Part 5 (1/2)

To gain o' thee a yal(2) day's march I straave; bud thoo's sae varra arch.

For all I still straave faster, Thoo's tripp'd my heels an' meade me stop, By some slain corn, or failin' crop, Or ivery foul disaster.

If I my maand may freely speak, I really dunnot like thy leak, Whativer shap thoo's slipp'd on; Thoo's awd an' ugly, deeaf an' blinnd, A fiend afoore, a freight behinnd, An' foul as Mother s.h.i.+pton.

Folks say, an' it is nowt bud truth, Thoo has been wi' me frae my youth, An' gien me monny a thumper; Bud noo thoo cooms wi' all thy weight, Fast fallin' frae a fearful height, A doonreet Milton plumper.

Sud plenty frae her copious horn, Teem(1) oot to me good crops o' corn, An' prosper weel my cattle, An' send a single thoosand pund, 'T wad bring all things completely roond, An' I wad gie thee battle.

Noo, Poverty, ya thing I beg, Like a poor man withoot a leg, Sea, prethee, don't deceive me; I knaw it's i' thy power to grant The laatle favour at I want At thoo wad gang an' leave me.

1. Child. 2. Whole.

The Collingham Ghost

Anonymous

I'll tell ye aboot the Collingham ghost, An' a rare awd ghost was he; For he could laugh, an' he could talk, An' run, an' jump, an' flee.

He went aboot hither an' thither, An' freeten'd some out o' their wits, He freeten'd the parson as weel as the clerk, An' lots beside them into fits.

The poor awd man wha teak the toll At Collingham bar for monny a year, He dursn't coom out to oppen his yat(2) For fear the ghost sud be near.

He teak to his bed an' there he laid, For monny a neet an' day; His yat was awlus wide oppen thrown, An' nean iver stopp'd to pay.

Awd Jerry wha kept the public hoose, An' sell'd good yal to all, Curs'd the ghost wi' hearty good will, For neabody stopp'd to call.

It made sike a noise all roond aboot, That folks com far to see; Some said it was a dreadful thing, An' sum said 't was a lee.

Gamkeepers com wi' dogs an' guns, Thinkin' 't was some comical beast; An' they wad eyther kill him or catch him, Or drive him awa at least.

Sea into Lady wood right they went Ya beautiful meenleet neet; A lot o' great men an' a lot o' rough dogs, Enew(3) a poor ghost to eat.

They waited lang, the ghost didn't come, They began to laugh an' rail, ”If he coom oat of his den,” says yan, ”We'll clap a bit o' saut of his tail.”

”Nay, he knows better than turn oot, When we are here to watch him, He'd git a bullet through his lug, Or Mungo there wad catch him.”

When close to their heads wi' a terrible clatter The ghost went whirrin' up, An' owerr the woods he laughed an' shouted, ”Bobo, bobo! who whoop, who whoop!”

The gamkeepers all tummled doon, Their hair thrast off their hat, They gaped an' grean'd(4) an' roll'd aboot, An' their hearts went pit-a-pat.

Their feaces were white as onny clout, An' they said niver a word, T'hey couldn't tell what the ghost was like, Whether 'twas a beast or a bird.

They stay'd nea langer i' t' wood that neet, Poor men were niver dafter, They ran awa hame as fast as they could, An' their dogs ran yelping after.

The parson then, a larned man, Said he wad conjure the ghost; He was sure it was nea wandrin' beast, But a spirit that was lost.

All languages this parson knew That onny man can chat in, The Ebrew, Greek, an' Irish too, As weel as Dutch an' Latin.