ast what 'e mud do to leearn if 'e wod wed t' lady-love. 

" I knooa weel hah ye med leearn, an hah ye med see t' 
woman ye mun wed," said t' owd hag. " To-morn is May 
day, an at abaht sundahn, when t' fairies are sick o ther 
lairkin an ready for other gam, ye mun goa dahn tul t' lang 
pasture i t' dale, an at t' nethermost end ye'll finnd a sycamore. 



Noan seven strides thro 't is a ring" o greean gerse, as if it med 
a bin wheer a giant sythe bed yance left a gert swathe-balk. 
Here ye mun go rahnd sunwithards as oft as ther be days 
'twix nah an Whitsunda, an sewerly ye sal see 'er ye mun 

It wor wi a laugh an a fleer at Skaife lad mahnted 'is mare 
t' next eventide an rade to t' lang pasture. Tetherin t' mare 
tul a pale 'e scrammeled t' gate an waded through t' fause 
young gerse at wor ower-chuf becos on that Spring wor abaht ; 
an reight timely wor 'e bi t' owd sycamore at t' nethermost 
end o t' feyld. 

Sewer eniff t' fairy ring wor theer ; an Amos gan to walk 
rahnd an rahnd sunwithards times as oft as days wor 'twix 
then an Whitsunda. Times rahnd 'e went an times agean ; 
'e'd ne'er thowt afore at Whitsunda wor soa far thro t' first 
o May. 'E loised 'is reckonin, bud summat held 'im on till 
dusk. Then e an ee twinkle 'e'd fun 'issen stood stock-still, 
an theer i t' middle o t' ring" wor a hazy mist. 'E gloared 
an gloared, till at last 'e made aht ther wor a woman. 

"Sewer an it's t' manor lady I s'wed 'er, I sal, I sal !" 
'e said to 'issen. 

Bud speykin mun a brokken a spell, for t' mist hed melted 
away an left noan nor Hollindael lass, 'er blieu een breet wi 
tears. An sa reiked aht 'er 'ands beseechin, tards 'im. 

"Wed ye!" cried Skaife i scorn, "Wed ye! Nivver ! 1 
s' wed noan bud Frances Slingsby." An 'e scutched 'er ower t' 
cheek. Bud it seemed as if 'is whip hed nobbud swished 
through t' air ; an a chill quailed 'is 'art, for Hollindael lass 
hed goan, an 'e wor alooan i t' lang pasture, wi t' owd swayin 
sycamore ! 

T' next day Amos couldn't mind hah 'e gat hooam t' neet 
afoor. An as what hed happened worn't ower-nice to crack 
on, 'e made believe tuv 'issen at 'e'd bin dreeamin. In t' 
forenoin 'e went up tul t' Manor Hall an ast for Frances 
Slingsby. Bud 'e wor teld sha wodn't see 'im. 

"That caps ma," said 'e, "for yis'da sha telt me to 


come. Nah, it wodn't be owt aht o yar way if ye telt me 
why yar mistress weant see ma." 

T' man thowt a bit. "I s' ne be doin mich wrang if I 
do," said 'e : " Shoo wor sitten at table yester eve when all 
at once sha gav a shrike an said at some'dy hed scutched 
'er ower t' face wi a whip. Sewer eniff ther wor soin a red 
weal to be seen ; an it's becoss it's noan goan off on 'er face 
yit at sha weant see ye, Maister Skaife, this forenoin." 

This wor aboon Skaife lad ken, an 'e went hooam reight 
maddled wi thinkin it ower. 

A weal across a fair face is noan nice, an soa thowt 
Frances, t' manor lady, as t' weal wodn't goa. 

"Oh, what mun I do? what mun I do?" sha waeled. 
At last sha went tul t' hag o Eshing. 

"Why, lass," said shoo, "if ye will nobbud go dahn to 
t' fairy ring bi t' owd sycamore i t' lang pasture to-morn neet 
ye sal lois t' weal thro yar face. I'm sewer on't, if ye'll 
nobbud goa rahnd sunwithards till reight dusk ! " 

Soa early t' next neet t' manor lady wor dahn bi t' fairy 

" I s' goa hooam," sha said to 'ersen as sha stood agean 
t' owd sycamore : "This is all a gam ! " 

Bud noa soiner hed sha said it nor big drops o rain gan 
to fall on t' sycamore leaves an mak a 

Pit pat pit, 

Pit purty pity pat, 

Pit pat pit. 

At first sha listened an kep time wi 'er toa on t' sward. 
Then sha clapped 'er 'ands an seng wi t' 

Pit pat pit, 

Pit purty pity pat, 

Pit pat pit. 

Soin this worn't eniff, sha mun leg it an all. Soa aht on t 
ring sha stepped an frisked it like a watter-wraithe. An all 


t' while t' heavy rain drops wor silin dahn on t' sycamore, 
bud noawheer else. Dark wor comin on, an though t' manor 
lady wor flayd o neet as wor t' sun at hed skulked off beheend 
t' Craven hills, yit sha still foited t' ring 1 tul t' tune o t' 

Bud summat moor wor to betide : Amos wor i t' lang 
pasture an all, for 'e 'd come dahn tul t' fairy ring to fend for 
'issen, an, as 'e wor e 'is cups, an druffen, 'e sweer'd at if t' 
owd love i t' shape o Hollindael lass wor to show 'ersen agean 
it sud goa hard wi 'er, flesh or ghooast. When 'is een failed 
on t' manor lady dancin rahnd an rahnd t' ring i t' dusk 'is 
blooid boiled : 

"Curse 'er, it's Lily!" 'e shahted. "Bud sha s' ha 
summat for comin ! " 'Is words wor lahd, yit t' manor lady 
ne'er heeard 'em ; an Amos rushed forrards an scutched 'er 
arm thro behind wi t' riding whip. 

This brak t' spell, an t' manor lady turned an brust into 
tears at t' smart o t' whip. 

" Is't ye, Amos Skaife?" sha cried. "Scamp ye! for 
what strack ye at me ? " 

" Bi t' Megs, it's t' lady love!" said Amos. "I thowt 
it wor Hollindael lass ! " An t' lad wor soa aghast 'e 
rubbed 'is een, an rubbed an rubbed agean. Bud when 'e 
lewk'd up t' manor lady hed goan. 

Ne'er hed Skaife lad raced soa blithely dahn tul t' Manor 
Hall as 'e sped on t' eve o t' day after 'e hed seen t' manor 
lady 5 t' fairy ring. 'E minded weel at t' hag o Eshing hed 
telt 'im 'e wod wed 'er at wod come tul 'im i t' lang pasture ; 
an soa 'e wor noan flayd at Frances wod click t' mishap on 
'is hevin gen 'er arm a scutch wi 'is whip, an mak that 
come between 'em. 

An a reight welcome did sha gie 'im : 

" I'm glad ye've come," sha said, " I've two cousinns 'ere 
at want to see ye." 

"An what want the to see me for, Frances? Am'it I 
bud a stranger tul em? " 


" Ay, bud ye sarn't be stranger lang, scamp ye ! " 
An afoor Skaife lad bed made owt o t' change at bed 
come ower t' lady love, 'er two gert cousinns wor i t' rahm an 
'e 'd fun 'issen taen bi t' skuft o t' neck : 

" We s' teych ye to try whip wer cousinn ! " the shahted, 
as the dragged 'im aht o doors. 

"Hod, bud ye're wrang wrang," spluttered Amos through 
t' fingers at wor ower 'is mahth ; "it wor all a maerlerk o 

" Nowt o t' kind ! It war a faerk o yars. Aht wi ye ; 
an if we're telt ye come rahnd 'ere ageean, ye s'ev a gold 
poisin for t' Hollindael lass sake an all ! " Then they sleng 
'im aht an left 'im. 

Eeh, bud this wor ower mich to thoil for Skaife lad ! 

"Curse Hollindael lass!" 'e yelled. "It's through 'er, 
this ; curse 'er an t' fairy ring wi 'er ! Tul t' lang pasture 
I'm bahn ; an come Hollindael lass ther sal be an end on 't! " 

'E louped ower a drain-grip, an scrawmin up a tree bi 
t' hey wall o t' Manor Hall grahnds 'e scrammel'd on to t' 
stooan an sluthered dahn t' other side. Neet wor agate wi 
black clahds shuttin off t' day beheend t' glum moors, an t' 
little puddles under owd brokken fences wor lairkin at bein 
silver dykes, whol dark, ghoastlike swifties slithered through 
t' twileet sky, athwart ivvry path, like deead men goid wishes, 
bud nowt wor seen by Amos Skaife. ' Dahn tul t' lang 
pasture wor 'e makkin ; nor stopped 'e till 'e hed reiked it an 
'e wor stood aneyth t' owd sycamore. 

"Fairies or whoe'er it be at made this ring, curses on 
ye!" 'e shahted. "Curses on ye an Hollindael lass an 
all !" An sewer 'is hate o t' lass wor ronk ! 

Bud t' unlikely comes rahnd ower-oft. When Skaife lad 
hed done, t' sycamore shuddered thro clutchin root to 
ditherin twig, an all t' grean leeaves whispered strangely 
ameng thersens. Amos glanced up into t' tree, an then 
dahn to t' fairy ring; an theer i t' middle o t' ring wor Lily 
Hollindael! Nit far off wor a gert stooan, an wi a yell o 

rage Amos rushed forrard an liffin it up 'e hurled it like a 
madman at t' lass. Bud asteead on it touchin 'er it went 
an brak oppen ageean t' sycamore, an aht on it spreng- a 

This wor seen by Scaife lad, bud t' fairies on a suddin 
bed made all t' loveliness o Hollindael lass be read in 'er face, 
an t' seet on 'er drave 'im fond-wild for love on 'er: 

"Lily, lass," 'e waeled, "I hev been blinnd, an sewer! 
Why hev I forgetten thi to nah ? Bud ta is mah lass; I'll 
wed thi, an I sal, by goi !" 

Then t' listenin sycamore leeaves whispered an laughed 
ameng thersens. 

"Amos," said Hollindael lass, i words sweet sahndin as 
t 1 purlin o runnin watter, "why did ta brek mi heart ?" 

"Bye-goans, Hollindael lass, are bye-goans!" An 'e 
went tards 'er. 

"Ne, bud I am'it bahn wi thi, Amos. Witta goa wi 

"Sewer I will." An 'e followed 'er through t' lang 
pasture, rahnd bi a coppice o hep-brears till 'e'd fun the war 
i t' dael. 

"Wheer's ta leadin, lass? Ta moant forget at t' beck 
dike's 'ere abaht !" 

" Noan I, Amos; mi een are bliew, an ther's dayleet e em 
when it's twileet goan," sa softly answered. An 'e followed 

"Lily, lass, ta's ower nimble for ma! Hod whol I 
come," 'e gasped ageean, reight aht o breeath, an flayd; 
" ther's summat white like a sea o yarrow blooims afoor ma. 
What is't, Lily lass? T' mooin's ower-cussen." 

Bud sa nobbud gav a laugh ; an nettled at 'er finndin 'e 
wor freetened 'e spreng reight ameng what 'e hed thowt 
wor yarrow blosm. Lahd ringin war 'is shrikes as a flayd 
bird skirl, an hill bandied em tul hill ; Skaife lad hed 
tummel'd head-lang i t' white, foam-skummed water o t' 
foist beck dike, an 'e wor drahndin ! 


An as 'e failed i t' Ower-lang Sleeap 'e thowt at t' frog at 
bed jumped aht o t' stooan 'e'd brokken agean t' sycamore 
bed been browt to life bi t' fairies soa it med tell a hunderd 
frogs or moor to biddy t' dike watter wi t' frog spit. An then 
'e seed at ower a year agoan Hollindael lass bed deed thro a 
brokken heart. 

'E put aht a hand to 'Evn. Bud a scutch thro t' dark sky 
fell on it, an t' slow syke whispered thro below : 

"Ye sal wed noan bud t' deead, ye sal !" 


IT'S neet an nah we're here, lads, 
We're in for gooid cheer, lads ! 
Yorkshermen we all on us are, 
Yorkshermen for better or war ! 
We' tykes an we' ghast uns, 
We' pade uns an fast uns 
Awther for better or awther for war ! 


Then shaht till ye've gorr hooast, lads ! 
Sing: "Yorkshermen, wer tooast, lads ! 
Wer king, wer heeath, wer hahnds, lads ! 
Wer hooam, wer hearth, wer bahns, lads !" 

The's some at nooan are here, lads ! 

Forger em we sal ne'er, lads ! 

Yorkshermen the all on em war ! 

Yorkshermen yit all on em are ! 

The's thrang uns an looan uns, 

The's wick uns an gooan uns ! 

The're all reight somewheer an we s' be noa war ! 


Then shaht till ye've gorr hooast, lads ! 
Sing: "Yorkshermen, wer tooast, lads ! 
Wer king, wer heeath, wer hahnds, lads ! 
Wer hooam, wer hearth, wer bahns, lads !" 


HAH t' midges made for fowk on t' day when we all on us 
went tul t' woods of a September afternoin, wi ahr black an 
tan Scots collie Lassie, an 'er gert pup Colin, wi us to sleet at 
owt ! The mud a knooad we wor comin, an I'm seur the'd 
clammed thersens soa the could mak a reyt meyl on us. 
The mud a knooad an all at we wor lads, an at we sud be 
stark-naked soin as ivver we gor agean t' beck-hoil, else 
wer mothers wod neer a hed to wesh us all-ower i milk to 
lay t' midge bites at-efter as the hed. 1 Shots ! an worn't t 
first lang dive an t' spleshin do we hed wi freetened Jud 
Hodgins worth it all ! We fair sossed 'im ! 

I can tell when wer clooas wor stown, an hah we 
scrawmed up t' trees to hiddy fro fowk at corned wer way. 
Bud t' day at Hodgin lad wor wi us nob'dy faerked to steyl 
a cloa we wor wild an reyt. We couldn't thoil to hod at 
Jud wod ger hooam aneyth 'is father rig ageean baht finndin 
t' warld hed taistrils in 't. 

At-efter we'd hed a bade i t' beck we went a-waspin, an 
fan a wasp-nest at foit 'n a esh. 

" Nah, Jud," we said tul Hodgin lad, " tha'rt nooan up 
to lairkin wi t' waspies. Get thi scrawmed intul t' trei, reyt 
aht o t' rooad, afoor we ger agate o mellin wi t' nest. Pike 
off. We moant ha thee mankin wi it, mun we, Brookie ? " 

" Noa, an we moant." 

Soa we gav Jud a leg-up intul t' esh ; an reyt chuf 'e wor, 
for 'e wor allus flayd o me an Brookie hevin a maerlerk wi 
'im. Then we rived dreed owd twitch gers, an stuffed it 
chockful o t' twitch, an Brookie gat t' gers agate. 

1 An experience the present writer has enjoyed in the circumstances given. 



"Ye nooan bahn to burn t' esh dahn, are yi?" 

" Nor us ; doant thee lois thi peeak. Sithi, it does nowt 
bud reeak ; an tha'rt nooan bahn to be flayd on a puther, is 

"Nor I, I sudn't mind t' puther if war nor gers wor 
ma'in it, bud ye twoa are allus up to summat an " 

" Gi ower shahtin," we said. " Hah sal we gerr all t' 
waspies aht if we dooant smook em ? " 

" An will it daze em ? " 'e ast; an 'e war e a way. 

"Ahr, it'll daze em," we answered. " Tha wanted to 
bring- thi mother cower-rake wi thi." 

" Cowl-raerk, yi meean ! " 

" Nah then, poyt t' gers aht," said Brookie to me, " t' 
hoil's reyt Gagged up wi muck an stooans." Soa I scethered 
it aht wi a lang stick like a potter, an then we scuttered 
off as if we med a been gert freetened arrands, for we wor 
all legs as lads. Whew ! t' waspies puthered aht i a reight 
clahd, an I neer stopped till a brammel legged me dahn. 
Brookie wor ommost brussen wi laughin, an couldn't speyk. 
Bud all t' while ther wor sich lahd shrikes thro t' top o t' 
esh, an we knooad t' waspies hed fun t' soft gauvison, an at 
'e wor thrang. Eeh, it war a gooid seet to see Jud Hodgins 
sluther. Bud once on t' grahnd ageean 'e made dahn tul t' 
beck-hoil like a wild an. 

"Come on after 'im," shahted Brookie, "f waspies hev 
getten i 'is clooas, an 'e'll chuck 'issen i t' beck for to drahnd 

By shots, bud it war a race ; an we nobbud clicked hod 
on 'im bi t' beck-hoil. Then Brookie gan an gav 'im a 

"Nay, what's ta payin 'im for, Brookie?" says I. 
" Tha'll brek ivvry booan e 'is hide." 

"Oh, stash it! stash it, Brookie! what's ta sluggin 
me for!" hockered Jud. "Does ta want to kill ma or 
summat ! " 

" Ahr, tha knooas what t' lads say Bradfeild an Shevvild 

7 6 

rooard, ' Cauf wick, cah wick, bull wick, come thi ways 
piggy-jack, come to t' scratch ! ' Does ta like saim on 
tooast? I can eyt kitchin crusses slaped wi t' drippin, till 
t' cahs come up. Nah then soft 'n, off wi thi sark shut 
thi punky faerce or I sal slug thi an reyt ! Hah's ta undo 
thi galluses ? Why, lewk 'ere at fower wasps i 'is sark at 
I've mushed flat ageean 'im. The nobbud kittled. Kick em 
i t' watter an ler em hev a swim like wer kitlins, an t' 
ratton at we fan. Hey, bid, bid, biddy duck. Dig, dig, 
diggie, diggie ! Off nah wi thi sark an thi flannin cinglit." 
An yarkin em off wi a jert 'e gav em me to shak. 

" Gie ower blutherin Jud, tha'rt like to rooar, bud tha 
art a kid ! Sithi, t' waspies hev getten i Lassie coit ! Lewk 
hah sha's feighin ! Tha made us flayd o settin fire to t' 
touchwood i t' trei, an t' waspies didn't get reight dazed. 
We sudn't a browt thee wi us, for tha'rt allus gerrin us 
into bother. Thi knop's weeat yit ; bud what's ta done wi 
thi lip ? It's as big ageean ! " 

"Tha knooas what it is," bluthered Hodgins lad; "a 
wasp tenged me theer. It's t' worsist I've ivver hed." 

" I'n't it spiffin at killin days!" said I to Brookie, as if 
Jud hedn't spokken. " I allus ass to fotch t' ale up for t' 
pig-sticker an t' men when the're hoddin t' pig on t' scratch. 
Ye dooan't hear t' squeeals soa on t' cellar-heead or i t' cellar, 
then. If it worn't wer oan pig it could squeeal t' lairth 
dahn an goa on till t' varry stee flegs wor splitten, I sudn't 
mind nowt." 

"Thee get thi 'is things on ! Tha knooas I've getten a 
demmicked thumb," said Brookie to me, nooan heedin. 
" I'm bahn tul t' top o yon ollin. Ther's a throssle nest I 
wor lewkin at i t' nestin-time, day mi mother brother thro 
Reeavy Beeacon, ower bi t' top o Whibsa, browt mi t' pair o 
jimmers for mi rabbit-hoil, afoor the'd flitten to Whibsa Slack. 
Ther wor nobbud one egg in. I'm bahn to sey if it's gooan." 

When Jud wor agean summat a bit like, Brookie corned 
back wi a throssle egg. 


" It's a forsak, an it'll be addled, bud I s'l ta it hooam an 
blow it." 

Bud we went moor intul t' woods. 

" I ne'er knooad tha'd bed thi jimmers gen thi," said I, 
" an I allus thowt tha'd awther fun em or snaked em." 

Then we loised Brookie, an when we fan 'im 'e wor packin 
'issen wi blegs, as monny as 'e could sam, an eytin em till 'e 
wor fair gloppen'd. 

" Wag's !" I shahts; " we goa whacks ! " 

" Ye're nawther bahn whacks, nor wags, nor shags. Mi 
cousinn thro Stannin'ton allus says 'wags an shags!' 
Shevvild rooad, it is. Bud ye mun gerr em yarsen seea, I 
hev this pockit reyt full on em. Ther's a skep-ful ! I st hug 
em hooam missen." 

" Eeh, weant it be spiffin ! the'll mak a reight dumplin 
on em to-morn !" spak up Jud, wakknin fro 'is mardy sulk, 
an 'e gan to cram his pockits wi t' blegs. "The' called 
bummelkites i t' daels." 

"Dumplin maks ahr Sis gip," said Brookie, "an sha 
weant eyt nowt sad nawther. Sha can allus smell if t' breead's 
dazin i t' oven. 'Sal I put some mooar coil on, mother?' 
sha shahts; 't' looaves are dazin ! The'll be reight dazed ! 
Ye knooa I sarn't eyt owt at clags!' An sha ommost rooars. 
I'n't sha soft? Bud I dooant like owt clarty missen. It 
maks me bocken. Soa does owt walsh and worf. I wish we 
hed some milk; I'm ommost sleekened !" 

" Ahr," said I, " an I could sup a reight panshunful, wi a 
chunk o moggy ; or a drop o rabbit broth wi whot meyl 

"I could sup a maidnin-pot full!" said Hodgins lad, 
puttin on t' man a bit. 

Then Brookie telt us we could goa whacks if we wod put 
wer blegs i 'is gert handkercher; an when it wor teed up wi 
t' throssle egg, a bonnie bruntlin, reight wick, some ackrens, 
some rowans, an greean aighs, an breet red poison berries, an 
t' cowk 'n a gert greean apple 'e'd scrumped, we all set off 


hooamards. Bud t' blegs neer gor hooam, for Brookie 
dropped all t' lot on em off'n 'is stick i t' middle o t' rooad, 
an the wor all mushed up wi t' addled throssle egg. 

"Tha wants thi mother skummer !" laughed Hodgin lad. 

Sin this wor I hev fun missen an owd man, an thoa mi 
legs wacker neyth ma, an I'm a bit hard o hearin, an t' best 
fowks reckon to say abaht ma is at I'm reyt an canny for mi 
years, yit I knooa, somehah, I'm t' same owd sen I wor when 
I went scrumpin mi father apples wi t' hill-top gang. Things 
hev getten nobbud t' leeast bit aht o gear: When mi father 
wor t' squire t' owd parson said it wor a shame hah I gav 
mi father apples tuv all t' wild lads abaht ; an nah E am t' 
squire, t' new parson tells ma at it is a shame hah mah son 
lad steyls mi apples an gi's em tul t' mouchers abaht. God 
bless em ! bud weeant I shak mi stick at em when I set een on 
t' young rapscallions t' raffle-toppins em ! 

Bud it's bleggin time ageean, an yis'da I went dahn to t' 
kirk to see t' bedizenin the'd been giein it for t' harvis. Ther 
worn't a bleg to con ameng it all ! I corned aht slow threw 
t' kirk-garth, an mi een dropt on tul a little stiff owd chap 
chuckin t' muck aht'n a buryin-hoil bi t' causa walk. For 
monny a year I'd bin away fro t' owd hooam, an soa as I 
thowt t' chap wodn't knooa ma, I made up tuv 'im, an ast 
hah lang 'e med a bin at 'is job. 

" Sin ivver I can tell, ommost." 

" Then it's a while an reight," said I ; " bud ye'll nooan bi 
noa war for hevin hed to graft." 

" Happen an I sal, happen an I sarn't. I've awther hed to 
addle mi meyt or clam. Neer bite nor sup I've hed sin mi 
loisin, bud what I addled missen." 

" Then yi hed a loisin ?" 

"Ahr, an I hed, an I've hed to goa short shacks ivver 
sin," said 'e, leeanin on t' mattock; "an nobbud yis'da, it 
seems sin the seng ' Hod yer liquor aboon yer chin !' ' 

" Ne, an it wor n't yis'da," said I. 

" An it warn't, squire." 


" Whoa telt yi I wor t' squire ? " 

" I reckon I sud want nob'dy to tell mi, bud happen ye'd 
a to hev som'dy to tell whoa I wor." 

" Why, an whoa med yi be ? " 

"Om Jud." 

"Jud? I dooan't mind t'name," said I. "Bud hod! 
nah I comes to goa back, ther wor a lad o t' name at lairked 
abaht wi ma when I wor a lad missen. I knooad 'im when 
'e wared a brat. 'Is fowk thoa warn't soa varry weeal off 
I think, bud when mi father sent me away thro hooam I 
loss sect on 'im. I can tell when we all on us wod goa 
chumpin in t' woods for Bunfire Day, when mi mother tharf- 
cake wor smellin hot i t' oven, an sha wor makkin t' scotch ; 
an hah we wod sing afoor t' hahses 

' Oily coily, Bunfire Day, 
If ye doant gie us some coil, 
Or gie us some sleek, 
We'll all on us come an knock off yer door sneck ! ' 

I've nooan heeard it said of laert. We said an all, tha 

' Remember, remember t' fift o November 
An t' Gunpowder Plot ! 
Gi mi some coil, cowks or sleek, 
Or I'll oily coily yar door sneck ! ' 

It allus riled mi father at I went maets wi a wildish cletch. 
Bud I've sin fun sich lads mak reight men o young fowk. 
Jud at I knooad wor a bit of a shandy, freetened soort i 'is 
way; 'e wor nobbud a jimmy little chap an all." 

" An 'e war," said t' owd delver. 

" Why, did ye knooa Jud o t' Loin Ends, t' top o t' Delf 
Hill, bi t' crookl'd owd red aigh ? " 

T' owd man doubled 'is kneive an bared 'is arm aboon 
t' shackle, up tul t' elbow: 

" Lewk at this arr; it wor done all thro ye an Brookie, 
when 'e gav me a kahl ! " 


" Why, tha'rt Jud ! " I wor reight hooarse. 

"Yah, an I'm Jud," said 'e wi a bit of a wacker i t' 
words. " Dooant lewk at mi clooas; t' mence is taen aht 
on 'em. I'm rayther mucky an all, an could dew wi a goid 
sowl at t' sink-stooan." 

"Way, Jud lad," I said, "I'm reight an flayd at tha's 
made bad aht. Hes ta nooa bahns ? " 

"Ye see t' owd elder clump bi t' church end yonder? 
ther's fower on 'em theer, an t' wife." 

I wiped mi een, an summat weeat wor kitlin mi cheek: 

"I'm glad I seed thi, Jud," said I; "we booath on us 
owd nah, an tha'rt a bit younger nor mei, bud if ivver tha 
wants owt send thi for me; an if I dee first I s' nooan forget 
thi, nother." 

" It's reight gooid o ye, Squire. I've allus hed to leearn 
hah to prog aht for missen, an I sal be like to dee i mi 

"Tha nivver knooas," I put in, slivin a guinea i 'is 'and, 
an fetchin 'im a nope. " Siew yis'da, sow to-morn. Thooas 
at siew seid once, sal sow ageean. Does ta mind i t' 
bleggin days when Brookie teld thi to goa intul t' esh whol 
wi reeaked t' wasp nest ? " 

" I nobbud reckened a-Sat'da," said 'e, lewkin a bit soft 
ower t' brass, an shamin. " Bud ahr ahr, I mind t' wasp 
nest weel. It wor i t' bleggin days, worn't it an nah it's 
t' bleggin days ageean ! " 

'E wor that slockened, an 'is mahth that twitchy I couldn't 
thoil it, an felt reight wammy missen. I thowt I sud swelt; 
soa I made an ast wheer Brookie wor, an if 'e hed flitten 
fro t' hill top, an hah 'e wor gerrin on ameng it all. 

" Om delvin nah for Brookie," wor t' answer; " 'e deed 
nobbud t' day afoor yis'da, an to-morn the bahn to lig 'im 
'ere ! " 


SUMMER, gooid-bye ! 
I say soa wi a sigh 

Hark, wer tide's corned ! 

T' wind is cowd at neets 
When on t' moor-side are leets, 
An wer tide's corned ! 

Gipsies are at t' door, 
Ther caravan's on t' moor : 
Ahr, wer tide's corned ! 

Theer are bud moors nah, 
To hem wer hamlet brah, 
Wheer wer tide conies ! 

Time ma show to fowk 
A spot all spread wi cowk, 
Wheer wer tide comes ! 

An yit, little tide, 
At breetens wer moor side, 
I wry year come ! 

An sud tahn be theer, 
Seek aht a place at's clear, 
Let wer tide come ! 


Wer owd, happy tide, 
At oft finnds lad a bride 
We glad ye've corned ! 

Summer, gooid-bye ! 
T* hills purple ling says " hie," 
An wer tide's corned ! 



IN t' North Countree* 

Ther liv'd a kneyt 
O heigh degree, 

Sir Walter height. 

Sir Walter hed 

Bud dowters twain, 

One Winifred, 
The tother Jane. 

An Jane for love 

Sha soin wed; 
Bud noan for love 

Wed Winifred. 

Asteead sha said 

Sweetheart sud bide, 

Till t' brass he hed 
To tak a bride. 

An owd sha gat 

An fahl to see, 
Wi grabbin at 

Bud gowd an fee. 

At last ther deed 

Her sister Jane, 
An t' husband he'd 

In t' wars bin slain. 


Beheend the left 
An elfin lass, 

At thoa bereft, 

Hed lands an brass. 

Her een wor blew, 
Her hair floss gowd ; 

Her years bud few : 
Ten harvists mow'd. 

Yit lands an brass 
T' a'nt fro her taed, 

An soin t' lass 

Becomed her maid. 

A maid to sing, 

A maid to sew, 
A maid to bring 

A cannel low. 

At eventide, 

One S'omas Day, 
T' a'nt, heart-brak, cried, 

' ' O weel-a-day ! 

" O weel-a-day ! 

It's neigh on Yule, 
An Kersmas Day 

At maes mi pule ! 


"An nah agean, 

We've etten t' cakes, 
At bahns the leearn 

S'nt Thomas bakes. 


"An nah agean, 

Wer balks the hing, 

Wi ivin grean 
An laurel ring." 

Sha set alooan 
In t' ingle nook, 

To wheer sha'd gooaa 
Like one forsook. 

Her een wor clapp'd 
On t' ingle glow, 

An as it happ'd, 
Ther war noa low. 

Her face wor wan 
Her grey een breet ; 

Enah, sa gan 
To mak a leet. 

"O lilly low, 

Mi heart is cowd ; 
O lilly low, 

An E am owd ! 

"Bud lilly low 

If nah ta blaze, 
To mei 't sal show 

For breeter days. 

" An sud ther be 
Noa low to lairk, 

'T sal mean for me 
Noa weddin cairk." 


An fond as lass 

At love wod leearn, 

Sa skared aht t' ass 
Till t' grate wor cleean. 

Sha t' potter taed 

To polsh t' black coil, 

For t' daft-dahn made 
Bud reeak i t' hoil. 

A crozz'l'd log 
On t' ingle spit, 

An peat thro t' bog 
A-smoulther'd wi 't. 

Yit noan a low 

Fro awther flick'd, 

Till ollin bough 

On t' wall sha click'd. 

Till ollin bough 
Wi berries sprent, 

To mak a low 
On t' ingle went. 

O berries breet ! 

O ollin grean ! 
Yar Yule to-neet 

Wor mull'd bi t' meean ! 

Bud ollin greean, 
An berries red ! 

It corned ageean 
On Winifred. 


For taain greean 

To mak a leeat, 
It corned ageean 

On t' makky cheeat ! 

" O lilly low," 

Agean sa gan, 
" Wi' t' flicker, low, 

If t' fire I fan ? 

" Wi' t' flicker, low, 
An end mi freet, 

Bi burnin t' bough 
Wi blazes breet?" 

An sayin soa, 

Sha clew'd her gahn, 
An wi a rooar, 

Sha kneyl'd her dahn. 

Bud tears wor staved, 
For waffin hand 

Gav t' leet sha craved 
As wi a wand ! 

O breet wor t''leeat 
Thro t' ingle then ; 

An t' log an t' peeat 
The blazed agen ! 

An noan sa greeaves 
At berries breet, 

An ollin leeaves, 
Sud mak a leet ! 


It meeans a wife 
Sha'll triewly be, 

It meeans a life 
Wi go wd an 

For shoo'd noan wed, 
Sin bride sha'd be, 

Bud man at bed 
Fat lands to see. 

O sprutter leeaves ! 

O berries sing- ! 
As t' dreedist seeaves 

An t' wickist ling ! 

Nit t' ony greean 
An wick are ye, 

At freshness t' meean 
Hev browt to dee ! 

Bud nah t' a'nt stands, 
An turns fro t' sect, 

To clap her hands 
For cannel leet. 

In corned her maid ; 

'Twor Hilda lass 
At t' a'nt noan flayd, 

Hed bilk'd o t' brass. 

Wi gowden hair, 

An skyey een, 
Sa war as fair 

As elfin queen. 


Yit tears the well, 

Sha softly waels, 
Her cheeks the tell 

Two scarlet taels. 

For t' ollin bough 
Wi berries sprent, 

Tul t' lass wi show 
O love wor sent, 


" O wheer's mi bough 

O ollin grean ? 
T' red-berried bough 

Fro t' wall I meean !" 


" On t' fire it's gooan 
To mak a leet, 

It blaze wor noan 
An ugly sect." 


" O shameful deed, 
To mak a leet 

Of e'en a weed, 
On S'omas neet !" 

T' a'nt cried anoan, 
"What lip at me ! 

Ho, get ye gooan, 
An goa an hee !" 


Bud shahts are heeard, 
Wi welts on mail, 

An reight afeard 
T' a'nt gies a wail. 


"O Hilda bide 

Nor leeave mi nah, 

O let us hide, 
An let us cah !" 


" Sin soa I'm telt, 
E sooth I bide; 

Bud I wod swelt 
Afoor I'd hide." 

An nah on t' door 
Ring" swankin blows, 

An t' men the gooa 
Wi staves an lows. 

" O oppen t' door 
An shelter mei, 

At's wounded sore 
Bi robbers threi. 

" O heigh degree 
I am, mi name 

Is Sir John Lee, 
O Flodden fame." 

The oppen t' door 
An say wi pride, 

" O rich or poor, 

Wer door-stun stride !" 


When t' tidins wan 

Tul Winifred, 
Sha said 't wor t' man 

At shoo wod wed. 

For weel sa knooad 

At Sir John Lee 
Hed accres brooad, 

An gowd an fee. 

Bud noan sha thowt 

At Hilda bough, 
Fro t' woods wor browt 

John love to show. 

For monny days 

Did Sir John lig, 
As i a maze, 

Aneyth this rig. 

Yit foor he left 
He said he'd wed, 

Nit t' young an t' deft, 
Bud Winifred ! 

Hah breet to wed 
This weddin day, 

When t' Avril med 
A been a May ! 

Aboon t' lavrocks 
Wor cheeatin aht ; 

An t' lady clocks 
The fligg'd abaht. 


An t' daisies skenn'd, 
Wi yolla ee, 

To see who'd wend 
Wi Sir John Lee. 

When t' bishop spak 
In t' kirk he said, 

"Two-twooas, alack, 
To-day I s' wed ! 

"Ther fower names 
Hev thrice bin ast, 

An, kneyts an dames, 
I'll wed em fast ! 

"O Sir John Lee 
An Hilda Weir, 

Tho twain are ye, 
As one sal fare." 

" Bud noa an noa !" 
Said Winifred ; 

" It noan is soa, 
Sir John E wed!" 

Spak t' bishop: "Bride 
Sud knooa her name, 

Soa prithi bide 

If thine's nit t' same." 

Bi nah Hilda 

Hed forrard gooan ; 
Nor lang wor sha 

To stand alooan. 


Tul Hilda side 

Come Sir John Lee, 
An kuss'd his bride, 

For all to see. 

For all to see, 

'T wor Hilda Weir, 
Wi t' skyey ee 

An t' gowden hair. 

Bud nah beside 

T' a'nt Winifred, 
To call her bride, 

Stood Wat Aired ! 

Stood Wat Aired, 

At lang, for owt, 
Sha vvodn't wed, 

For bein nowt. 


" Wer spurrins ast 

Full thrice hev been, 
An t' bishop fast 

Can wed I ween. 

" We nah are owd," 

Wat further said, 
" Bud noan a dowd 

Hev I to wed." 


" Mi Walter lad," 

Wep Winifred, 
" Bud E am glad 

At thee I s'wed. 


" 'T wor wrang o mei 
To waste wer tears ; 

'T wor wrang o mei 
To waste wer years. 

' ' To waste wer life 
Wor burnin t' greean, 

For I a wife 

Med lang a beean ! " 

Soa fowk all leearn, 
'Tis wrang to waste 

Owt wick an greean, 
An t' days at haste. 


YE ma bring- me gowd bi t' bowlful, 

Gi me lands bi t' mile, 

Fling me dewy roses, 

Stoor set on mi smile ; 
Ye ma cahr ye dahn afoor me, 

Castles for me build, 

Twine me laurel garlands, 

Let sweet song be trill'd ; 
Ye ma let mi meyt be honey, 

Let mi sup be wine, 

Gi me hahnds an bosses, 

Gi me sheep an kine. 
Yit one flayd kuss fro her wod gie 

Sweeter bliss to mei, 
Nor owt at ye could finnd to name, 
Lait ye thro sei tul sei. 

I've seen her hair gleeam gowden 

In t' Kersmas yolla sun, 
An ivvry inch o grahnd sha treeads, 
Belang her seur it mun. 

Her smile is sweet as roses, 

An sweeter far to me ; 
An prahd sha hods her heead up 

As lass o heigh degree. 
Bonnie are greean laurel leaves 
I'd sooiner mi brah feel 
T' laughin lips o t' lass I love, 
Thoa bays be varry weel. 


I'm varry fond o singin : 

What bonnier could be 

Nor mah fair lass hersen agate 

A-singing love to me ! 

It's reight to live on spice an sich, 

An sup a warmin glass ; 

Bud sweet-stufPs walsh, an wine is cowd, 

Aside mi lovely lass. 

Tak ye yar hahnds an bosses, 

Tak ye yar sheep an kine ; 

To finnd mi lass ower t' hills I'll ride, 

Sha sal be ivver mine ! 




Come Yorkshermen an gie ye heed, 

Come listen for to hear 
Hah Robin Hood wor like yarsens, 

An noan could thoil a sleer. 

For Yorksher bred wor Robyn Hood 

An born i Loxley Chase, 
A counterie I knooa, or sud, 

I laik'd theer days an days. 

To tell yi I wor Sheffield born 

Is nobbud reight an meet ; 
Soa I can say at Loxley Chase 

Wod hide fro t' dogs the sleet 

Wi gert heigh crags an dingles dim, 

Wi trees grean-weft aboon, 
An ollins felther'd fast wi breers, 

Ye couldn't finnd a loon. 

To toot a blast i Loxley Chase 

I've taen mi horn at oft, 
E Haddon Hall, a kinsman says, 

Hes wakken'd bats i t' loft. 

97 7 


Thro rahm an rahm i Haddon Hall 
Mi mellow horn the reng ; 

Thro hill tul hill i Loxley Chase 
It toot-toot oft I fleng. 

Mi horn is i mi other hand 

As nah I for ye wreet ; 
One toot I gie, bud swop mi hand 

To let a lang toot cheet. 

I see a nest o t' feather-poke 
One toot-toot o t' horn fan, 

An years roll back as thoa a spole 
Mi early days unspan. 

merrie 'twar to hunt wi t' hahnds 
All thro this counterie, 

An wheer wer ollin, fir an larch 
Wor allus grean to see. 

1 mind a kek wi hezels dim, 
Wi brammel wires thrang, 

An brear-buish clumps soa heigh, 
Esh leeaves the wor amang. 

'Twor here I fan a moudiwarp 
At skin I lang hev kep, 

'Twor here for blegs an nuts I corned, 
Or ligg'd ma dahn an slep. 

I've seen a throssle here on t' nest, 

At foit o t' brears, cahr 
Wi oppen ee, an flayd, lig low 
Whol pull'd I sprig or flab. 


It war mah kek, mi varry ooan, 

An finnd it ye wod ne'er ; 
Bud if I shut mi een a bit, 

I think at E am theer. 

Till sooin fill wer glaeds wi men 
All donn'd i Lincoln greean, 

Wi Robin Hood an Little John, 
As triewly ye sal leearn. 

" O hoa !" shahts Robin, "come arahnd, 

We'll hev a merry day; 
Bi fahl owd wench I hev bin teld 

What fowk o me will say. 

" An say when neyth wer woodland gers 

I gloar at ackren spruts, 
An when missen I've goan aboon 

Ah heeard yar goid-shuts." 


" We ne'er sal say goid-shut to ye, 
Wer Robyn Hode," said John, 

" A leeader, like a quiver keeps 
Shafts keen till fey tin's done." 


" Ne I sal nivver ass for shaft 

Nor keener nor mi John, 
Nor onny man at grey gois wing 

Wer woodland hoam hes won. 


" Theas fahl owd deam sha nobbud telt 
At some day fowk vvod say 

Ther nivver war a Robin Hode, 
Yit talk on me alway ! " 


"A merry jest !" laft Little John, 
" To-day we've tael as breet ; 

It is at t' king he wants a hoss 
To marrer an be fleet." 


" As like it is to mate a wench 
For sweet lips, wit an leearnin, 

For triewness at ye e'er med try, 
An lewks to keep ye yeearnin. 

" Bud tell me then, tell Robin Hood, 

What kind o hoss it be, 
An trieu as ther is Robin Hood 

I'll finnd this hoss for ye. 

" Come tell 't to me, or I sal think 

Ta's sad flayd I s' finnd it ; 
I s' match this hoss wi one soa strang 

Noa Yorksher hill sal wind it." 

Then spak Joa Whittel, t' Shevvild chap, 

At wheel i Rivlin war, 
Till t' Loxla set a bensillin 

Hed gen him, an sent far. 



" Yo want to tee a grindle-cowk 

Abaht mi neck I see ; 
Bur I shall ha to tell it aht 

What e'er yo do at me. 

"As sure as wheel-swarf barkles t' hands 

t' grinder i his hull ; 

As sure as Rivlin hardens reight, 
A tale I nivver mull. 

" I'm Shevvild made, boath heft an blade, 

1 waint be threpp'd aht'n it ; 
An when I have a wellin heeat, 

Yo kno ther is noa daht'n it. 

" Yo m' all on yer stash t' jabber, 

An yo st be at Den bank 
E Rivlin, wheer mi wheel wer, 

Afore t' dam-watter stank. 

" All swath'd wi sweeat an reight forlorn, 

I seed a kneyt last neet, 
A deckin mare tak dahn to sup 

A varry welcome seet. 

"I'd had aboon mi whack o cake, 

A tharf-cake brunn'd reight black, 
An wengy as a stale owd cheese 

Yo'd wi a hatchet hack. 

" ' Good lad,' I said, ' ger aht o t' gate, 

Thi hoss I want reight bad ; 
Wi Robin Hode I mun be soon, 

An t' cake I've etten's sad ! ' 


" Soa scar'd he wer when Robin Hode, 

Bi name aloan wor clois, 
I geed missen a brod reight chuff 

An said, ' Tha ma'es noa noise ! 

" ' I weel kno hah to stride a hoss, 

Becoss I used to could ; 
Belike an I shall bilk yo on't : 

I love a mare at's blood !' 

" When soa I spak it blended t' kneyt : 
He said ' yo moant mell on't ; 

To arle a penny yo st ha t' chonce 
If theivin i'n't yore wont. 

" ' Thro Lunnon tahn I've corned,' he said; 

I should a rooard wi laffin, 
Soa hetterly his words he spak 

I ommost wanted waffin. 

" He teld me hah, as nah yo kno, 
At t' king a mount is wantin, 

To marrer wi a hoss he has, 
An for it owt is grantin. 

" An then he ax'd me spare his mare 

Becoss he hard wor ridin, 
To gie a bastin to an erle 

At had a maid i hidin. 


" ' O, han yo heart at sect o t' lock 

At mah lass once geed mi, 
To leeave mi dous'd wi sweeat baht hoss, 

Afoor yore Robyn seed mi ! 


44 4 Have thowt on me i such a plight, 

An we shall be sworn-brothers ! 
Jf Robin Hood yo war I'm sure 

Yo'd think o lass at bluthers.' 


44 ' Way, t' hoss is yourn,' I said to him ; 

4 I'm wimin up missen 
Fro wheer I've been done reyt aht on, 

Bi some o t' Loxla men. 

44 4 Tha goes thi ways, bur nor afoor 

I've had a chonce to lar 
What kind o hoss it be t' king wants, 

An if to tilt or plah. 

44 * For nawther busk nor hag nor wall, 

Shall hiddy fro me such an.' 
Soa reight he geed me t' build o t' hoss 

At me should mak a rich an. 

4< As breet as coit-mail smither-slek'd 

His eye wor when he went, 
An rade away reyt o'er Den Bank, 

Bi Bell Hag's stooan an bent. 

44 Soa birle me aht a sup o ale ; 

Gi me mi scran thro t' bass, 
Then string me up to t' wiggen bough 

For what I did for t' lass. 

44 I've teld yo all on a fullock, 

Bud if mi tale mut cree, 
A fledglin fro ahr Rivlin cletch 

Al ne'er hing thro ash tree." 



" Thi edge is reight," said Robin then, 
" Bud t' fasch noan tul mi mind ; 

Tha brades o Shevvild tho tha hings, 
An esh-key of a kind." 


"A boss yo howd bi t' strunt waint kick, 
An yo are mi hoss-maister ; 

Or else I'm like an egg i t' cratch 
To brek, if good or waster." 


Soa Joa spak up to Robin Hode, 
An made him fairly goster : 

"An eye-sore, Joa, an esh wod be 
At snickl'd sich a roster ! 

" We s' mak o this a cakin-day ; 

Soa say baht fleribokes, 
An t' tael o t' sloamin lass tha's heeard, 

What's this o t' hoss tha talks. 

" We bahn to hev a lekkin soin, 
It lewks like thunner nah ; 

Come ler us hev thi tael reight sharp 
Afoor ther's bigger rah." 


" It's nobbut, way, a drip-white hoss, 
O fifteen hands, an mettle, 

Wi raitch at's brun between it eyes, 
An lang tail reight i fettle. 


" An t' raitch mun have a starry blaze 

Wheer five spike-ends abide, 
An three shall show aboon, while two 

Shall be at t' bottom side. 

" It mun be fast an brokken in, 

An nivver stall or recast, 
Nor mun a single hair bur white 

Be fun, baht t' blaze at leeast." 


" Then we will send tul t' king straight ways," 

Said Robin Hood wi glee, 
" Goid tidins for to say I knooa 

Wheer his hoss marrer be ! 

"Tul goid Joa gie t' hine-berry pie 

Marian made for me : 
Shevvild lad at thowt on a lass, 

Sal baht his meyt ne'er be." 


All. reight eniff an Robin Hode 
Fan aht a hoss, an sent it, 

Tul t' king i Lunnon tahn bi Hugh 
A lang way, bud he went it. 

Hugh Cleveland war a Yorksher lad, 

An fairly up i hosses, 
Bud t' hoss he couldn't match for owt 

Al be his life he losses. 


An soa wi thowt o t' wiggin tree 
At Rivlin Joa did freeten, 

He corned back hooam tul Robin Hood, 
Hissen o t' tael to leeten. 


" Yer ken I could dee wi a boss 

Owt amaist when at yam, 
Bud t' lahtlest cauf at heeam in t' roke's 

Mair canny an I am. 

" I coom to Lunnon iv a deea 

At fun t' king lahk yan wud, 
For wad ye think 't a boss wur theer 

Whilk match'd his, Robin Hood ! 

" I wur sair ho't an whemml'd ower, 

Bud said I wur nae gannan 
Afore mah boss to rin the'd seed, 

Gin t' king wad race t' new fan an. 

" T' tweea bosses wur then browt oot; 

I ommost had to bluther: 
Bud for t' brown raitch ya couldn't ken 

The t'ane boss fra the t'other. 

" Yit nae wor match'd t' lile stars o t' raitch, 

Yan wur a bit agee, 
An t' king he wur nae arf to ax 

What aim'd I for to dee. 

" ' A Yorksherman, I thowt,' saidst he, 

' Wor up to owt i bosses ; 
I thowt ya yabble an weel-kenned, 

An yan at heeaf nae losses.' 


" ' 'T is varry weel gin this boss match,' 

I said an forrard gang'd ; 
* But gin ya'll finnd some watter hot 

Ya s' seea ye hae been wrang'd.' 

" 'T wor kenspack as t' cock on t' kirk-broach 
Greean walnuts had made t' raitch ; 

An then afore I had wissen, 

T' brent king I'd aim'd to teych. 

" ' Ya'll be at yam belive, baud man,' 

Saidst he as t' raitch coom'd oot; 
' Seea toon agean an gan to tell 

Thah maaster this aboot. 

"'Noohine!' I seea; ' thoo is t' gan, 

Thae'v putten a bam on me ; 
Bud keep thah routed hoss I sal 

Deean't baffle, it raitch's agee.' 

" 'Anon!' I said, 'ya'll keep mah hoss, 

Anthers at it hae routed. 
Mah maaster weant believe mah tale ; 

I s' hing when I've been clouted ! 

" * Ye're ower monny for me, king, 

I am bud nowt i leear; 
An thruff t' plewf o t' Daneby blackland 

I've been bud yeears tweea. 

" ' For Karlethwaite's anenst mah heeaf: 

Bud t' babbish backen t' deeas, 
Yit wad I wur i t' marrish yam 

Afore t' heeaf bally bleeaze ! 


" ' King, they's to lait at liv'd i t' hoos: 

I offens gaed an steead 
Ower bi wheer t' aud fowk last ligg'd, 

Wivoot owt on mah heead. 

" ' T' aud lass sha wur nae brashy, king, 

Bud deed o yeears, alack! 
An t' father wur a skeely man ; 

To tell ya is nae frack. 

" ' To threp lees sichan agate, king, 

I wad nae dee for owt; 
I've geean a weea i mah tale: 

Men weel as hosses rout. 

" ' I mun gan yam agean noo 

Gin mine's nae t' hoss ye've wanted ; 

Seea I s' gan heeam for t' skelp or t' tree, 
An I am reight belanter'd. 

" ' A bonny deed it is an seear, 

I hae nae beggar staff, 
Nor poke to ax almisse or owt 

Hoo can ya shame to laugh ! 

" ' It is a far an deeafly heeam; 

I'm deean gin Robin Hood 
Sud coom oop on a brent moor sahd, 

An mak me amaist wud.' 

' ' ' Non ? Robin Hode's a man I'll hae,' 
Iv a gert router saidst he; 

' 'T wad be sair ill to let t' puir hoss 
Sike an oot an ooter see. 


" ' He has I heear bud herrin roans 

When he's at Whitby Abbay, 
All manders else i t' grean-wood shade, 

An wodn't ho't a babby. 

" ' Bud anthers ye s' seea Robin Hood, 
Seea Yorksher allus blesses, 

An yit for all it accres wide 
It hae nae drith wi hosses. 

" ' Robin's ower mickle a feeal 
Gan tell him seea for me. 

Noo hine! owt else I weant hear; 
Thoo is t' gan or dee!' ' ; 


" A bonnie tael tha's browt us, lad," 

Said Robin, lewkin fahf 1 ; 
" This Lunnon king we s' e ta teych 

At Yorksher fowk can tahl ! 

" 'T is seur t' king will allus wesh 
A hoss sin tha hes teld him ; 

Bud I mun see this hoss missen, 
An finnd fro wheer the seld him. 

" Dick Skidby, get thi goan to Hull; 

Yar fowk mak oss for booat, 
To sael tul Lunnon tahn full soin, 

An up Thames watter flooat." 



It is a reight an merrie tael 
Hah Robin Hood an Dick, 

Tul Lunnon tahn boath come one day, 
An hod o t' king" hoss click. 

Bud i his kale Dick made it aht 
Tuv all t' bowld men an free, 

At ligg'd bi Robin Hode o neets, 
Aneyth wer greanwood tree. 

Dick speyks a bit like Cleveland lad, 

Yit noan soa varry like, 
For t' fowk bi Hull an rahnd abaht, 

Ther oan way hev ye'll pike. 


" To gan wiv Robin I was bug, 

An was weel up ti gam ; 
Nut akin all day lang aboot 

I fan missen i yam. 

" It stackers ma to think o rooad, 

In slack an oot ageean 
Wiv blath'ry muck, it was a tew: 

I mowt a smoot ha teean. 

" I thowt o skelp an bam I'd had 

When lahtle lad at heeam, 
An hazin, as oor beald rig- tree 

Come up as lahke i dreeam. 


" Hoss frush'd ti byre an chavell'd sthreea; 

Some hand breed off I went 
Ti deear, wheer bunch'd aboot I'd been 

When callit aunt was bent. 

" I could see ti back end o spot 

As inti hoose I glooar'd, 
An wheer I'd had mi waxin pains 

Yan lewk meead oot for rooad. 

" Ther was a smell o haver cakes 

Mi aunt had fire-fang'd, 
An in I went as sha come up, 

Awd lass I nivver wrang'd. 

" ' Thoo bug wretch, oot o hoose thoo gans !' 

Said awd aunt, tho rain sile; 
I gooav'd like daft watty wad, 

To late a heeam smile. 

" Seea oot I com an seean I fan 

Missen goff 'nin at tahd, 
Wiv rummlin weeam, thinkin o Rob, 

At Humber watter sahd. 

" It was a full booat tahm for ma 

Till Robin Hood com doon. 
Said I, ' I've awder'd vast sin I 

A baynie was i toon.' 

" ' Thoo's nut pock-arr'd, wiv een akest,' 

Laugh'd Hull lad i his weea; 
4 Thi blashy talk's for wakky heeads, 

Nut yan seea strunt, for seer.' 


" I said I went ti owmly hoose 

A neet as dark as pick, 
An fan a'nt's neeaves lewk'd as gif 

Sha was nooa mak for Dick. 

" ' I was varry feeath o gannin, 
An mud have ligg'd wi laugh ; 

Bud then awd aunt mowt have meead 
Ta feigh ma oot lahke caff.' 

" ' A'nt, hod thi clack, 1's gannin noo,' 

I said, seear as a bile, 
' To lopper milk thi lewk will deea ; 

Pig milk deeant want a sile ! ' 

" ' Tak skeeal an gan thoo an milk ky,' 

Spak sha ti lad at yat: 
In trewth I couldn't lig i hoose 

Wiv callit aunt lahke that.' 

" Aback-a-beyont is mah yam, 

Ower anenst floor mill; 
Astoop is mah awd callit aunt: 

Live lang I hoap sha will ! 

" I think I skail heeam sthreea aboot 
I'm far fra Lunnon toon; 

Na mare I'll tell, mi tale's kessen, 
Oor Robin's noo come doon." 


" Dick mud a been browt uppa milk, 
Aneyth t' hoam breead-fleeak : 

Is t' fond o loppards, tell us, lad ? 
Ta's fond o t' owd hen peeak ! 


" Bud hod thi din, I'm stall'd o t' tael 

I heeard thi oss to tell, 
Whol Little John beheend t' gert ooak, 

Prick'd ears as at hart bell. 

" Tha's getten fer as t' watter, lad; 

I s'tak up t' tael missen : 
B5 ship we sael'd tul Lunnon tahn, 

Taen bi yar watter men. 

" Full sooin t' king man we hed fun, 

An ast to see t' king boss ; 
Reight glad he war to gie us t' seet, 

For fear a friend he'd loss. 

" I mark'd reight weel it raitch an t' rest, 

Set on t' owd hossin clog; 
An then I said a boss we'd bring 

At grazin war i t' fog. 

" ' Noa mak ye'll bring,' spak he wi laugh, 

' Wor ye t' Owd Lad hissen, 
For t' raitch wi t' star is bad to finnd ; 

I ne'er seed t' like missen.' 

" Bud t' wick atefter, reight eniff, 

We corned wi boss to match, 
Soa varry like the war at t' man 

Gat riled, an gan to fratch. 

" ' Ye come fro Yorksher I can tell, 

An deeal noan fair wi bosses; 
Ye've browt a match, yit hah knooa I 

Bud soin it raitch it losses ? ' 


"Then straight bi t' throit I click'd him strang, 
An dahn on t' grahnd we fall'd ; 

Soa whol all t' stable fowk comed up 
Dick gat wheer t' hoss wor stall'd. 

" I made a mahlerk, reight an seur; 

Nine men a-top mi come. 
' I sal drop eych man-jack on ye,' 

I shriked, ' I sal bi gum !' 

" ' Neea, neea,' said Dick a-comin up, 

' Hoo can yu sheeam to feyt ; 
I's gannin heeam ti teeak hoss 

Till king can see it reight. ' 

" Soa boath on us gat off wi t' hoss, 

Whol scahl'd the one an all. 
' Way, t' king'll knooa t' raitch is false ! ' 

Wor t' king man weeazy dole. 

" 'T worn't lang afoor we'd come tul t' king, 

Ameng his bowmen lank; 
For monny merrie tourney bouts 

Yar Robin the'd to thank. 

" Wi bow and lance an quarter-staff, 

On hoss an i a tilt, 
The fan I wor a reight dab hand, 

An merrie blooid spilt. 

" Bud t' wimmin o theas Lunnon fowk 

Wor noan wer Yorksher fair; 
Thoa varry weel an noan amiss, 

The comed nowt i mah wayer. 


"Ther worn't a Yorksher lass reight throoa, 

Wi t' oppen-spokken rooad ; 
Ther worn't a Yorksher lass to speyk 

A Yorksher word I knooad. 

"A lass wi Marian bliew een, 

At hair smells like new hay ; 
Mi lass at bonnie hands oft elapse, 

Reight maidenly to pray. 

" Yit I hed wi mi, Dick, trieu lad, 

One aht o t' Ridins threi : 
' When t' king hoss we hev fairly shut,' 

Spak I, ' we sarn't be neigh ! ' 

" E clooas o listed gowden threead ; 

Wi kneyt an dame an frere, 
Come t' king wer new hoss for to see, 

An threp us aht an sleer. 

" Bud t' hoss we'd browt wor fun to match 

Soa weel wi t' other hoss, 
At tul his fowk he said ' E sooth, 

We nah wer gowd sal loss ! 

" ' Ho ! fotch us watter for to wesh 
Away t' raitch off t' new mahnt, 

An if it's reight an t' star's noa faerk, 
Be meean forseur we sarn't. 

" ' All wer kingdom's been lated weel 

Bi erle an barren triew, 
Monny bowld kneyt ligs deead to-day 

At did wer hoss beshriew.' 


" Yit dousin sowle ne'er wesh'd off t' raitch, 
For 't warn't a brun nut-steean ; 

Noan one brun hair ther war i t' star 
At hedn't grow'd, the leearn. 

" ' What will ye hev, goid men ? ' t' king ast 

'A castle heigh, an name? 
What blooid's yars, an wheer's yar hooam, 

An is yar life baht shame ? ' 

" Dick teld his tael, an then said I, 
' I'm Yorksher, goid Sir King ! 

An noan a drop o better blooid 
E'er weet a grey gois wing ! 

" ' I'm Yorksher, 'tis a deeal to say, 

An bowld am I to tell it ; 
Bud some are nowt an some are gert, 

Soa prahd am I to bell it. 

" ' Mi hooam's Yorksher, it accres brooad 
Hod mooast mi kinred booans ; 

Noa wrang I do bud sal to-morn 
Be reckon'd wi t' bye-gooans. 

" ' Yit if a knight ye wod I'd be, 

Wi lands all for mi ooan, 
Gi tul ma then wheer Robin Hode 

Is king i t' grean-wode looan.' 

" ' Ye are a wakky theeas to say 

An soa to lois goid land,' 
Spak t' king, bud reight an glad at heart ; 

' Noan flays ye Robin band ? ' 


" ' A pig-gin temm'd full o cleeat wine,' 

Said I, * Will allus mak, 
A friend o Robin Hood the say, 

If owt's i t' wimmin clack.' 


" ' Wimmin fare weel wi t' worsist man ; 

Bud g-oa i quick-sticks, goa ! 
Sud t' speyks I'm teld be reight ye'll finnd 

Yar Robin soin ye'll knooa. 

" ' On t' wishin kneyl ; nah rise, Sir Kneyt, 

Thi name Sir Robin Hode ; 
Other Robin I s' noan hev rooam 

E Yorksher dael or wode.' 

" ' 'Tis hard an sharp, an I mun goa,' 
Spak I, ' soa Dick's mi 'squire ; 

We s' hooam it like triew Yorkshermen, 
An intul t' eytin, Sire ! 

" ' Send wi us gateards, goid Sir King, 

A trusty man an triew.' 
' Sir Robin, soa sal 't be ; nah goa 

Tul Yorksher moorlands bliew.' " 


" For monny miles we northards rade, 
Dick wi mi, an t' king man, 

As lanky en as e'er I seed, 
Likelier ne'er I fan. 


" ' Ye tell yar king I'm Robin Hood,' 

Spak I to send back t' man ; 
1 An say 'tis allus soft to sleer 

At Yorksher if ye can. 

" ' Tell t' king at t' boss the wesh'd worn't ahrs, 

'Twor his oan hoss we'd swapp'd ; 
Bud we will sup tul t' reight goid health 

t' king we fairly capp'd.' 


" 'Neea, nay, neea, nay, I'm John Langstroth,' 

Brast aht t' king man straight-way; 
' Like awther thee or eeather thoo 

1 speyk, an soa sal stay. 

" ' Wi ye goid Robin Hode I'm bahn, 

An thoo Dick sal I gang ; 
Forseur I come fra th' Cravan hills, 

A Yorksher gallostang. 

*' ' An owd said say an a trew yan, 

Sal I it sayne to-day ? 
Scot will allus help a brother, 

An Yorksherman him nay.' 


*' ' Noa, noa ! ' spak I, ' thooa sich be trieu, 

For Yorkshermen are hard ; 
We hev ronk hate o yarmy fowk, 

An nivver will em mard. 

" ' Bud ne'er yit, lad, sal it be telt 

At Yorksherman said nay, 
Tul kinred fowk at, reight an fair, 

Hed corned to ass ther way.' 



" ' Dirl ma mi heart-strings, an thoo wol, 

Thoo's t' beatem of yower king" ; 
A Craivan shippon be for me, 

Mi whishin be Yorksher ling ! 

" ' Thoo'lt nut mak gam ov ma, Robin : 

We'll off tiv faar tagither ; 
Thof I wor spaan'd i Malgum-dael 

An kirsen'd theer, gang thither ! 

" ' I laked theer oft at chicken-chow 

When mother wor sindin t' kit ; 
Whol th' clooathes wor blaanin i t' black-frost 

At all t' blake leeaves hed bit. 

" ' Lile lad I wor wi shive o breod, 

An t' piggan full ov ream ; 
I've oft been laten i th' mista 

Wi th' reed bud goid owd deam. 

" ' To beb ov th' kirn-milk I wor loath ; 

I'd sowle i th' reeam reight, 
An had I nobbud thar-cake sweet 

Kirk-maister I wad feyt. 

" 'Ta reeak up tul th' owd rekkan crook, 

I am a-rove to-day: 
I worsel up an roy it reight, 

When skime I Lunnon way. 

" ' White-slatt birks oumer t' gait bi t' hoam, 

A stower-length fra t' rig; 
Red ran-tree berries breet will be 

Bi wheer we all sal Iig.' 



" ' Then John Langstroth come ye wi us, 

I am Sir Robin Hode; 
Fat Yorksher hart to-mooan neet 

We'll rooast i t' greean-wode. 

" ' Yar Malham Moor wor t' fastness hooam 

O Malgo, Britain's king, 
O Northweg'a, Hibern'a, king, 

An lands away, the sing. 

" 'Tis lang agooa, an fowk ma threp 
Yar Craigvan noan hed king, 

Bud bless yi lad, oft triew owd taels 
Fare far on merry wing ! 

" ' Ulf Malghum, Meldred, an Godid, 

Wor all o laerter days ; 
T' Prior o Fountaynes hes all ther names 

In t' wreetin roll he maes. 

" 'Ther wor Uctred, Ranulph, Roschil, 

Torsin, John, an Adam, 
Sigeria, Ingold, Gamel, 

Eych one a De Malgham!' 

" An soa mi merrie Yorkshermen, 

At come fro t' Ridins threi, 
We've telt t' tael in York's speyches five, 

Aneyth wer grean-wood trei." 


" A reight an merrie do, mi sons," 

Then spak up Freer Tuck ; 
"-God-bless'd be ivvry Yorksherman, 

An smittl'd wi goid luck!" 


LASSES are mich like flahs: the're happen noan t' same as 
others, bud ivvry one on 'em is a wonder o sweetness an 
fairness i 'er oan way. Ella Wain wor a rare slip of a lass, 
fresh as a spring daisy after a sunshine shah, sweet as t' 
smell o wet violets, fair as aigh blosm i owd May; an though 
ther's monny a lass i t' North Country at is worth aboon a 
thowt, yit Ella i mah mind come afore onny on em. 

Ella wor one at nivver knooad owt bud sunshine. When 
sha wor nobbut a bahn 'er father an mother deed an left 'er 
to be browt up bi an owd maid aunt, at loved 'er as mich as 
a soft cushy cah loves it mutty-cauf ; an the'd noan forgetten 
to let 'er hev a goid bit o brass to be goin on wi, nawther. 

At Wain lass nest wor feather'd ivvrybody knooad, bud 
ther's noa sayin if t' lass did. Fowk wod hev it sha noan 
bother'd to ass 'ersen, an at sha taed t' luck o life like sha 
did t' smell of on a rooase, an reckoned it at nowt bud it 
sniff worth. Fooils em ! as if we all on us moant sup mistal 
milk baht thinkin o sah cruds an loppards! An soa asteead 
on 'er gettin fahler as sha gor owder, sha gat all at med be 
lewked for wheer ther's nivver clahd nor nowt i t' way o neet 
love-dimples, health-blooim, ee sparkle an wicked laughin 
lips. Goi! bud hev ye ivver heeard summer? then ye mun 
a heeard Ella laugh. Ther's nowt bud summer i 'er heart, 
an sha laughs it aht agean. Bud crabbed fowk witter 
thersens at a lass can be flayd o nowt; an some on 'em said 
Ella wod soin eniff rooar. 

T' lass wor a lang while ower it : sha noan gav ower 
laughin, an t' fahl-faced uns, at lewked as if the nivver 
weshed thersens i owt bud hask watter, gat soa riled the 



said the wodn't speyk tul 'er. Yit whenivver the met 'er, 
t' lass smile smittled em, an the said to thersens at after all 
sha war a reight lass, chois hah. 

Of a June nooin Ella wor sitten aht i t' gardin on t' gert 
gers plat. Waivin clumps o white an pink leelacs wor 
cluthered thick beheend 'er, an i t' front on 'er wor t' orchard, 
white ower wi blosm. Tul one side wor a leeavy wood wi 
bliew-bell shades an t' hum o bees, an t' tinkle o hiddyin 
waiter lairkin amang t' rusty bracken o t' back-end, an t' 
fresh young grean growth at wor sprent ower wi brazent 
flahs o' flarin yolla an gloarin bliew wheer t' hawf-flayd 
white little wind flah hed gen t' leead o Spring tul i t' days 
when t' lundy March wor ravin wild at hevin trodden on t' 
train o Winter trosslin snooa gahn ; an of t' other side o 
Ella wor Will Ingle, t' rich lad at all t' sah-faced fowk war 
hooapin an sayin wod ne'er wed 'er noan 'im ! 

" It's nowt to ass," 'e wor sayin, " nobbud a kuss." 

"Then tha sudn't ass for 'a nobbud,' an tha sarn't hev 
one," answered t' lass, smotherin a fause peepin daisy neyth 
'er foit, 'er cheek as pink as t' blosm pinned at 'er throit. 

T' lad tugged at 'is wescot, an teld 'issen, wi ommost a 
sweer, at sha wodn't speyk soa tul 'is cousinn, Lister 
Eckroyd o t' Grange. 

"Ther's happen sum'dy else ye wodn't be soa stingy 
wi," 'e mummel'd. 

Sha laughed softly, an shiftin 'er little foit let t' daisy 
liff it 'ead ageean. " What if ther is ? " sha said. 

"Way, if ther is I sal be fun i t' tarn." 

" Why, sal ta bade theer allus after? " 

" Ne an I sarn't. The'll finnd me deead an drahnd." 

"Tha mun ma thi will first." 

"I s' do more nor that. I s' wreet it dahn who's to 
blame for it all." 

T' lass laughed agean, an sha kicked t' daisy 'ead off. 

" An whoa sal ta blame ? " 

"I s' blame thee, Ella." 


" It sahnds grant!" sha laughed. "Tell it ower agean, 

" Is ta glad to think the'll finnd ma deead an drahnd? " 

"What a soft thing to be assin ma! Tha med as weel 
ass ma if I want thi to live. Why, I want ivvry thing to 
live ! " 

"Tha says soa, but tha's as gooid as killed mi bi nah. 
I'd soiner tha'd kill ma reight aht like t' daisy tha's kicked 
yed off on nor hooin me as tha art." t 

T' lass cahr'd dahn an picked up t' 'ead, an then sha 
tossed it thro 'er wi a laugh. 

" Hah glib tha talks abaht mi as goid as killin thi! An 
all becoss I weant hear summat abaht a kuss. . . . Nah, 
soft gauvison, what's ta lewkin ower yonder for ? " 

"Why, ther's Lister Eckroyd, seur as owt ! Bud I'll 
tell thi, Ella, I'm nooan bahn to ma rahm for 'im!" 

" Yi can boath yi goa hee yarsens hooam. I doan't 
want botherin wi nawther on yi!" 

" Way, I sarn't goa till 'e goas." 

Bi nah Lister Eckroyd wor wi em. 'E'd ridden ower 
thro t' Grange, an 'is ridin scutch wor wi 'im yit. 

"Hah dew, Ella," says 'e, ne'er lewkin at Will. "I 
reckon Summer hes ower-reiked 'issen to sithi set aht like 
this ameng t' blosms an t' flahs. . . . Goi! bud i'n't sun 
hot to-day!" 

Then 'e nodded to Will as if 'e'd a weng'd summat at 
'is heead, said t' day war reyt grant, an gan a-payin t' dust 
off on 'is shooin wi 'is scutch. 

" It's reyt luck ye hev corned," said Ella; " I want some 
bliew-bells gerrin aht o t' wood. Ther wants to be a reyt 
lot soa as mother sister ma tell mi hah 'er mother mother 
gat t' sap aht on 'em to starken t' ruffs wi. ... I mun 
goa sei if t' kettle's hingin on t' rekken, an I mun hev a 
piggin tern-full o milk for t' bonnie kitlins i t' mistal laithe. 
Mother sister wor thrang kneydin t' breead, an I doan't 
knooa if sha's knodden yit. Shoo'd a reyt jorum o pots to 


wesh an all, for boath wer lasses hev gooan off a bit, bein 
t' tide ower wheer the come thro, an t' first tide i t' yeear." 

T' lads lewked gormless, an ne'er said nowt. 

" Way," spak up Ella ageean, " onnybody at thinks owt 
o me weeant want assin noa moor." 

" Hah monny bliew-bells does ta want?" ast Lister. 

"As monny as ye boath can hug; an I'll noan speyk tul 
awther on yi till ye've filled this binch wi em." 

Taain it i t' best way, t' lads went off to sam up t' bliew- 
bells, as the'd nit done sin the wor childer. An it warn't 
soa varry lang afoor the war fotchin a reyt armful on em 
back to wheer the'd left Ella. A woman wor stood bi t' 
binch, bud nawther o t' sackless lads thowt it wor Ella. 

" Bi gow ! Ella's goan an left us to ta t' fiahs tul 'er 
mother sister," said Ingle lad as the gat gainer ; bud Lister 
Eckroyd wor that wild 'e wodn't speyk. 

" Eeh, what a lot o bonnie bliew-bells !" said t' owd a'nt 
throwin up 'er arms. " Fotch em i t' hahse wi ye. Ella hes 
goan to gerr a drop o teah browt aht i t' gardin, an sha'll soin 
be back." 

" I reckon we med as weel mak up wer mind to do as 
we're teld," laughed Will Ingle. 

" Ahr, an we hed," put in Lister Eckroyd, sweetened a bit 
wi t' thowt on a cup o teah thro Ella'ands. 

Soa the hugged t' bliew-bells to t' hahse, an when the'd 
taen em i t' kitchin the both on em went rahnd bi t' big gardin 
to see hah t' growin stuff wor comin on. At last Lister 
Eckroyd went an stood agean Will Ingle : 

" Nah, lad," said 'e, " which on us is bahn to win Ella ?" 

" I am if sha'll hev ma," wor t' answer. 

"An I am if sha will ha me. Sha happen weant hev 
awther on us. Bud tha knooas thi father's mah earn an we're 
cousinns, soa gie ower lookin aigre an crabbed at me, for I 
sal win t' lass if I can, an tha mun an all. T' lass'll ass 
'ersen, an noa goid'll come on us fratchin." 

"Tha talks abaht mi lewkin sah, Lister. Ther's nobb'dy 


aigrer nor thee when tha likes. Bud sah or noa, I'm noan 
bahn to gie up t' thowt o Ella." 

"All reight, Will lad, thee stick thi to t' thowt, an I'll win 
t' lass." 

When the gat back agean to wheer the'd first left Ella the 
fan t' lass wi a binch the'd sprodden wi white linen on which 
wor spice-cairk an teah, noan watter-bewitched nawther, an 
fresh-mashed ; stiff creeam ommost clotted, dabs o butter reyt 
thro t' kirn ; some crisp grean stuff, an lots else besides. Bud 
more nor all, ther wor other lass wi Ella a friend at hed come 
to be wi 'er a while. An it wor Nancy Grean, a lass as hed 
been Lister Eckroyd sweetheart when 'e wor nobbut a lad. 
'E'd lost t' seet on 'er on a suddin for 'er father hed sent 'er to 
be browt up bi some kinfowk reight away. Bud for all that 
Lister hed ne'er oss'd to finnd 'er aht, the'd been soa young ; 
an then wi Ella comin 'is rooad 'e hed gen ower thinkin on 'er. 
Somehah, hahivver, when 'e set een on t' dainty Nancy, 
nawther t' thowt o Ella nor t' other on em could stop 'is 'eart 
thro leetenin like a lavrock 'eart i sunshine ; other minute it 
hed weightened like a packman load, for Will Ingle made 
straight tul Nancy : 

" Hah are ye, Nance?" 'e ast. " It's monny a year sin I 
seed ye, an bi gow ye noan unlike yer owd sen ! Hah's t' father 
an all on em ? " 

T' lass laughed an said summat ; an seur a smile worn't 
away thro hooam i 'er sunny blieu een ! 

Lister thrust 'issen forrard an made as if to speyk, bud 'e 
fan 'e wor hooarst. 

"Oh, an is it Lister Eckroyd," t' lass said, i an offhand 
way ; an then when Lister hed answered at it wor, sha taed 
'er een off on 'im an gan o talkin as sweet as owt tul Ingle lad, 
who seemed to hev tippled top ower tooa i love wi 'er. 

"Come rahnd an hev a drop o teah," said Ella. "Ye all 
hev whittle gairt. Reik to, an help yarsens." 

Then sha temm'd t' cups full an handed rahnd summat to 
eyt. Soin Ella 'ersen gan to think at 'er friend Nancy hed 


taen ower quick to Will, an sha worn't ower seur navvther if 
Will hedn't taen as soin to Nance. 

An soa it war at Ella at last gat riled an spreng up, 
leeadin Lister off to pull 'er some leelac blosms. 

"I want 'em to gie Nance for 'er to put i t' ovvd hall 
chamer to-neet. The'll smell nice when sha wakkens to- 
morn," sha said when they wor to thersens. 

" If ye want 'em for yarsen, Ella," said Lister, wi a face 
reight red, " I'll ger 'em. But noan a leaf sal I pull for 
Nancy Grean !" 

" Why, I allus thowtye'd bin lad an lass sweethearts when 
tha went tul t' grammar schoil on Schoil Hill." 

" Ahr, an we wor. Bud tha sees what woman love is, 
doesn't ta ! An this is t' first time we've seen one another 
sin 'er father sent 'er tuv 'is brother fowk. Lewk at 'er 
maggin it wi mi cousinn Will. Ne, I s' noan pull 'er t' 

" Happen Will thinks nowt on *er." 

"Nowt o Nance! nowt o Nance! Doan't thee blinnd 
thissen, Ella ! Ther i'n't a man livin at wod think nowt o 
Nance !" 

T' words went tuv Ella 'eart wi a stang, an sha ommost 

"Ye talk, Lister, as if ye thowt aboon a bit abaht 'er." 

" Ella, I can't help missen sin I've seed t' lass agean. I 
ommost wish I hedn't, an then happen tha'd a hed ma, Ella ; 
an sewerly then I sud a been reight. I'm noa tenger." 

"Bud tha maes a mistak, Lister; I sud noan a hed 

"Noa, nob'dy'll ha me, I reckon, whol ther's a glib- 
tongued gallo-stang like mi cousinn Will abaht. Tha'd a 
hed Will?" 

T' lass blushed like red aigh blosm. 

" A bonnie goa to nah, i'n't it ! Tha'rt flayd Will's i love 
wi Nance, an I'm flayd at Nance's i love wi Will !" 

" I ne'er said I wor flayd 'e wor i love wi Nance," put in 


Ella. "Let 'im hev 'er if 'e wants 'er ! An nah Lister 
Eckroyd leeave mi. I'm bahn bi missen I'll shut all on it ! 
Thee mak noa coil ! " 

Lister wor a bit freetened. 

" Tha moant be soft, Ella," 'e said. Bud sha hed goan 
ameng t' trees an war aht o sect. 

At after Lister went to wheer Will an Nancy war. 'E 
heeard 'em laughin ; bud 'e reckoned noan to mind, an 'e ast 
'em if the'd seen owt o Ella. 

"I'n't sa wi thi!" 

" Wi me ! Sha's goan off i t' wood bi 'ersen " 

Will Ingle spreng tul 'is feit, an 'is face wor white. 

" What's sha goan i t' wood for, Lister? " 

4 'Hah can I tell?" 

" Bud tha knooas wheer sha wor bahn ? " 

" What's ta want to knooa for ? " 

" Om bahn efter 'er that's if tha'll noan mind stoppin a 
bit wi Nance." 

" Doant thee fret thissen abaht me, Will lad: I s' be 
reight eniff, bi goi ! Ella went rahnd bi t' clump o leelacs an 
intul t' wood. Off tha choils it after 'er." 

" An ye weeant mind bein left wi mi cousinn, Nance?" 

" Happen nit," said t' lass, hawf-flayd. 

Soa off to finnd Ella Will heed 'im. 

T'other side o' t' leelacs 'e fan 'er, for sha'd corned back 

41 Wheer's ta been, Ella?" t' lad ast. 

"What's it to thee?" sha said, wi a frahn as flittin as a 
summer clahd. " Thee goa thi thi ways to Nance." 

" I'll leeave thi, lass, if tha likes, bud I s' nawther bother 
Nance Grean nor nob'dy lang at after." 

" Nay, it's as tha likes, noan as I like, Will." 

" An can I stop wi thi ? " 

" I ne'er said tha couldn't." 

" Tha knooas tha said tha wodn't gi me a kuss." 

" I said I wodn't gi thi ' a nobbud.' Tha said tha ast for 


nobbud a kuss, an it wor becoss I reckon at what's a nobbud 
is next to a nowt at I said tha sudn't hev one." 

"Ahr, I wor ma'in a mistak, lass, I sud noan a ast, I 
sud a taen ; an nah I'm bahn to ta." 

An tak 'is kusses 'e did. 

" Pull us some leelacs, nah, if tha's done wi thi soft, Will 
Ingle. I want em to sweeten t' hall-chamer to-neet for 
Nance, an when sa wakkens to-morn." 

" Oh, Nance thowts o what mi cousinn Lister '11 a telt 'er 
bi nah'll be sweet eniff for 'er* to-neet, an to-morn neet an all." 

41 What will 'e hev teld 'er, Will ? " 

"Nowt mich, nobbud when t' spurrins are bahn to be 
ast. It's nobbud a nobbud tha sees, an as I'm noan bahn 
to ass thi ageean abaht a nobbud, I sal let ahrs be put up an 
all. We all fower on us med as weel be wed together." 

An seur eniff the all on em war. 


WER Whisson-Monda, wer Yorksher Whisson-Monda, 

Wi t' smell o aigh i t' air ; 

When t' feylds are breet wi*t' butter cups, 

An white wi t' yarrow fair ; 

When t' dith'rin gers goas mates wi t' bent, 

An t' sweet bliew-bells are aht ; 

When t' ollin leaves noa prickles hev, 

An t' greanist are abaht. 

Cuckow meyt an mooin-pennies, 

An cloaver white an red, 

Wi t' bonnie aigh an esh i blooim, 

Mak Whitsun, be it said ! 

Wer Whisson-Monda, wer Yorksher Whisson-Monda, 

Wi t' lavrock singin heigh, 

An t' cuckow callin looan i t' wood, 

As mellow as could bei ; 

When t' lasses donn'd i t' Whisson best, 

Wi spiffin hat or hood, 

Goa rahnd wi t' lads o t' Sunda schooil, 

As Yorksher lasses sud : 

The sing tul t' owd an t' badly fowk, 

An tul t' weel off an all, 

The sing tul some the love an knooa, 

An then bi t' Stooan Hall. 

Wer Whisson-Monda, wer Yorksher Whisson-Monda ! 

This varry day 't is here : 

I'm stood i t' Stoan Hall grahnd, wi t' schoils 

At come tul 't year bi year. 

129 9 


A little lass gav me a hymn 

I've toathrie beside 

An sooa, as ther's rahm at back, 

I s' wreet o Whitsuntide. 

Ther's Bradla yonder, ninety three ; 

He talks o cahs an crops, 

An says, baht tremel on his lip, 

Hah quick eych Whitsun hops. 

Wer Whisson-Monda, wer Yorksher Whisson-Monda ! 

Owd Bradla says he's bin 

Wi t' schoils for eighty seven year, 

An tells ye wi a grin. 

Ther's t' Independents an t' Free Church, 

An t' Baptists follow on 

At after, wi t' Saint Luke bull heigh, 

Corned t' Church lot, one bi one. 

I sing wi all at are on t' feyld : 

The kale wi kindly ee ; 

It is soa hot to sing ye sweeal, 

Ther's noan a shade to see. 

Wer Whisson-Monda, wer Yorksher Whisson-Monda, 

When t' singin is all ower'd, 

An t' gams, an t' sup o teah an t' bun, 

Come on, an t' sun hes lower'd ! 

When t' lasses pike aht who the'll hev 

To dreeam on t' yeear through, 

An t' lads are fallin aht an mad 

At nob'dy hev to woo ! 

A chillin wind steyls ower t' gers, 

An t' corncrakes sadly scrairk ; 

A blieu mist grows thro aht o t' daels, 

An few o t' childer lairk ! 


Wer Whisson-Monda, wer Yorksher Whisson-Monda, 

When leets brek aht afar, 

An t' neet first star, wi sorry ee, 

Sees t' day is gerrin war ! 

Then wan is t' cheek o t' sweetheart lass, 

An loups her blooid wild, 

For sooin will sha hev to leeave 

A lad wi kuss, or riled. 

It's nowt at all, tul t' young yi say, 

To love a lad or lass ; 

Bud ass yarsen : ye noan forget 

Yar Whitsun or Kersmas ? 

Wer Whisson-Monda, wer Yorkshire Whisson-Monda ! 

An nah is t' har reyt laert; 

It's cowd, an lewkin grim an black, 

T' heigh moors like hill gods waert. 

The weight mi heart theas watchin moors, 

Soa dark agean t' blain sky: 

" One Whitsun's nowt tul us," the say, 

' ' At ages see goa by ! " 

O wheer sal time noa langer chill, 

Nor breet een dim wi tears ? 

'T is wheer abides triew, steadfast love 

Love lives aht deeath an years ! 


HAH monny tahns i t' North Countree 

An hamlets, lait it thorough, 
Reight worthy are to be afoor 

Wer Yorksher owd Aldborough ? 

When t' Angles corned the called it owd, 

Or " Aldburgh," i ther way, 
An, reight an all, for owd it war 

Tul t' Romans i ther day. 

As ' Iseur' 't war t' Druid hoam: 

Soa delve whol hoil or cleft 
Will summat gie thro t' Druid days, 

An noan a skerick's left ! 

This tahn hed t' Brigantes lang ere 

Rome limed wi t' Ure silt, 
An lang afoor at Roman hands 

Wer Eboracum built. 

'T is hawf a mile fro Aldborough, 

Tards t' dippin sun i t' west, 
At Boroughbrig on t' Gert North Rooad 

Gi's tuv a wand'rer rest. 

Bud Boroughbrig for baitin hoss 

An giein sup to man, 
Wor weel an knooad days aht o mind, 

Sin baitin days the gan. 24 



Soa Boroughbrig one Palm Sunda 

War thrang wi feytin men ; 
In t' yeear thirteen twenty two, 

If ye it wod a gen. 

An Boroughbrig noan donn'd itsen 

E murnin weeds to see 
Sich gallus knights, an bowmen bowld, 

Come tul this counterie. 

For 't war bud fewer yeears goan 

At Douglas through it rade, 
An wi his rampin reavin Scots 

O t' tahn a bunfire made. 

This Palm Sunda ther war a hooast 

O knights an bowmen trew, 
Wi barons come thro ivvry shire, 

An Welchmen noan a few. 

The come an come tul Borrobrig, 

An t' wimmin fowk the say, 
" O Thomas, Earl o Lancastre, 

Ye've fun yar sorry day !" 

" O mind ye weel o Bannockburn, 

An doant pote an gope, 
Or happen the'll ye click an hod; 

Then ye'll noa langer yope. " 

Sir Humfrede de Bohun wor theer, 

An sadly did he rew, 
For weel he minded at Bruce fell'd 

A De Bohun o thew. 5 2 


An Sir Humfrede Bohun knooad 

At clamrn'd the war an pade: 
Tul Borrobrig thro Pontefract 

The northards quick hed made. 

Height cotter'd wor Earl Lancastre 

Wi hevin corned up fast; 
Soa t' barons triew him cluther rahnd 

To feyt tul t' varry last. 

Then Sir Andrew de Harkela, 

A warden o Carlisle, 
Wi Sir Simon Ward, rade up sharp, 

As the'd corned mile an mile. 

The darted up wi dodder war, 

An sweeatin like a brok, 
Bud bowld the ast Earl Lancastre 

Wheer fan he here his jock. 

"O shameful speych," said t' barons triew, 

" For ye, De Harkela, 
At hed to thank Earl Lancastre 

For makkin ye a Sir." 

Bud Earl de Lancastre spak then, 

An said, " If ye will feyt 
Agean t' De Spencer fowk for me, 

A shire I'll gie ye, streight !" 


"For five and fifty shires, Earl, 

I'd nivver feyt for ye; 
Wer Edward is king o wer land 

Whativver ye wod gie." 80 



" Noa mense nor feelin ye can hev 

To gab like this tul me !" 
Said Earl de Lancastre, reight flayd, 

An white as he could be. 

" Sich false knights end i sorry plight, 

As triewly ye sal see, 
If sooin ye wean't shift abaht 

An come an feyt for me." 

Then Harcla bowmen draw'd soa strang, 

Eych bow wor like a harp 
A-waitin for it oan bard hand, 

To pluck or damper sharp. 

Bud noa bard harp ther war to twang 

An dirl tul onny lay : 
Thep wing'd a blinndin flock o shafts 

Earl Lancastre to slay ! 

As thoa the whirr'd straight back agean, 

Other flock reight as black, 
Come leetin on tul Harcla men 

Like shippies on a thack. 

Sir Humfrede de Bohun i mail 

Wor ridin ower t' brig, 
An soa some Welchman brod thro neyth 

Browt baron tuv his rig. 

Soa deed a friend o Lancestre 

Weel knooad for feytin fair ; 
Soa war he spared to see t' sad end 

At war Lancestre share. 108 


Sir Roger Clyfford heead wor hurt, 
Sir Roger Bernefeld kill'd, 

Sir William Sulley fell an all, 
An Lancastre wor mill'd. 

O t' barrens triew to Lancestre 

The taed Sir John Mountbray, 
Sir Roger Clyfford wounded sore, 

An others on this day. 

Sir William Tuchet, he war taen, 

An soa, to gie one mooar, 
Sir William, de Fitzwilliam height, 

An others ye mun knooa. 

Tul t' chapel gat Earl Lancastre, 

An foor the hally rood 
He fleng hissen an cahrd i freet, 

As flayd as fahl at's shood. 

" O gooid Lord I gi missen 

Tul Thee to hod till t' last ; 
Thi ooan cade bahn, o med I be !" 

He said as teears brast. 

Bud up corned Harkla like a sleuth, 

An Lancestre war teed : 
" Noa nifflin nafflan for to-day, 

Earl Lancestre we s'heed. 

" Noa gammin i a kirk sal help 

Nesh chap at is soa flayd," 
Said Andrew Harcla wi a sleer, 

" On him at knight ye made ! 136 


" Tha mun a all thi mail taen off, 

An donn'd noan like a ' Sir,' 
Enah as Lancestre ' mi man,' 

Tha'll dar bud say mi ' yeh.'" 

An soa the deng at Lancastre, 

An soa the donn'd him up, 
Wi t' varry gahn fro t' self-same man 

At he'd gen meyt an sup. 

Bi waiter war he sent to York, 

Nit ferrist way ye'll finnd ; 
An gateards wi him rowed a crew 

As fer as the hed wind. 

As nah Earl Lancastre yit hoap'd 

At York sum thowt to get, 
Bud war nor ivver his heart-wark : 

York fowk on tuv him set. 

He hooin'd war an slaked wi muck ; 

The rived his ivvry clooa, 
An wod a bray'd him once ageean, 

Till t' Earl could thoil noa moor. 

King" Edward tidins gat o t' strife 

Wi Lancestre his earn ; 
Wi t' Spencer fowk tul Pontefract, 

He come wi een agleeam. 

Tul Pontefract thro York wor taen 

Earl Lancastre to see 
King Edward an t' De Spencer fowk, 

An on his trial be. 164 


A tahr he'd built bi t' abbay theer, 

Wor hostel for a bit, 
To hod him till he tried i t' hall 

Hed bin bi wile an wit. 

Ther war owd Sir Hugh de Spencer, 

Sir Aimer Count Pembroke ; 
Sir Edmunde Count o Kent, as weel, 

At set to do all t' talk. 

Sir Robert Malmethor an all 

I moant forget to name ; 
An sooin hed the said ther say : 

Hah could the fair forshame ! 

On tuv a lat-ribb'd, spavin'd jade, 

The Lancastre mak fast. 
" O sal a body dee baht word ?" 

He ast em fair aghast. 

One Gascoyne taed em then away, 

Baht bridle strop or owt, 
An for t' Earl of Lancestre heead 

A brokken hat he browt. 

Ageean fowk gat muck to chuck, 

An made to lammas t' Earl ; 
Ageean bood an spit an girn'd 

A crahd wi arms a-whirl. 

A gooid freer wor fun all through 

At Earl Lancestre side, 
For soa he med hev a say 

Wi t' Earl at after t' ride. 192 


A-top a hill aht-side o t' tahn, 

Earl kneyl'd him lewkin Eeast, 
Till one Hughin de Muston said 

He wodn't hev him reeast. 

An northards then he setten war, 

As t' rooad Scotland wends, 
An Earl Lancastre bitter fooas 

Hed telt Scots war his friends. 

A Lunnon chap how'd off his heead, 

An gooid Lancastre, 
Wi thowts o t' Eeast an een tul t' North, 

Baht sprottle deed, or stir. 

An t' day at after Pontefract 

Seed fell'd like shammel beeasts, 
Young Lord Fitzwilliam, Lord Cheney, 

A-liggin on ther breeasts. 

Lord William Touchet, an as weel, 

De Bradburne, height Henrie, 
Lord Warren, Lisle, and Lord Mandate, 

Height Thomas, come to dee. 

Lords Clifford, Mowbray an Deynville, 

At York all lois'd ther heeads : 
Reyt weel wer feyt o Borrowbrig 

Says knightly blooid bleeads. 

An soa yar singer will ye ass, 

To mind at ready shaft 
Thro chink hoil i yar coit o mail, 

Sal win ageean yar craft ! 220 



KIRKSTALL ABBEY, near Leeds, built in 1147-53, was founded in 
the circumstances I give in this ballad. Seleth, the anchorite, 
owes much to legendary history. We are told that Alexander 
came and included Seleth in his brotherhood. Beyond this I 
have kept the ballad so close to facts that historical notes are 
here unnecessary. These facts I have gleaned carefully from all 
the ascertainable authorities to give the utmost historic value and 
permanence to this ballad, which is the more important as I 
have written it in the self-same dialect or language that has been 
spoken outside and in its walls virtually from its very foundation 
till to-day. 

39. At son "Whose son." No sibilant possessive used. 

43. I s'oss. " I shall put myself in earnest form for setting 
off," pronounced Oss oss. 

6 1. Our Lady's mantel. Sibilant possessives are not used. 
See note on 39, and also " Of Lauerd blissing " in Northumbrian 
dialect, 1250, in my Introduction. 

118. The future of the projected abbey he sees as in a mirror, 
even to the day of its dismantling. 

128. ... waste an fowt. A cellar smelling mouldy is called 
fowty. Yorkshire ow. 

176. Hod soin at "Believe soon that." Soin is here a 
monosyllable, though like very many words may be also dis- 
syllabic. The iambics inform my reader, for I do not always 
double the vowel, and soin and sooin may severally be slurred 
into one syllable or given two. 

177. I s'leeaver hod "I would be more inclined to believe." 
Say, osst leerverodd. 

218. Say, "It niks ertt stooern wark ee er wall." 

225. "In honore gloriosae virginis et Matris Dei Mariae," 

such was the dedication. It was given to the monks of the 

Cistercian Order. 



227. Henri de Laci, Baron of Pontefract, the founder, grand- 
son of Hildibert or Ilbert de Laci, was buried here, as also were 
other Lacies. 

230. In the monk's narrative concerning Seleth, the vision of 
Mary tells him to go to Kirkstall, but facts show the name of 
Headingleeia was earlier, " Kirkstall " resulting from the erection 
of the abbey. 

254. Thro "on account of." A grange was a monastic farm 
with its houses, etc. 

273. Short form of "We sal a ta hev" : "We must endeavour 
to strive after having." Say, wiss etterev. 

306. . . . betaking "beat; overcame." The circumstances, 
it has been suggested, were not quite what pious history loves to 
record of certain church conquests of that day. Hence "ye 
moant ass." We can only hope the end justified the means. 

310-12. Walker Bardsa: ker and sa rhyme. Hence Pudsa 
is Pudser, Thackla Thackler, for Pudsey and Thackley ; Coverla 
for Calverley, and so on. 

349. The Tempests founded Bolton Abbey. 

372. . . . yond rig. Immediately after the dissolution the 
roof was removed and the work of destruction begun. The abbey 
was surrendered to the Crown, November 22nd, 1540, in the 
thirty-first year of the reign of Henry VIII. An entry in the 
book of the Churchwardens at Leeds, in 1583, notifies the paying 
of sixpence a day to labourers for removing materials from 
"Christall Abbaye" for building purposes. The dormitory fell 
in the winter of 1746, and two sides of the tower and a part of 
the third came crashing down on January 27th, 1779. 

373, . . noa dratin. Said an old Windhill Methodist friend 
to me recently, speaking of a place of worship on the hill top 
now not Methodist: "I went, an it war cowd [spiritually]! I war 
frozzen to deeath ommost, an eeh ! sich dratin hymns ! The war 
all on em deead ! " 

401. I s'ass ye I shall beg of you. Say, Osst ass yi. 

403. See note on line 372. 

405. Thanks to the late Colonel North, the Abbey came into 
the hands of the Leeds Corporation, and they have commend- 
ably, and with great respect for its associations, made well-advised 
renovations, preserving it for the public. The Abbey is now no 
longer at the mercy of wind and weather, but will be henceforth 
an instructive and appealing historic resort of interest, guarded by 
a vigorous municipality which recognizes it possesses one of the 
richest monuments of Yorkshire history. 

NOTES 143 

409. The nunnery of Esholt, or Essheholt, was founded by 
Simon de Ward in the middle of the twelfth century and dedicated 
to God, Saint Mary, and Saint Leonard. It was suppressed in 


410. Eckershill, or Eckersill, a pronunciation I hear frequently 
for Eccleshill among the natives. There is no record of an early 
church here, our parish church being quite modern. Of course, 
though north of Bradford, it anciently belonged Dewsbury Church, 
but it may be that the Ecclesia of the scribes was a corruption. 
Eagleshill has been suggested as an etymology, perhaps because 
we have a Ravenscliffe at hand. Certain it is that old local 
documents use the Ecclesia form Eccleshill. In this volume, 
however, I record what I myself hear spoken, and I have given 
both forms : see line 2 in ballad " Coverla." So it is I write 
Esseheld, or Esheld, for Esholt. 

413. The Priory of Cluniac nuns at Arthington, near Leeds, 
founded in the twelfth century by the Peers de Ardyngton, 
flourished till the Dissolution. 

418. We shall declare. Say, Wiss tell it aht tull. Tul rhymes 
with full. 


... a ghast goit for t' sea a very demon for the sea (Saxon 
gast, a spirit). " He's a ghast un " means " He is a demon," but 
this only in the sense as shown in the " Huntin Song" I have 

I hear only "ak'orn" about Bradford, but as a Stannington 
boy I knew it only as "ackren." 

'E'n SAID IT. 

Garth dowter Sibilant possessive not used. See Notes on 
"Kirkstall Abbay," 39, 61. 

Bud sha decked. A horse refusing a fence is said to deck. 
This verb means also to nibble, to pick, to object, and is not 
related to the verb " deck " mentioned in our dictionaries. An 
animal refusing a part of its food is said to be " deckish." The 
word "mardy," spoilt, pampered, is used in the same sense of 
people. This word "deck " earned me my first silver in literature. 
I wrote upon it a very learned-looking little article for The 
Sheffield Independent in my early teens, some time before that 
journal published serially Kalderworth, my first novel. To this day 
I have not seen the word in any dictionary or dialect glossary. 



I wrote the whole of this ballad with an oak pen I cut from a 
green oak-tree in Calverley Woods specially to write it. Windhill, 
whose name, thanks to Professor Joseph Wright's Grammar of 
the Windhill Dialect, scholars now give to the Yorkshire dialect 
of the Bradford district, is in the parish of Calverley, where of 
course this dialect is quite at home. This tragedy provided the 
subject matter for the much-discussed play printed in 1608 

"A Booke, The Yorkshire Tragedy, written by Wylliam 

I will not enter into disputation as to the authorship of that play, 
but whosoever the writer he had worked from the details found 
in an ill-informed author's pamphlet: 

" Maister Caverley's unnatural and bloudie Murther com- 
mitted uppon his Wife, and practised upon his 

It is said that, maddened by drink and gaming, Walter Calverley 
of Calverley, in the West Riding of Yorkshire, the head of an 
ancient house originally called Scott, in a fit of jealousy, murdered 
his sons William and Walter, attempted to kill his wife, and rode 
off with like intent to his other son, Henry, out at nurse. His 
horse stumbled, tradition tells us, and Calverley being captured, 
was examined by Sir John Saville and Sir Tho. Blande. It is of 
interest to note that the publisher of the play had printed in 1605 
a ballad upon the tragedy entitled: "A ballad of lamentable 
Murther done in Yorkshire by a Gent upon two of his owne 
Children, sore wounding his Wyfe and Nurse." 

The examination of Walter Calverley, Esq., taken before "two 
of his Majesties Justices of the Peace" on April 24, 1605, gives 
insight into the lamentable condition of the unhappy man's mind 
even the day after the tragedy, and from the facts herein revealed 
I have written this ballad. The cause of the crime is ascribed in 
the Calverley family pedigree to Walter Calverley's being delirious 
with fever. It is clear he recovered a more normal mental state, 
for something over four months later he refused to plead, standing 
mute upon his arraignment. By refusing to plead he saved 
forfeiture of his chattels at the cost of a slow, agonizing death, 
and endured the peine forte et dure. But the manors of Calverley 
and Pudsey, with "the appurtenances in Calverley, Eccleshill, 

NOTES 145 

Farsley, Woodhall, and Pudsey," being in strict settlement, could 
not have been affected by a forfeiture. 

6. ... trei . . , Coverley . . . See note 72, on "Battle o 

27. I want . . . the want "I ought . . . they ought." 

34. Woodhall Hills I look on from my bedroom. It is quite 
at hand, and about on a level with or perhaps lower than Scarr 
Hill. It is said Ingleborough Hill can be seen from there on 
favourable days, looking north-west. The Aire valley opens wide 
before it. This is our favourite short stroll. Standing here and 
glancing round the magnificent expanse of blue moorland hills 
and green dales, and breathing deeply of the keen air, one 
exclaims involuntarily, "My Yorkshire!" Some quaint old stone 
houses back from the road hide among trees a little away, near 
a small school-room by the roadside built in 1837. 

47. A local superstition still vaguely believed is that t' barguest, 
or t' guy-trash, a supernatural dog, appears to one of a family whom 
disaster is to overtake. Hence every true Yorkshireman feels an 
eerie sensation on being passed on a dark and lonely road by a 
great silent hound, and often makes inquiries likely to throw light 
on the dog's being no ill-boding, shadowy sleuth. 

128. E am (say, ee am) "I am." The pronunciation of I 
like ee in eel, is often used in plaintive and whimsical moods. 
Only this year the character I mention in " Wer Yorksher Whisson 
Ivfonda," which I wrote the year before, said to me, whimsically 
smiling: "E walked wi t' childer eighty-eight year agoa," speak- 
ing of himself. 

History records that members of the Calverleys fought in 
France, etc. Some of the women were nuns at the adjacent 
Esholt nunnery. See note on Essheld, " Kirkstall Abbay." 

The Rev. John Malham., Corrector of the Press, mentioned 
in the Dictionary of National Biography, was curate of Calverley 
Church, 1772-75. Those interested in heredity may make 
interesting comparison with his published works and those 
of my great-uncle, the late Mr. J. B. Dimbleby (" Herbert 
Broughton"), author, who was nephew to John Malam, the 
inventor, I mention in the notes on " Robin Hood," etc., The 
Rev. William Malam, M.A., Rector of Keighley, Yorks, and 
Buxton, author of Black Letter Saints, was another nephew and 
I think they must have been members of quite distinct branches of 
the Malhams. John Malum, or Malham, of Elslack, married the 
grand-daughter of Margaret Calverley, daughter of Sir Walter 
de Calverley, Kt. (who died in 1404), and great-great aunt to 



Sir William Calverley, Kt., I mention in lines 74-76. Reginald, 
Bishop Heber, the hymn-writer, and Mary Cholmondeley, author 
of Red Pottage, etc., are in this descent, through Ann Malum, 
sister to William, whom Reginald Heiber of Marton married. 
See Calverley Charters in British Museum, and as published by 
the Thoresby Society. 


This was perhaps the wild anemone or the wood sorrel, but I 
write of my earliest childhood, and cannot be sure which flower. 

. . . t' honey tells Heather honey has that aroma, and 
so on. 


Sunwithards To go round contrary to the sun. Those who 
wished to see the fairies were always thus advised by the professors 
of the Black Art. 

. . . scrawmin up a tree. Professor Joseph Wright, in his 
English Dialect Dictionary, queries the spelling of this word. I 
have not heard it myself in the Windhill district, but it was quite 
common in Bradfield and Stannington, north of Sheffield. It is 
"scrawm" (scrome), and never, so far as I know, "scrawn." 


A forsak. If an egg be touched, the birds will not hatch out. 
And thus a nest may be found in the autumn containing one or 
more forsake eggs. "Don't mell wi em or the'll be forsak !" is 
always heard among country-bred lads when a bird's eggs are 
found in the nest. 


When the feasts, or tides, begin their round the time is 
generally after hay-time the country folk say the year is "on the 
turn." It is therefore not without a feeling of regret that we hear 
the first strains of a distant tide on the hills. 


One S'omas Day. St. Thomas' Day, the festival preceding 
Christmas. On this day it used to be a Yorkshire custom to eat 
small cakes called "S'omas cakes." 

NOTES 147 

Enah sa gan (ser gan) "In a little while she began . . ." 
Sa (ser), she, I have heard only in the rapid speech of old Wind- 
hill speakers, and it has sympathy with sal, sarn't, sud, which in 
modern English are shall, shan't, and should. See " 'E'd Said It !" 

An E am owd "And I am old." See "Coverla," note 128. 


This ballad on Robin Hood in regard to the story of the 
horse I have built entirely from my imagination. Scholars now 
well know that Robin is of questionable history. Obviously the 
two chief "boggards" of our primitive ancestors were the wild 
man and the wild beast, and any incident that unexpectedly 
presented a kind and romantic side of these boggards at length 
produced a legend, a ballad, a song, and ultimately the work of 
the grave historian, who built upon the material facts which the 
ballad-maker had introduced to give local appeal and appearance 
of truth to his narrative. 

Behind the legend there are often ages of superstition, and 
any characteristics or associations of a particular superstition were 
always conveniently suggestive for the ballad. Thus, as Dr. 
Henry Bradley has pointed out, Robin Hood is Hod, the god of 
wind, a form of Woden; Maid Marian is Morgen, the dawn 
maiden; Friar Tuck is Toki, the spirit of frost and snow. But 
fact has a way of being an apparent imitation of precedent legend, 
and it is clear England soon had her Robin Hoods men who 
were given that name. To live an outlaw in the woods and be 
proficient in archery were the two essentials for his popular outfit: 
Robin o' th' Woods, or Robin Hood, he became. 

Among all the dubbed Robin Hoods there certainly must 
have been characters deserving more than others the special 
association, and as a Yorkshireman whose boyhood was spent in 
Loxley Chase I have pleasure in claiming herewith special dis- 
tinction for the Robin Hood of Loxley, in Bradfield, north of 
Sheffield. Robin has been declared also to be a native of 
Wakefield, and likewise to have been Earl of Huntingdon 
though only the convenience of an early rhyme is said to be 
responsible for this; and he is stated to be buried at the old 
nunnery, Kirklees, near Dewsbury, on the site of which Sir George 
Armytage, Bart., one of my readers, resides. Mr. S. O. Addy, 
M.A , in his Sheffield Glossary, prints an extract from " Harrison's 
Survey," a manuscript dated 1637: 


"Imprimis, Great Haggas croft near Robin Hood's Bower. 
. . . Item, Great Haggas croft near Robin Hood's 
Bower. . . . Item, little Haggas croft, wherein is the 
foundacion of a house or cottage where Robin Hood 
was born, this piece is compassed about with Loxley 

That this volume according to all circumstances will be a sur- 
viving and standard monument to the memory of our ancient 
mother speech, Inglis or the Northumbrian Dialect, I perceived 
before I had finished the book. The knowledge of its special 
idiom being that of the West Riding dialect as spoken about 
Keighley, Bradford, and Leeds, brought before me the claims of 
some other Yorkshire dialects the Craven or North-West Riding 
dialect heard from Skipton to Malham; the East Riding, which 
extends from Hull to York; the North Riding and Cleveland 
dialect, as spoken from Whitby to Richmond; and that of Hallam- 
shire or the South West Riding spoken from Sheffield and having 
sympathy with the Lancashire border dialect, extending north- 
wards to Huddersfield, Halifax, and Haworth the Haworth 
natives and their dialect marvellously recall to me those of 
Stannington near Sheffield, where I lived in my boyhood and 
school days. As a Malham "of ye antient family of Malum 
owt of Malum, Yorkshire," I had by blood a very personal interest 
in the dialect of Craven and the North West Riding; while my 
paternal grandmother was a native of Hull and her people sea- 
farers, and on another side my father's paternal great-uncle, Mr. 
John Malam, the civil engineer and inventor, was Sheriff of Hull 
(i847), a this making me at one with the Hull and East Riding 
folk. And as to the Hallamshire dialect, I am a native of 
Sheffield, while my maternal grandfather, the late Mr. William 
Whitworth, was a scissors and cutlery manufacturer (vide White's 
Sheffield Directory, 1860, plate 138), albeit his father was of the 
Manchester Whitworths; my maternal great-great-great uncle 
Slater was a book publisher in Fargate, Sheffield, nearly a 
hundred years ago, and he or his son published The Sheffield 
Figaro newspaper. On another side I am lineally descended 

1 Inventor of the first dry gas meter, etc., 1819; was awarded a gold 
medal by the Society of Arts for his services to the public as an inventor : 
built gas works abroad and throughout the United Kingdom in the pioneer 
days of gas manufacture. For his inventions see Peckstone's Treatise on Coal 
Gas; Hughes; Richards on Coal Gas Manufacture, and Speight's Nidderdale; 
see also a letter I wrote on " The family of Malham, Malam or Malum," in 
Lincolnshire Notes and Queries, April 1904. 

NOTES 149 

from the Rev. Dr. Cuthbert Browne, 1 Curate of Attercliffe, 1662- 
1673, Rector of Treeton, and Prebendary of York Cathedral, 
chaplain to the Duke of Norfolk, through the daughter of his son, 
the Rev. Obadiah Browne, M.A., Rector of Whiston, Yorkshire, 
1689-1738, my maternal great something grandmother. So 
Yoricshiremen of every part may understand I personally must 
have felt that the different dialects of our broad-acred shire called 
for a place in my volume. 

Hence I have written in the representative five dialects of 
Yorkshire this ballad " Robin Hood an his Merrie Men at come 
fro t' Ridins Threi." I open the ballad in the Windhill, or 
Bradford, variety of the dialect, and let Robin Hood himself 
speak the same dialect throughout; Joa Whittel speaks the 
Hallamshire, or Sheffield dialect. Hugh Cleveland uses the 
North Riding dialect; Dick Skidby the East Riding dialect, and 
John Langstroth the Craven dialect. Ample opportunity of 
making interesting comparison between the several varieties of 
the Northumbrian dialect Scots, Northumberland, Cumberland, 
and Durham is afforded by the five Yorkshire dialects I give 
herein. Thus a close relationship is seen to exist between the 
East Riding and North Riding dialects and the Scots dialect; and 
it may be noted that the Scots dialect and those of the East and 
North Ridings of Yorkshire are less masculine, or virile, than the 
Windhill dialect, in which I have written the whole of these 
"Tales and Ballads." Scots and the East and North Ridings gane, 
stane, steean, aud, auld, bauld, baud, cauld, caud, gang, nae, mair, 
seea, heeam, hame, etc., have not the strength of West Riding 
goan, stooan (gooern, stooern); owd, bowld, cowd (Yorkshire 
ow); goa (gooer), noa (nooer), nooan (nooern), moor (mooer), 
soa (sooer); hooam (hooerm), etc. 

The Rev. M. C. F. Morris in Yorkshire Folk Talk, dealing 
with the East and North Ridings dialects, asserts that three- 
fourths of the Yorkshire dialect words are survivals from the 
Danish conquest of a thousand years ago. Certain it is that after 
A.D. 900 many old Icelandic words were introduced by the Danes, 
but the more or less close relationship of the Angles, the Saxons, 

1 "... Rev. Cuthbert Browne, commonly called Dr. Browne . . . came 
from Greasborough to Sheffield. . . . He was chaplain to the Duke of 
Norfolk, and had a general commission for the management of his Grace's 
estates in and about Sheffield. . . . He was ordered to attend the House of 
Peers, November 1678, for a private letter he wrote to the Duke of Norfolk 
advising him to go out of town. . . . " History of Hallamshire, pages 409- 
413, 491; see also the Series in the House of Peers concerning The Popish 
Plot, lamo, 1681, pp. 85-91. 


and the various Scandinavian races, must never be forgotten in 
these considerations of the associations of words. 


Ne I sal. I have heard only old speakers use this negative. 

Ta's sad flayd. A perfect idiom for " you are much afraid." 
Say, tar's, for "you are." 

I s' with the apostrophe after it is either a form of I sal or I 
sud, and in sound is oss or osst, short o; hence osst finnd it, oss 
match, for " I shall find it," and " I shall match." 


A bensillin. The ancient rivalry among the Sheffield cutlers 
of different valleys is here referred to. Bensillin is a thrashing. I 
have not met the word Windhill way, but it is used farther north, 
in Nidderdale. 

Mull is a depreciative, and seems to be related to mullock, 
both words meaning originally rubbish. "To mak a mull" is 
the same as "to mak a mullock," and means a fiasco, a failure, a 
tangle. O.E., mullok, rubbish; Flemish, mul, dust. 

Den bank. We Stannington boys always called what Mr. 
S. O. Addy and others write down as Dean bank " Den bank." 

Wheel. The name of grinding sheds. When the wheel was 
not working the water was shut out from its little dam, and passed 
by the side; and if the dam-shuttle got clogged up the dam 
became stagnant. 

Tharf cake. A heavy, unleaven, sweet oatmeal cake now 
made chiefly on the fifth of November. It is not known by that 
name in the Bradford district, being called "parkin," and an 
inferior kind " moggy." But in the Craven district, Skipton way, 
it is called "thar cake." "Therf loove," or "tharf loav," means 
unleaven bread in Wicliff's Gospels, Matt. xxvi. (A.S. theorf). 

Yo st, or yo s' a form of "you shall." 

Soa hetterly " With such intensity or earnestness." It also 
means bitterness, and in a sense spite. "... heterly to the 
hyge hylles thay haled on fast" West Midland (Lancashire) 
dialect, 1360. (Icelandic heitr, hot.) 

Smither-slek'd. Sheffield mothers brighten steels with dry 
"smither-slek," the fine steel scales that exfoliate from red-hot 
iron on the stithy or anvil. 

NOTES 151 

Bell Hagg a rough, craggy hill above Den Bank. Here I first 
saw a shrew-mouse, and was amused to see him shrug his "snaht." 

Mut cree might be permitted to expand. Grain for "frum- 
erty" is first put "to cree," or soak in a stew-pot to cook. 

Fasch the turned edge of an over-sharpened blade when it 

Tha brades o "manifest its characteristics," herewith those 
of audacity. Used also about Bradford. 

Fleribokes circumlocution. Also used for an extravagant 
style of hand-writing. 


Yan wud "one mad." This word is not common to the 
West Riding, but it occurs in the Lancashire dialect. (A.S. 
wod, mad.) 

Whilk which; occurs in the Northumbrian dialect, 1250. 
It is also common to Chaucer. 

Routed " wandered off." Chaucer uses the verb. 

Karlethwaite. An ancient documentary spelling. See the 
Rev. Canon J. C. Atkinson's Fifty Years in a Moorland Parish ; 
also for an interesting geological description of the submerged 
forests which cause the black or marsh lands of Daneby. 

Beggar staff The old sign of a beggar. 

Non ? What ? 

Iv a gert router With a sudden start of astonishment. 

At Whitby Abbay. Whitby, a retreat of Robin Hood. One 
day Abbot Richard of the Abbey and Monastrie of Whitby in 
1185, took Robin and Little John to the top of the abbey, where- 
from each shot an arrow which fell not far from Whitby Laths 
. . . more than a mile away! In memory of this a pillar, says 
the historian, was set up by the Abbot, a field where one arrow 
fell being called Robin Hood's Field, and where the other fell, 
John's Field. Robin Hood's Bay, about six miles from Whitby, 
is said to have been the spot where Robin had his fishing-boats. 

Anthers ye s' see " In case you should see." 

Allus blosses " Always shows itself to good advantage." 
" Bloss up ! " is in Yorkshire an injunction to brighten up. 

Nae drith wi bosses " No success in regard to horses." 

Thoo is t' gan or dee " You must go, or, remaining, die." 

Robin Hood ends this part of the ballad in the Windhill 

Mak oss " Induce to set out earnestly and arrange for." 



The reader will notice the absence of the definite article, as in the 
Northumbrian Psalter I quote in the Introduction to this volume. 

Nut akin . . . aboot " Not wandering aimlessly about." In 
the West Riding we use "allakin abaht" similarly. 

Breed, for "breadth," is common to other of the Yorkshire 
dialects. (A.S. braedo, breadth.) 

Back end o spot "Far end of room." 

Feigh. This is also common to the West Riding. See my tale, 
" In t' Bleggin Days." The word may be, I believe, of Icelandic 
origin, meaning "to cleanse." Indeed, John Nicholson's Hull 
Dialect (Glossary) gives very many Icelandic etymologies of East 
Riding words, though we should remember the difficulties the 
cognate origin of the Scandinavian and other kindred races creates 
for the student of words. 

Callit "scolding." The W.R. word cal, to gossip, is perhaps 
related, as gossips may be scolds and scolds gossips. 


Breead-fleeak, or fleik a rack hung overhead in kitchens to 
dry the haver cake, or oat cake. 

Oss to tell" attempt to relate." 

Hart bell cry of the hart. 

Hossin-clog, from which a horse is mounted. 

A ... dab-hand "clever." 

Wayer. The real pronunciation of "way." See my remarks 
on ai. 

Threp us aht an sleer "assert contrary to evidence, and then 
to ridicule." 


Craven (Craigvan) is the Switzerland of Yorkshire, by reason 
of its wild, romantic character, and its position on the Yorkshire 
"frontiers." The Rev. Mr. Carr's work Craven Dialect, 1828, 
points out that different parts of Craven have a dialect like 
that of Leeds and Bradford, West Lancashire, and the North and 
East Ridings: "The dialect is spoken in its greatest purity on 
the banks of the Wharf in the parish of Skipton to Langstroth, or 
Strother, the language of which is so well described by Chaucer; 
and on the course of the Are, or Aire, from Skipton to the 
northern boundary of the parish of Kirkby Malham . . . five or 
six miles east of Skipton parish, the pronunciation is entirely 

NOTES 153 

changed. Thus, house is hoose, mouse moose, cow coo, as in 
the North and East Ridings. . . ." While I have endeavoured 
to write the purest and accepted form of the Craven dialect, I 
open it by John Langstroth using two forms of his dialect at the 
same time, to compliment the West Riding Robin Hood and the 
East Riding Dick Skidby. After that John Langstroth speaks 
the Craven dialect in ordinary. 

Thoo's t' beatem "You are the winner or outwitter." 

Roy it reight Put on the lord or master. 

Robin Hood concludes in the Windhill dialect, and shows 
John Langstroth he knows details of Craven's history and is 
intimate with the Prior of Fountaynes Abbay. Malgo, who 
reigned before Caractacus, is mentioned in the old chronicles, 
Gervasii Cantuariensis Opera Gesta Regum in particular. Place 
name etymologies are either geographical or personal and argu- 
ment can play the advocate for each. The mention of Malgo 
as the founder of Malham is made in a footnote to an ancient 
Latin or Anglo-Saxon chronicle I read some years ago, but I do 
not just now recall the title. 

I have included Ulf Malham, Uctred, Ingold, Torsin, John, 
Roschil, Godid, and other Malhams, to give an idea, as scarcely 
anything else save the dialect itself can, of the origin of the race 
who were natives here, these names having been long familiar to 
me. They are found in the published memorials of the numerous 
benefactors to Fountains Abbey in the twelfth and thirteenth 
centuries, and may be seen in Burton, etc. Says Mr. Harry 

" Malham, which before the Conquest was one of the manors 
of Bernulf, was granted by the Conqueror to William 
de Percy; and soon after, on the origin of local appella- 
tions, gave name to a race of mesne lords who frequently 
occur in the attestations of the most ancient charters 
relating to Craven. Of these Sir Hertil de Malham 
(Malum) appears from circumstances to have lived in 
the reign of Stephen. The Manor of Malham belonged 
to the Abbots of Fountains, and was in the parish of 
Kirkby-in-Malhamdale. . . ." 


Loppards. Milk when sour is said to be loppered. 
Hask-watter. Glossaries give hask or ask as "dry," "parched." 
But it is also used for " hard " water. 


Winter trosslin snooa gahn. A woman's dress trailing on the 
ground and sweeping up the dust is described as trosslin. 
(Icelandic tros, sweepings, dregs, filth). 

A fause peepin daisy. Fause means presumptive, forward, 
too-knowing, applied often in a tolerative spirit. It has been 
said it is allied to foxy, but the terms are certainly not synony- 
mous. Nor is it to be confounded with a similar word in the 
Scots dialect meaning false. 

Fotchin armsful back. To fetch, or fotch, is often used in 
the sense of to take, as well as bring. 

Top ower tooa. From head to foot; altogether; utterly. 
See, " Till top ower tail, etc.," in ' ' Robert Bruce," in the Aberdeen 
Scots dialect of John Barbour, 1375, quoted by me in my 


I wrote this a year ago, at Whitsuntide, exactly as I state. 
See note 128 on "Coverla." 

. . . S'nt Luke bull heigh. The Eccleshill church banner 
with the bull, representative of the Ripon diocese. 


70. ... Harkela. 

72. ... Ye a Sir. This is a perfect rhyme. See note 310- 
12 on " Kirkstall Abbay." My reader will observe that, in the 
manner of poetry, I take the license of rhyming Coverley with ei, 
as if pronounced Coverlei. A set form of spelling a name is 
quite a modern method. 

127. Thi oan cade bahn. A child brought up tenderly for 
the sake of its delicateness. Here is implied a plea of forgiveness 
for inherent faults. 

131. Noa nifflin nafflin. No sentimental trifling. 

138. ... Sir. 

140. . . . Yeh. A true rhyme. I gave it here specially to 
show the value of this interesting affirmative which is used like 
"yes" ordinarily, and is distinct from the hearty affirmative 

144. To be dependent upon one for meyt and sup means 
wholly. Meyt is solid food, including all viands; sup, every 
common drinkable liquid taken with meals. 


THE letters C., E., H., and N. indicate when a word is 
common to the Craven district, the East Riding, the 
Hallamshire district, or the North Riding-. Though often 
such a word may be used in the West Riding, to which all 
the other words belong. Be it noted that most of the words 
used in the West Riding are common also to the above- 
mentioned districts of Yorkshire, and, of course, Craven and 
Hallamshire are in the West Riding. It is not surprising 
that certain parts preserve ancient words which are unknown 
to another. For I find that individual Yorkshiremen in one 
and the same locality will use old Yorkshire words their very 
neighbour does not understand, these having come down to 
them through their own particular Yorkshire ancestors. 

The sound sometimes I give in brackets, but the chapter 
I have written on the pronunciation should be read, and the 
notes on my ballad entitled " Robin Hood an His Merrie 
Men at come fro t' Ridins Threi." Ern in my examples is 
always short as possible; er and erl are always short; ah 
is the Yorkshire long back , and is not like the modern 
English exclamation ah mah, thah, teah, and yah are 
exceptions. And fer, far, is fur. 

A (ER, and like a in apple), have. 

A (er), on ; of. See O. 

Aback-a-beyont, out of the way. E. 

Abahn, going;. 

Abaht, about. 

Abide, endure ; tolerate. 

Aboon, above ; more. 

Aboot, about. E. ; N. 

Ackren, Ackorn, acorn. 

Addle, earn. 

Afeard, afraid. 

Aflayd, frightened. 

Afore, afoor, before. 


Agate, commenced ; working ; 
going ; active ; busy. 

Agean (ergeern), again ; nigh. 

Ageean, ,, ,, 

Agee, awry ; to one side. E. 

Agen, again. 

Agooan, agoan, gone by ; gone. 

Ahr, our ; yes. 

Aht, out. 

Aigh, hawthorn; hawthorn blossom. 

Aighs (aergs, like , in egg), haw- 
thorn berries. 

Aigle, eagle. 



Aigre, scur. 

Aim, purpose ; try ; intend. N. 
Aim, hoar frost. 
Akest, asquint ; oblique. E. 
Akin, wandering aimlessly. E. 
Al, will. 
Al be, although. 
Allus (alluss), always. 
Aloan, alooan, alone. 
Amaist, almost. N. 
Am'it, am'ot, am not. 
An, and, if, than. 
Anenst, anent. E. ; N. 
An all, also ; too ; likewise. 
Ane, one. N. 
Aneyth, aneath, beneath. 
Anoan, anon ; presently. 
A'nt, aunt. 

Anthers, lest ; in case. N. 
A-payin, beating. 
Ar, scar ; weal. 
Arf, afraid. N. 
A-rove, a-stir ; set out. C. 
Arrand, spider. 
Arle, earn. H. 
'Art-wark, heart-ache. 
Aside, compared with. 
Askard, lizard, newt. 
Ass, ashes. 
Ass, ask. 
Ast, asked. 
Asteead, instead. 
At, v., attack ; set on. 
At, who, whom, which, whose (no 
sibilant possessive) ; that ; lest. 
At-efter, afterwards. 
Ather (ayther), either. 
Aud, awd, old. E. ; N. 
Avril, April. 
Awdered, aged. E. 
Awther (oh-ther), either. 
Ax, ask. E.; H.; N. 

BABBISH, childish. N. 
Back-end, close of year. 
Bade, bathe. 
Badly, ill ; unwell. 
Bahn, child ; near ; going. 
Bahnest, nearest. 
Baht, without. 
Bairk, bake. 
Balk, cross-beam. 
Bally-bleeare, bonfire. N. 

Bam, trick. N. ; brow-beating. E. 
Barghest, a legendary hound- 
apparition ; guy trash. 
Barkle, incrust. H. 
Bass, soft basket. H. 
Bastin, thrashing. H. 
Baynie, child. E. 
Beald, cattle-shed. E. 
Beatem, winner, conqueror. C. 
Beb, sip. C. 
Beeasts, cows ; cattle. 
Becahl'd, becowled. 
Beck, brook ; stream. 
Becoss, because. 

Bedizen, bedeck; illuminate; strew. 
Beggar-staff, old sign of the beggar. 
Beheend, behind. 

Belantered, delayed ; over-late. N. 
Beld, pret of Bell. 
Belike, perhaps. H. 
Belive, quickly ; soon. N. 
Bell, cry out ; proclaim ; weep. 
Bensillin, thrashing ; chastisement. 

C.; H. 

Bent, moorland ; coarse grass. 
Beshrew, curse. 
Bet, pret of beat ; overcame. 
Bi (like mi), by ; with ; be. 
Bide, wait ; abide. 
Big, build. 
Biggin, building. 
Bile, a boil. 
Bilk, rob ; cheat. H. 
Bin, been 
Binch, bench. 
Birk, birch. 
Birle, pour out. H. 
Bi 't (bit, short), by it ; be it. 
Bi t' (as above), by the. 
Black-frost, ground frost. 
Blackland, bog ; marsh. N. 
Blain, white ; pale. 
Blainin, bleaching. C. 
Blake, yellow. C. 
Blashy, weak ; silly. E. 
Blathry, muddy. E. 
Bleead, bleed. 
Bleggin, blackberrying. 
Blegs, brambles, or blackberries. 
Blew, Blieu, blue. 
Bliew-bell, wild hyacinth. 
Blob, bubble ; little round vesicle ; 

Blooid, blood. 



Blosm, blossom ; bloom. 

Bloss, improve on ; exaggerate. 

Bluther, weep. 

Bocken, nauseate. 

Boggard, eerie ; ghostly ; devilish. 

Bonnie, pretty ; sweet ; ideal ; 


Booit, Boit, boot ; to boot. 
Bosky, woody. 
Bother, trouble. 
Bothrin, anxiety ; worry. 
Bowld, bold. 

Brade o, resemble ; be like. 
Brah, brow. 
Brak, broke. 
Brakky, salty ; bitter. 
Brash, dry twigs ; rubbish. 
Brashy, delicate ; ailing. N. 
Brass, coin ; money. 
Brast, burst. 

Brat, child ; pinafore ; smock. 
Brazent, impudent. 
Breead, bread. 
Breead-fleeak, frame overhead for 

oat cake. 

Breears, Brears, briars, 
Breed, breadth. E. 
Brecken, brake ; dog-fern. 
Breet, bright. 
Brek, break. 

Brent, steep ; pompous ; proud. N. 
Brig, bridge. 

Brimm'd, kindled ; lighted. 
Brod, dig ; thrust. 
Brokken, broken. 
Browt, brought. 
Brun, brown ; burn. 
Brunn'd, burnt ; browned. 
Bruntlin, beetle. H. 
Brussen, p.p., burst. 
Brust, burst. 

Brust-up, the end ; catastrophe. 
Bud, but. 
Bug, proud ; conceited ; strutting. 


Buish, bush. 
Bull-week, week before Christmas. 


Bun, pledged. 
Bummelkites, blackberries. 
Bunch, knock about. E. 
Bur (buhrr, short), but. H. 
Burn, brook. 
Butter-blob, kind of buttercup. 

Byre, cow-house. E. 

CADE, spoilt ; petted ; delicate. 

Caff, chaff. E. 

Gagged, caked. 

Cah, a cow ; crouch. 

Cah-week, second week before 
Christmas. H. 

Cahr, crouch ; bend. 

Cairk, cake ; bread. 

Cakin-day, feasting day ; celebra- 
tion. H. 

Cal (rhymes with al in talent), 
gossip ; talk. 

Call, upbraid ; abuse. 

Callit, scolding. E. 

Cannel, Can'le, candle. 

Canny, healthy ; contained ; know- 

Cap, astonish. 

Cappia, wonderful ; astonishing. 

Carr, marsh ; swamp. 

Cauf, calf. 

Cauf-week, third week before Christ- 
mas. H. 

Chamer, chamber. 

Chavel, chew loosely. 

Cheeat, Cheet, give joyful vent to 
song or notes. 

Chicken-chow, swinging pastime. 

Childer, children. 

Chockful, full as possible. 

Choil, haste away. 

Chois, Chooase, choose. 

Chuff, delighted ; proud. 

Chumpin, gathering tree-stumps, 
etc., from the woods. 

Chunk, solid piece. 

Cinglit, under shirt next the skin. 

Clack, gossip. 

Clag, eat like dough, heavy ; clog. 

Claht, strike; chastise; sharp blow; 

Clam, starve ; hunger. 

Clappin, fixing upon; meeting with. 

Clarted, smeared thickly ; caked as 
with mud. like dough, heavy; sticky. 

Cleat, foalfoot. 

Cletch, brood. 

Click, snatch ; seize hold of. 

Cloa, garment. 

Clock, beetle; lady-bird. 



Clog, log. 

Cloggy, heavy. 

Clois, field ; a close. 

Clong, clang. 

Clout, strike ; cuff. 

Cluther, gather round ; encompass. 

Coil, coal ; fuel ; noise. 

Coit, coat. 

Coom, come. N. 

Come, corned, pret, came. 

Corned, p.p. of come. 

Con, know ; perceive. 

Cotter, punish. 

Coverla (Coverler), Calverley. 

Cowd, cold. 

Cower, and cowlrake, iron to clear 

out cokes or flues. 
Cowk, heart ; kernel ; bottom ; 

Crack, boast. 
Crahd, crowd. 

Craigvan (Craven), obsolete. 
Cratch, a frame. 
Cree, soften in water as hard grain. 

Croodled up, shrunken up in a heap 

as with cold or pain. 
Crow-fooit, wild hyacinth with three 

or four blue bells, giving the 

appearance of a crow's foot. 

Crozz'l'd, burnt coal or log incrusted 

and charred. 
Crudded, curdled. 
Cruds, curds. 
Crusses, crusts of bread. 

DAEL (daaerl), dale. 

Daft-down, atmospheric depression. 

Daft-watty, simpleton. E. 

Dahn, down. 

Daht, doubt. 

Dar, dare. 

Daze, make or become heavy, as of 

bread ; bewilder. 
Deam, dame. 
Dean, Den, valley. 
Dee, die ; do. N. 
Deea, do. E. ; day. N. 
Deeafly, lonely. N. 
Deean, done. N. 
Deean't, don't. N. 
Deear, door. E. 
Deck, refuse ; carp ; cavil. 

Delf, stone-quarry. 

Delve, dig; quarry; work. 

Demmicked, gathered ; hurt ; bad. 

Deng, pret, upbraided. 

Dew, do. 

Dike, river ; stream ; pond. 

Dirl, quaver. C. 

Dither, tremble. 

Dodder, mud. 

Dole, grieve ; bemoan. 

Doon, down. E. ; N. 

Dousin, drenching. 

Dowd, Dowdy, scold ; ill, or over- 
dressed woman. 

Dowter, daughter. 

Drahnd, drown. 

Dratin, droning ; singing without 
tune or spirit. 

Drave, pret, drove. 

Dree, miserably monotonous ; dismal. 

Dreedist, dryest. 

Drith, success ; prosperity. N. 

Druffen, drunken. 

Drukken, intoxicated ; drunken. 

Duff, evade. 

E (EE), I. See notes on ballad, 

E (like e in set), have. 
E (short i as in it), in ; at. 
'E (same sound as above), he. 
Earn, uncle. 
Ed, had. 

Eckleshill, Eckershill, Eccleshill. 
E'd (idd), he had ; he would. 
Ee, eye. 
Eeather, either. 
Een, eyes. 
Efter, after. 
Eldin, firewood ; fuel. 
Em, them. 

Enah, presently; soon. 
Eniff, enough. 
'Er, her. 
Est', art thou. 
'E's (is), he is ; he has. 
'E s' (iss), he shall or should. 
Esh, ash-tree. 
Esseheld, Esholt. 
Etten, eaten. 
Ev (see hev), have. 
'Evn, heaven. 
Eych, Eeach, each. 
Eyt, pres. of eat. 



FAAR, fair ; feast. C. 

Faerk, trick ; stratagem. 

Fahl, ugly; angry; wicked; a hen. 

Fair, very ; much ; pure ; right ; 

Fairly, quite. 

Fan, Fahnd, pret, found. 

Fasch, burred edge of a blade. H. 

P'ause, too knowing ; precocious 
[not used as "false"]. 

Felther'd, entangled. 

Feeal, fool. N. 

Feeath, reluctant. E. 

Feigh, Fey, applied to a dog scratch- 
ing itself ; cleanse; clear out. 

Fend, look after ; provide. 

Fer (fur), far. 

Ferrist, farthest. 

Fettle, good condition; clean out. 

Feyld, field. 

Feyt, fight ; battle. 

Finnd, find. 

Fire-fanged, over-baked; burnt. E. 

Flah, flower ; bloom. 

Flannin, flannel. 

Flay, frighten. 

Flayd, frightened ; timorous. 

Flaysome, terrible ; fearful. 

Fleer, laugh scornfully. 

Fleng, pret, flung. 

Fleriboke, circumlocution; flourish. 

Flig, fly; go; depart. 

Fligg'd, flew. 

Flit, remove ; change abode. 

Floor, flour. E. 

Fog, aftermath. 

Foist, bitter; brakish; ill-smelling. 

Foit, Fooit, foot. 

Fond, silly ; doting ; affectionate. 

Foor, Fore, before. 

Forest king, tallest and oldest tree 
in the wood. 

Forger (fergerr, short), forget. 

Forrard, forward. 

Forseur (fersewer), truly. 

Fotch, bring ; fetch. 

Power (Yorkshire ow), four. 

Fowk (as above), folk. 

Fowl (as above), mould ; decay. 

Fra, from. E., N. 

Frack, impertinent ; over bold. N. 

Fratch, quarrel. 

Freeasin, freezing. 

Freer, friar. 

Freeten, frighten. 

Fro (frer), from. 

Frow, term of feminine reproach. 

Frushed, rushed. E. 

Fullock, rush; impetuous onset. If. 

Fun, p.p., found. 

GAB, perorations ; talk ; volubility. 

Gael (gaaerl), gale. 

Gaed, went. N. 

Gahn, gown. 

Gain, near. 

Gainer, nearer. 

Gairt, Gate, way; road. 

Gallostang, rake; scamp. 

Gallus, roguish: rakish. 

Galluses, braces. 

Gam, sport; trick; frolic. 

Gammin, pretending. 

Gan, began. 

Can, go. E., N. 

Gang, go. C., E., N. 

Gang'd, went. C. , N. 

Gannan, going. N. 

Gannin, going. E., N. 

Garth, inclosure ; yard. 

Gat, got ; arrived. 

Gateards, on the journey. 

Gauvison, star-gazer ; silly fellow. 

Gav, gave. 

Geean, gone. N. 

Geed, gave. H. 

Gen, given. 

Ger (gerr, short), get. 

Gerrin, getting; becoming. 

Gert, great ; noble. 

Ghast (gasst), full of spirit and 

Ghast un, a very devil, but not in 

an ill sense. 
Gi, Gie (i short as in it ; and long e), 


Gif, if. E. 
Gill, glen. 
Gin, begin. 
Gin, if. N. 
Gip, nauseate. 

Gird, a brief fit ; a dizzy bout. 
Girn, grin ; sneer. 
Glaed (glaaerd), glade. 
Glear, glare. 
Glester, glisten. 
Gloar, stare fixedly. 
Gloarin, brilliant. 



Glum, solemn ; brooding. 

Goa (gooer), go ; happen. 

Goan-off, having a fling or holiday. 

Goan, dead ; gone. 

G oa- to, affair ; time; to do; fiasco. 

Goaved, stared vacantly. E. 

Goffnin, staring vacantly. E. 

Goi, Gow, kind of oath. 

Gois, goose. 

Goit, brook ; stream. 

Goit-hoil, bed of a beck. 

Goid-shut, good riddance ; glad 

Gooid, Goid, good. 

Gope, wander or stare aimlessly. 

Gor (grr), got. 

Gormless, senseless ; foolish 

Goster, laugh loudly. 

Gosterin, boisterous ; rude. 

Gowd, gold. 

Grab, acquisitiveness. 

Grahnd, ground. 

Grange, monastic farm and out- 

Grant, grand. 

Graft, hard work ; toil. 

Grean (greern), green. 

Greean, green. 

Greeave, grieve. 

Grindle-cowk, old grindstone. H. 

Grisli, unearthly; goblin. 

Grommel, Grummel, grumble. 

Gu, go. 

Gumpshun, good sense ; intellig- 

Guytrash, a legendary hound- 

HA (like a in apple), have. See 

also a, e, ev, and hev. H is 

not aspirate, as a rule. 
Hae, have. N. 
Hael (haaerl), hail. 
Haest (haaerst), haste. 
Hafe, half. 
Haffle, hesitate. N. 
Hag, plantation ; trees were sold 

by the hag. 
Hah, how ; hour. 
Hahnd, hound. 
Hahse, house. 
Hally, Hali (rhymes with valley); 

Han, have. H. 

Happen, perhaps. 

Har (hah), hour. 

Harden, harden steel. H. 

Harvis, harvest. 

Hask-watter, hard water. 

Haver-cake, oaten cake. 

Hawf, half. 

Hazin, thrashing. E. 

Hed, had. 

Hee, high ; hie. 

Heeaf, hearth ; home. N. 

Heeam, home. N. 

Heigh (hey), high ; hie. 

Height, called ; named ; bight. 

Hes (hez), has. 

Hetterly, bitterly ; hastily. H. 

Hev (like ev in level), have. 

Hevn, heaven. 

Hiddy, hide ; conceal. 

Hine ! away ! begone ! N. 

Hine berries, raspberries. H. 

Hing, pies. hang. 

Hip-breear, wild rose. 

Hissen (see missen), Hisseln, him- 

Hoap, Hooap (hooerp), hope. 

Hocker, stammer. 

Hod, hold ; believe ; maintain. 

Hoil, hole ; house ; abode. See 

Hoin, ill-use. 

Holmes, meadows by river-side. 

Holt (rhymes with salt), bog ; 
swamp ; woodland. 

Hooam, home. 

Hooamards, homewards. 

Hoos, Hoose, house. E.; N. 

Hoss, horse. 

Hossin-clog, an aid to mount a 

Ho't, hurt. N. 

How, chop ; fell. 

Howd (Yorkshire ow), hold. H. 

Hower, stone dresser or hewer. 

Hug, carry. 

Hull, home ; grinding place ; a 
humble abode. 

Hummel bees, humble bees. 

Hurstland, woodland. 

I (OR), I. 

I, same as E (short i in it), in ; at. 

I is, I am. E.; N. 

Ilkla, Ilkley. 



I'm (omm), I am. 

Imp, devil ; mischievous spirit. 

Ing, small field. 

Ingle, fire. 

Ingle-nooik, fireside corner. 

Innards, vitals, bowels. 

In t', in the. 

I' n't, is not ; is it not. 

I' n' t', is not the. 

Intul, v. , go into ; commence of. 

Iren, iron. 

Is, am. E. ; N. ; art; is; are. 

I's, I am. E.; N. 

I s' (oss), I shall or should. 

'Issen (see missen), himself. 

1st (osst), I shall or should. 

Ista, art thou. 

It, it ; its, no sibilant possessive. 

I t' (it), in the. 

Itsen (see missen), itself. 

Iv (short z"), of. 

Ivin, ivy. 

JABBER, chattering. 

Jender, rattle. 

Jert, jerk. 

Jimmers, hinges. 

Jimmy, slender ; fragile ; small. 

Jock, food ; bread. 

Jorum, a many ; an incredible 

Jowl, knock against another ; rap 

and hurt accidentally. 

KAHL, a blow. 

Kale, turn ; alternate ; follow after. 

Karlesthwaite, Carlesthwaite. N. 

Keethla (Keethler), Keighley. 

Kek, den ; retreat. H. 

Ken, know. N. 

Kenspack, plain to perceive. N. 

Kep, kept. 

Kersmas, Christmas. 

Kessen, p.p., cast off; given up. 

Kine, cows. 

Kirk, church. 

Kirk-maister, churchwarden. C. 

Kinl'd, kindled. 

Kinred, kindred. 

Kirn, churn. 

Kirsen'd, christened. 

Kit, pail. 

Kittle, tickle. 

Kitlin, kitten. 

Kneive, fist. 

Kneyd, knead. 

Kneyl, kneel. 

Kneyt, knight. 

Knodden, p.p., kneaded. 

Knooa, know. 

Knooad, knew ; known ; pret. and 


Knop, bud ; head. 
Knope, a rap. 
Kuss, kiss. 
Ky, cows. E. 

LADY-CLOCK, cow-lady ; lady bird. 

Laert, late. 

Lahd, loud. 

Lahke, like. N. 

Lahtle, little. E.; N. 

Lairk, play; sport. 

Lait, Late, seek. E. ; N. 

Laithe, barn ; out-house. 

Lake, play ; sport. 

Lammas, thrash ; punish. 

Lang, long. 

Langer, longer. 

Langsettle, long wooden seat. 

Lapp'd, wrapped. 

Lar, learn. H. 

Lat, late. 

Lat, lath. 

Laten, sought. C. 

Lavrock, skylark. 

Leear, gift ; learning. N . 

Leearn, teach ; learn. 

Leeast, leost (leerst), least. 

Leeaver, rather ; sooner. 

Leelacs, lilacs. 

Lees, untruths. N. 

Leet, Leeat, light. 

Lekkin, downpour ; shower. 

Leng, Ling, heather. 

Ler (lerr), let. 

Lerrin, letting. 

Let, pret., lighted, ignited. 

Lewk, look ; seem. 

Liffin, lifting. 

Lig, lay ; recline ; remain ; be idle. 

Like to, must ; can ; compelled ; 


Likely, handsome ; agreeable. 
Lile, little. N. 

Lilly-low, bonnie light ; flame. 
Lime, mortar ; mason's cement. 
Lithenin, broth flour thickening. 

1 62 


Looan (looern), loan; solitary. 

Loise, lose. 

Loisin, apprentice's attainment of 


Loppards, sour curds ; curdled milk. 
Lopper, curdle. 
Loss, pres., lose. 
Losses, pres., loses. 
Lot, a many ; large quantity. 
Loup, Lowp, spring, leap. 
Low (Yorkshire ow), light ; blaze. 
Lundy, heavy, lumbering. 

MA (may, maaer), make. 

Ma (mer), may ; me. 

Maaster, Maister, master. 

Mad, annoyed ; angry. 

Maerlerk, Mahlerk, horse-play ; 


Maes, makes. 

Maet (maaert), mate ; to company. 
Mah (mar), my. 
Mahnt (Yorkshire long a), mount ; 


Mahth (Yorkshire long a), mouth. 
Mahthin, in full cry. 
Maidnin-pot, large pot ; washing 

pot. H. 
Ma'in, making. 
Mair, more. N. 
Mak, make. 

Mak, s., mate ; match. E. 
Makky, proud ; obstinate. 
Malgham, Malham. C. Obsolete. 
Malghum, Malham. C. Obsolete. 
Malgum dael, Malhamdale. C. 


Manders, kinds. N. 
Mankin, busying ; meddling. 
Mard, spoil ; pet ; humour. 
Mardy, spoiled; pampered; carping. 
Mare, more. E 
Marrer, match ; tally. 
Mash, brew tea. 
Marrish, marshy. N. 
Mast, acorns, etc. 
Meead, made. E. 
Mebbe, may be. 
Med, Mod, might; could. 
Mei (mey), me. 
Mell, interfere ; meddle. 
Mence, decency ; newness. 
Merl, crumble ; mingle. 
Meyl, feast ; a meal ; meal. 

Meyt, food ; victuals. 

Mi (short / as in it), my ; me. 

Mich (short z), much. 

Mickle, much. N. 

Mill, thrash ; beat ; overcome. 

Miln, mill. 

Mind, watch ; remember ; care. 

Missen (rhymes with 't is when, 
but iss has not the sound of a), 

Mista, cowhouse ; barn. C. 

Mistal, cowhouse ; barn. 

Moant, must not. 

Moggy, plain kind of parkin or 

Moil, burrow; dig; work hard. 

Monny, many. 

Mooin, or Moon-pennies, wild 
marguerites. H. 

Moor (mooer), more ; heath. 

Moss, peat-bog. 

Mother mother, grandmother. 

Moucher, a hanger about ; disre- 
putable character. 

Moudiwarp, mole. 

Mowt, Mought, might. E. 

Muck, earth ; sludge. 

Mucky, dirty ; muddy. 

Mud, might ; must. 

Mull, spoil ; ruin ; defeat. 

Mummel, mumble. 

Mun, must. 

Murn, mourn. 

Murther, murder. 

Mush, squash. 

Mut, might. H. 

7 N, OF ; than ; nor ; one ; body. 

Nae, not ; no ; none. N. 

Nah, now ; at that time. 

Naigerin, gnawing. 

Nather, Nawther, Nother (see Ather 
and Awther), neither. 

Natter, worry ; fret ; cavil. 

Ne, nay ; never ; not. 

Necklet, necklace. 

Neeave, fist. E. 

Neet, night. 

Neigh (ney), nigh. 

Neive, fist. 

Nesh, very sensitive ; easily fright- 

Niffle-naffle, trifle. 

Nit, not. 



Nivver, never. 

Noa (nooer), no. 

Noan, Nooan, not ; none. 

Nobbud, only ; simply. 

Non ! what ! N. 

Noo, now. E. ; N. 

Nooik, corner ; nook. 

Nope, blow ; rap. 

Nor (nerr), than ; rather than ; 

nor; not (norr) page 75, bis. 
Now (Yorkshire ow see chapter on 

pronunciation), no. 
Nowt (Yorkshire ow), nothing. 
Nut, not. 
Nut-steeaned, stained with green 


O (ER), of; on. 

Oan, Ooan, own. 

Of (erv, short), on ; for ; at ; of. 

Offens, often. 

Ollin, holly. 

Om (omm), I am. 

Ommost (ommerst), almost. 

Onny, any. 

On 't, of it ; on it. 

On t', of the ; on the. 

Ony, only. 

Ooak, oak. 

Oop, up. N. 

Oor, our. E. 

Oppen, open. 

Oss, bestir ; rouse ; offer ; begin ; 

attempt ; be earnest. 
O t' (ert), of the. 

Other, next ; another ; the other. 
Oumer, shadow; shade. C. 
Ov, of. 

Owd (Yorkshire cnu), old. 
Ower-cussen, overcast. 
Ower, Owre (like owd), over ; 

too ; very. 
Owerd, gone by; tided; got past; 

overcome ; ended. 
Ower-reiked, over-reached. 
Owmly, dismal ; solitary. E. 
Owt (Yorkshire oiv), anything. 

PACKMAN, pedlar. 

Fade, wearied out ; beaten ; 

Panshun, baking or other large 

bowl. H. 
Pay, thrash; punch; strike. 

Peeak (peerk), perch. 

Peyl, peal. 

Pick, pitch. E. 

Piggan, Piggin, small pail. 

Pike, perceive ; look ; peep ; select ; 

go off; go out. 
Plah, plough. 
Plewf, plough. N. 
Pock-arred, pock-marked. 
Pois, thrash ; punch. 
Poisin, thrashing. 

Polsh, smash; pulverize; break up. 
Pole, go about aimlessly; fumble. 
Potter, poker. 
Poyt, poke. 
Prahd, proud. 

Precast, Preost (preerst), priest. 
Prog, food ; to work. 
Puir, poor. N. 
Fund, Pahnd, pound. 
Punky, dirty; unwashed. 
Pur (puhrr, short), put. 
Puss, hare. 

Puther, reek ; turmoil. 
Putten, p.p. put. 

QUEER, quire. 

Quick-sticks [in], at once ; im- 

RADDLE, discolour. 

Rael, rail ; storm at ; rave. 

Raffletoppin, rascal. 

Rah, din ; row. 

Rahm, room ; chamber. 

Rahnd, round. 

Raitch, blaze on a horse. 

Raiv, pret., tore. 

Ramp an reeave, rave and rage. 

Ran-tree, mountain ash. C. 

Ratton, rat. 

Reckon, pretend ; receive wages or 

Reeak, Reik, smoke. 

Reeam, cream. C. 

Recast, cease to proceed, as of a 
horse that is " a staller." 

Reed, angry. C. 

Reight (reyt), true; sane; proper; 
much; very; thorough; extra- 
ordinary; quite; extremely. 

Reighten, rectify; restore. 



Rekken, iron over fire to hold 
kettle, etc. 

Rekkan-crook or creeak, iron hook 
over fire. 

Ren, pret. , ran ; flowed. 

Reng, rang. 

Rew, repent. 

Reyt, see Reight. 

Rig, roof; back; on t' rig, carous- 
ing ; goin t' rig, going the fling. 

Rig-tree, roof-tree. 

Rile, vex; annoy. 

Rin, pres., run. N. 

Rive, tear ; demolish. 

Roans, fish roe. 

Roke, mist. N. 

Ronk, Rank, intense; strong. 

Rooarin, weeping. 

Rood, cross. 

Roster, outrageous ; rogue, used 

Rout, wander away. N. 

Router, a start or surprise. N. 

Rowan, ash-tree. 

Royd, a clearing. 

Rummlin, rumbling. 

S', SHALL ; should. 

Sa (ser), she. 

Backless, foolish; senseless. 

Sad, heavy ; cloggy ; unleaven ; 

very; much. 
Sael, sail. 
Sah, sour. 

Sah-faced, hard-featured. 
Sahd, side. E., N. 
Sahnd, sound. 
Sahthards, southwards. 
Saidst, said. N. 
Saig, sickle ; saw. 
Saim, lard. 

Sair, sore ; sadly. N. 
Sal (rhymes with tal in talent), shall. 
Sallow, willow. 
Saln't, shall not. 
Sam, pick up ; seize. 
Sark, shirt. 
Sarn't, shall not. 
Sayne, say. C. 

Scarr, high rock ; steep precipice. 
Scahl, frown ; scowl. 
Scether'd, scattered. 
Scoor, score ; a many. 
Scotch, toffee. 

Scrairk, crake hoarsely. 

Scran, food. H. 

Scraney, long and lean; attenuated. 

Scrappier, a dresser of stone blocks. 

Scratch, frame for killing pigs or 
sheep on. H. 

Scratty, scratchy. 

Scrawk, write with a scratchy pen. 

Scrawm, swarm up a straight tree- 
trunk. H. 

Scrump, rob an orchard. 

Scun, flee in fear ; disappear pre- 

Scutch, sharp-cutting whip ; thin 
branch to switch or chastise. 

Scutter, flee precipitantly. 

Sean, soon. E. 

Seea, so. E., N. 

Seea, say. N. 

Seea, sea ; see. 

Seear, sore. E. 

Seear, sure. N. 

Seeaves, rushes. 

Seed, saw; seen. 

Sect, sight ; spectacle. 

Sei, Sey, sea ; see. 

Seid, Seead, seed. 

Seld, sold. 

Sen, send. 

Seng, sang. 

Set, sat. 

S'e ta (setter), shall have to ; must. 

Seur, Sewer, sure. 

Seyk, Seeak, seek. 

S'finnd, shall find. 

S'gan, shall go. N. 

S'goa, shall go. 

Sha (sher), she. 

Shackle, wrist-bone. 

Shacks, Shags, shares ; portion. 

Shah, shower. 

Sha'll (shell), she will. 

Shaht, shout. 

Shandy, bashful ; shy. 

S'heed, shall heed. 

Shepster, starling. 

Shevvild, Sheffield. H. 

Shippies, starlings. 

Shippon, cow-shed. C. 

Shive, slice. 

S'hooam it, shall go home. 

Shoo, she. 

Shooin, Shoon, shoes. 

Shooit, Shoit, shoot. 


i6 5 

Short shacks, penurious living ; a 

curtailed share. 
Shots ! interjection. 
Shreea-mahse, shrew-mouse. 
Shrike, shriek. 
Shut, rid ; end ; exiled. 
Shuttered, fell down ; dropped. 
Sich (rhymes with pitch), such. 
Sichan, such a one. 
Siew, pret., sowed. 
Sike, such. N. 
Sile, rain ; downpour ; strain ; a 


Silin, pouring. 
Sin (short i in it), since. 
Sindin, clearing out ; scouring. C. 
Sing'd him [hes], p.p., sung himself. 
Sink-stooan, kitchen water-trough. 
Sithi, see you I look ! 
Skail, strew; scatter. E. 
Skare, clear the ashes to brighten 

the fire. 

Skeeal, pail. E. 
Skeely, skilful ; full of knowledge. 

Skeller, warp, as of drying wood or 


Skelp, blow; cuff. 
Sken, squint ; glance at obliquely. 
Skep, basket ; bucket. 
Skerrick, vestige ; a paltry coin. 
Skime, squint ; look at scornfully. 

Skimp, niggardly curtail; go "short 

Skirl, scream. 

Skuft, nape of neck ; a blow. 
Skulk, creep by stealth, as though 

afraid or dishonest. 
Skummer, kitchen shovel. 
Slack, valley. 
Slake, lick ; smear. 
Slape, cake thickly; smear over. 
Sleer, sarcastic remark ; sneer. 
Sleet, set on dogs to kill ; incite 


S'leever, should rather. 
Slek, small coal. 
Sleng, pret., slung. 
Slep, slept. 
Sleuth, hound. 
Slither, dart ; glide ; slip. 
Slive, slip stealthily. 
Sloam, caress doatingly. 

Slocken, choke; suffocate. 

Slug, fight out and win ; defeat ; 

Sluther, slide ignominiously. 

S'mak, shall make. 

S'match, shall match. 

Smither-slek, iron exfoliations from 
stithy or anvil ; to clean steel 
with the same. H. 

Smittle, transmit ; infect. 

Smook, smoke. 

Smoor, smother. 

Smoot, hare or rabbit track. E. 

Smoulther, smoulder. 

Snaht, snout. 

S'ne, shall not. 

Sneck, latch. 

Snew, pret., snowed. 

Snickle, snare ; strangle a hare with 
a noose. 

Snirp, shrink up ; nip ; wizen. 

Snitch, break a secret ; divulge. 

Snooa, snow. 

S' nooan, shall not. 

Snootch, nestle affectionately. 

Soa, Sooa (sooer), so ; hence ; thus ; 

Soft, simple ; foolish ; foolishness. 

S'omas Day, St. Thomas Day. 

Sooin, Soin, soon. 

Soss, force under ; souse ; subject. 

S'oss, sal oss. See oss. 

Sowl (Yorkshire ow), wash thor- 
oughly ; swill ; wallow ; down- 

Sownd, fainted. 

Sowt (Yorkshire ow), sought. 

Spaan, Spain, v., wean. C. 

Spak, spoke. 

Speyk, speak. 

Speyks, tales. 

Spice-cake, plum-cake ; Christmas 

Spiffin, splendid ; grand. 

Spluther, expostulate incoherently ; 

Spole, bobbin. 

Spraggy, bristling ; broken ; rocky. 

Spraht, sprout. 

Spreng, sprang. 

Sprent, scattered ; bespread. 

Sprodden, spread, p.p. 

Sprotten, p.p., sprouted; germin- 

1 66 


Sprottle, throw out the limbs; 

muscular contortion. 
Sprutter, spit and crackle. 
Spurrins, banns ; "askings." 
Stackers, staggers. E. 
Stall, weary ; relinquish ; stop. 
Stallin, tedious ; wearying. 
Stang, shoot of pain ; pain ; a pole. 
Starken, stiffen. 
Stark-naked, quite nude. 
Stash it ! stop it ! give up ! 
Stee, sty ; stile ; step. 
Steead, stood ; a place. 
Steyl, steal. 

Stiff, strong ; thick-set ; fat. 
Stoop, post. 

Stoor, value ; greatly prize. 
Slower, long pole. C. 
Stown, stolen. 
Strak, Streck, pret., struck. 
Sthreea, straw. E. 
Strang, strong. 
Strunt, root end of horse's tail. H. ; 

obstinate. E. 
Sud, should. 
Summat, something. 
Summer-goss, summer exhalation ; 

Sunwithards, contrariwise to the 


Sup, drink. 

Swankin, heavy ; improper. 
S* wed, shall wed. 
Sweeal, melt away. 
Sweeat, sweet. 
Swelt, die. 
Swep, swept. 

Sworn brothers, truest friends. 
S* wreet, shall write. 
Syke, stream. 

T, the ; thou. 

'T, it. 

Ta (tar when beginning a sentence, 

ter in the middle or finally), 


Ta (ter), to. 
Ta (tay or taaer), take. 
Taed (tayd or taaerd), took. 
Tael (taaerl), tale ; history. 
Taen, taken. 
Tahd, tide. E. 
Tahl, fight and win ; towel. 
Tahm, time. E. 

Tahn, town. 

Tahr, tower. 

Ta is (tar is), thou art. 

Taistril, rascal. 

Tak, take. 

T' ane, the one. N. 

Tards, towards. 

Tarn, lake ; mountain pool. 

Tee, tie. 

Teeah (teer), tea. 

Teeak, take. E. 

Teean, taken. E. 

Teem, pour. 

Tell, remember ; recall ; count ; 

declare ; state ; command. 
Teld, Telt, told ; counted. 
Temm'd, poured. 
Teng, sting. 
Tenger, deceiver. 
Tew, pull about ; weary. 
Teych, teach. 
T' gan, to go. N. 
Tha (thar), thou. 
Thack, thatch ; roof. 
Thae'v, they have. N. 
Thah (thar), thy. 
Thar-cake, heavy, unleaven sweet 

cake of oatmeal. C. 
Tharf-cake, same as above. H. 
The (ther), they. 
Theas, these ; this. 
Theer, there. 
Ther, their ; there. 
Ther's, there is. 

Thersens (see missen), themselves. 
They's, they are. N. 
Thi (like mi), thy ; thee. 
Thissen (see missen), thyself. 
Thof, though. C. 
Thoil, endure ; suffer ; afford. 
Thoo, thou. E.; N. 
Thoo'lt, thou wilt. E. ; C. ; N. 
Thoo's, thou art. E.; C.; N. 
Thowt (Yorkshire ow), thought. 
Thrang, Threng, busy. 
Threea, Threi, three. 
Threp, argue out of belief; assert 

strongly; contradict flatly. 
Threw, through. 
Thro (thru, short), from. 
Thruff, from. N. 
Thunner, thunder. 
Thwaite, opening, or pasture cleared 

of wood. 



Thyble (thighble), stick to stir 

Ti, to. E. 
Tide, a fair or feast ; while over ; 

get over ; go by. 

Tig, touch lightly; arrest attention. 
Til (till), to. 
Tiv (short i as in it), to. 
To (ter), to. 
To morn, to-morrow. 
Toon, town. E. 
Trael (traaerl), trail. 
Tred, pret. , trod. 
Trei, Treea, tree. 
Trew, Trieu, Triew, true. 
Trossle, bedraggle; trail raggedly. 
Tul (rhymes with full), to. 
Tuv (short ), to. 
Tummel (tumml), tumble ; fall. 
Twitch, a coarse grass. 
Twoa (tooer), two. 

UN (ern), one. 

Unhoil, disclose ; reveal ; unearth. 

Uphod, bring forward ; uphold. 

Untul, Untuv, unto. 

Uppa, upon. 

VARRY, very. 

Vast, a great deal. E. 

Yens, food ; viands. 

WACKKR, tremble violently. 

Wad, would. E., C., N. 

Wael (waaerl), wail. 

Waert, wait. 

Waest (waaerst), waste. 

Wags, Wax, Whacks, shares. 

Waint, will not. 

Wakken, awaken. 

Wakky-head, simpleton. 

Walsh, insipid ; saltless. 

Wammy, queasy ; feeling unwell or 

Wanklin, wobbling. 
Want, should ; ought. 
War, worse, severer ; was ; were. 
Wared, pret. wore ; expended. 
Wark, work ; ache ; pain. 
Walter, water. 
Waxin, growing. E. 
Wayer, way. 
Way ! well ! 
We', we are. 

Weam, belly ; stomach. E. 

Wean, Weean, child ; ween. 

Weant (weernt), will not. 

Weea, way. E., N. 

Weel, well. 

Weel off, wealthy. 

Weel-kenned, observant ; intelli- 
gent. N. 

Weet, wet. 

Wellin, welding. H. 

Welt, blow ; knock. 

Weng, fling. 

Wengy, tough. 

Wer, our. 

Wer, was ; were. H. 

Wersens (see missen), ourselves. 

Wescot, vest. 

Wesh, wash. 

Wessel-bobs, Christmas wassailers 
used to carry holly boughs so 

Wheel, grinding-shed formerly al- 
ways by a dam. H. 

Wheel-swarf, sweel of grindstone. 

WhemmPd ower, upset. N. 

Whilk, which. N. 

Whisin, cushion. 

Whisson, Whitsun. 

White-slat, white-splashed. C. 

Whittle-gairt, freedom of the table. 

Whoa, who 

Whol, while. 

Whot, oat. 

Wi (like mi), with; by; we. 

Wi aht, without. 

Wick, living ; green ; week. 

Wiggin, mountain ash. H. 

Wimin, meandering. H. 

Wimmin, women. 

Wissen, known. N. 

Wit, anything; the slightest; a 

Wi 't (wit, short), with it. 

Wi t' (as above), with the; wilt thou. 

Witter, worry over trifles ; dissipate 

Wiv, with. E. 

Wivoot, without. N. 

Wod, would. 

Wol, will. C. 

Wold (rhymes with dolld), a down ; 
weald ; forest. 

Wor, War (war), was ; were. 

Worf, insipid. 



Worsist, worst. 

Worsle up, become stronger or 

brighter. C. 
Wrassle, wrestle. 
Wreyth, wreathe. 
Wud, mad ; wild. N. 
Wur, was ; were. 
Wuther, bluster tempestuously. 

YA, you. N. 

Yabble, able. N. 

Yah (yar), yes. 

Yale, ale. 

Yam, home. E., N. 

Yan, one. 

Yance, once. 

Yar (Yorkshire long a), Yer, your. 

Yarsen (see missen), yourself. 

Yark, wrench. 

Yarmy, effeminate ; complaining, 

but not really unwell. 
Ya s', you shall. N. 
Yate, gate. 

Ye, Yei, Yi, you ; ye. 
Yed, head. 

Ye'd, you had or would. 
Yeearnin, yearning. 
Yeh (yer), yes. 
Yit, yet. 
Yo, you. H. 
Yo'd, you would. H. 
Yolla, yellow. 
Yo m', you must. H. 
Yope, yawn ; idle. 
Yore, your. H. 
Yourn, yours. H. 
Yo st, you shall. H. 
Yower, your. C. 
Yu, you. E. 


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The absolutely necessary companion volume to the 
Bronte Works. 

The Key to the Bronte Works. 

The Key to Charlotte Bronte's " Wuthering Heights," 

" Jane Eyre," and her other works, showing the method 

of their construction, and their relation to the facts and 

people of her life. 

With valuable Index, 4/6 per copy net, Cloth. 



"... Mr. Malham-Dembleby has packed his 'Key' full of curious 
facts. . . ." 


" Mr. Malham-Dembleby has prepared after what must have been 
an infinity of pains, ' The Key to the Bronte Works." By means of 
parallel passages that most convincing form of leading evidence the 
author reveals similarities in different works ['Jane Eyre' and 
' Wuthering Heights '], thus showing they are from the same pen. ..." 


" 'The Key to the Bronte Works' . . . ought to be read. Indeed it 
must be read . . . for Mr. Malham-Dembleby has much that is new and 
pertinent to say ... A passage or two can give no idea of the variety 
and wealth of his evidence. ..." 

The late W. T. Stead in the REVIEW OF 


"... the matter seems to have rested for about fifty years. . . . 
Mr. Malham-Dembleby now sets out in parallel columns passages from 
the two books ['Wuthering Heights' and 'Jane Eyre'] to show they are 
the work of one writer, and one is forced to admit that in many cases 
there is a startling similarity of diction, characterization, and incident. 
Bronte writers will, of course, resent Mr. Malham-Dembleby's dis- 
closures ; but should his conclusions eventually come to be accepted, 
some sixty years of writing on the Bronte's will at once be put quite out 
of date. ..." 



"Bronte readers wUl Avelcome John Malham-Dembleby's volume, 
'The Key 'to the Bronte 'Works.' ... It is a key that unlocks the 
doors of the inner chambers of the Brontes, revealing much that have 
been uuillumined pages. Currer Bell will be better known in the future 
than in the past, and to Mr. Malham-Dembleby's research will be due 
much of this widened knowledge of an outstanding figure in English 
literature of the first class. . . ." 

THE SPECTATOR. Special Article. 

"... The author has discovered a story by Eugene Sue in which he 
uses many of the incidents of 'Jane Eyre.' There seems reason to 
suppose that he was acquainted with M. Heger, and that his story 
reflects a good deal of what took place in Brussels. Sue's story . . . 
shows knowledge of the Heger family. ..." 

SUNDAY CHRONICLE." Special Article by William 

"... 'The Key to the Bronte Works' ... is as ingenious as the 
special pleading of a first-class counsel in a cause cettbre, as absorbing as 
the best of the Sherlock Holmes detective yarns. . . . Thus, sixty years 
afterwards, Charlotte Bronte's secret is out. ... In its defence of the 
Heger portrait of Charlotte Bronte in the National Portrait Gallery, 
and the romance surrounding it, and in its presentation of what ... is 
one of the greatest stories of tragedy and virtue in our literary annals, 
the book bears the impress of ... painstaking and intelligent research, 
and an overwhelming sincerity. . . ." 

THE TIMES. Special Article. 


"... The first discovery is that a forgotten novel by Eugene Sue, 
and published in 1850, is founded on Charlotte's relations with M. 
Heger. The identification is indisputable. . . . The second discovery 
is of greater interest . . . Mr. Malham-Dembleby has found . . . the 
pit whence was dug much . . . that . . . helped to build both 'Jane 
Eyre' and 'Wuthering Heights.' . . . Far be it from us to assert that 
Emily wrote ' Wuthenng Heights.' ..." 

YORKSHIRE POST. Special Article. 

"... Mr. Malham-Dembleby has made a real contribution . . . 
the discoveries are very remarkable. . . . Such . . . literary work is 
refreshing in these days of slipshod book-making. ..." 


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