But no sense ov a place, some think, Is this here hill so high,-- 'Cos there, full oft, 'tis nation coad, But that don't argufy.
As sum'dy, 'haps, when nigh the sput, May ha' a wish to see 't,-- From Mauldon toun to Keldon 'tis, An' 'gin a four-releet.
At Cock-a Bevis Hill, too, the Wiseacres show a tree Which if you clamber up, besure, A precious way yow see.
I dorn't think I cud clime it now, Aldoe I uster cud; I shudn't warsley loike to troy, For gulch cum down I shud.
My head 'ood swim,--I 'oodn't do't Nut even fur a guinea; A naarbour ax'd me, t'other day; "Naa, naa," says I, "nut quinny."
Notes.--_Sput_, spot; _toddlers_, walkers; _ollis_, always; _haut_, halt; _wiew_, view. _Crake_, boast; _leas(t)ways_, at least; _sarteny_, certainly; _monsus_, monstrous, very long.
_No sense ov a_, poor, bad; _coad_, cold; _argufy_, prove (anything).
_Sum'dy_, somebody; _from M._, between Maldon and Kelvedon; _'gin_, against, near; _four-releet_ (originally _four-e leet_, lit. "ways of four," _four-e_ being the genitive plural, hence) meeting of four roads.
_Dorn't_, don't; _aldoe_, although; _uster cud_ (for _us'd to could_), used to be able; _warsley_, vastly, much; _loike_, like; _gulch_, heavily, with a bang.
_'Ood_, would; _nut_, not; _ax'd_, asked; _naa_, no; _nut quinny_, not quite, not at all.
EASTERN (Group 3): NORFOLK.
The following extract from "A Norfolk Dialogue" is from a work entitled _Erratics by a Sailor_, printed anonymously at London in 1800, and written by the Rev. Joshua Larwood, rector of Swanton Morley, near East Dereham. Most of the words are quite familiar to me, as I was curate of East Dereham in 1861-2, and heard the dialect daily. The whole dialogue was reprinted in _Nine Specimens of English Dialects_; E.D.S., 1895.
The Dialogue was accompanied by "a translation," as here reprinted. It renders a glossary needless.
Original Vulgar Norfolk.
_Narbor Rabbin and Narbor Tibby._
Translation.
_Neighbour Robin and Neighbour Stephen._
_R._ Tibby, d'ye know how the knacker's mawther Nutty du?
_R._ Stephen, do you know how the collar-maker's daughter Ursula is?
_T._ Why, i' facks, Rabbin, she's nation cothy; by Goms, she is so snasty that I think she is will-led.
_S._ Why, in fact, Robin, she is extremely sick; by (_obsolete_), she is so snarlish, that I think she's out of her mind.
_R._ She's a fate mawther, but ollas in dibles wi' the knacker and thackster; she is ollas a-ating o' thapes and dodmans. The fogger sa, she ha the black sap; but the grosher sa, she have an ill dent.
_R._ She's a clever girl, but always in troubles with the collar-maker and thatcher; she is always eating gooseberries and snails. The man at the chandler's shop says she has a consumption: but the grocer says she's out of her senses.
_T._ Why, ah! tother da she fared stounded: she pluck'd the pur from the back-stock, and copped it agin the balk of the douw-pollar, and barnt it; and then she hulled [it] at the thackster, and hart his weeson, and huckle-bone. There was northing but cadders in the douw-pollar, and no douws: and so, arter she had barnt the balk, and the door-stall, and the plancher, she run into the par-yard, thru the pytle, and then swounded behinn'd a sight o' gotches o' beergood.
_S._ Why, aye! the other day she appeared struck mad: she snatched the poker from the back of the stove, and flung it against the beam of the pigeon-house, and burnt it; and then she throwed it at the thatcher, and hurt his throat and hip-bone.
There were no pigeons in the pigeon-house, and nothing but jack-daws; and so, after she had burned the beam, and the door-frame and the floor, she ran into the cowyard, through the small field, and fainted behind several pitchers of yeast.
_R._ Ah, the shummaker told me o' that rum rig; and his nevvey sa, that the beer-good was fystey; and that Nutty was so swelter'd, that she ha got a pain in spade-bones. The bladethacker wou'd ha gin har some doctor's gear in a beaker; but he sa she'll niver moize agin.
_R._ Aye, the shoemaker told me of that comical trick; and his nephew says, that the yeast was musty; and that Ursula [was so]
smothered, that she has got a pain in her bones. The thatcher would have given her some doctor's medicine in a tumbler; but he says, she will never recover.
Notes.--Pronounce _du_ like E. _dew_. _Snasty_, pron. _snaisty_, cross. _Fate, fait_ (cf. E. _feat_), suitable, clever.
_Mawther_, a young girl; Norw. _moder_. _Dibles_: the _i_ is long. _Sa_, says; _ha_, _have_, has; note the absence of final _s_ in the third person singular. _Cadder_, for _caddow_; from _caa-daw_, cawing daw. _Douw_, for _dow_, a dove. _Par_: for _parrock_, a paddock. _Fystey_: with long _y_, from _foist_, a fusty smell. _Sweltered_, over-heated, in profuse perspiration.
_Moize_, thrive, mend.
WESTERN (Group 1): S.W. SHROPSHIRE.
The following specimen is given in Miss Jackson's _Shropshire Word- book_, London, 1879, p. xciv. It describes how Betty Andrews, of Pulverbatch, rescued her little son, who had fallen into the brook.
I 'eard a scrike, ma'am, an' I run, an' theer I sid Frank 'ad pecked i' the bruck an' douked under an' wuz drowndin', an' I jumped after 'im an' got 'out on 'im an' lugged 'im on to the bonk all sludge, an' I got 'im wham afore our Sam comen in--a good job it wuz for Sam as 'e wunna theer an' as Frank wunna drownded, for if 'e 'ad bin I should 'a' tore our Sam all to winder-rags, an'
then 'e 'd a bin djed an' Frank drownded an' I should a bin 'anged. I toud Sam wen 'e t{)o}{)o}k the 'ouse as I didna like it.--"Bless the wench," 'e sed, "what'n'ee want? Theer's a tidy 'ouse an' a good garden an' a run for the pig." "Aye," I sed, "an'
a good bruck for the childern to peck in;" so if Frank 'ad bin drownded I should a bin the djeth uv our Sam. I wuz that frittened, ma'am, that I didna spake for a nour after I got wham, an' Sam sed as 'e 'adna sid me quiet so lung sence we wun married, an' that wuz eighteen 'ear.
Notes.--Miss Jackson adds the pronunciation, in glossic notation. There is no sound of initial _h_. _Scrike_, shriek; _sid_, seed, i.e. saw; _pecked_, pitched, fallen headlong; _bruck_, brook; _douked_, ducked; _'out_, hold; _bonk_, bank; _wham_, home; _wunna_, was not; _winder-rags_, shreds; _djed_, dead; _toud_, told; _what'n'ee_, what do you; _a nour_, an hour; _sid_, seen; _lung_, long; _wun_, were.
SOUTHERN (Group 2): WILTSHIRE.
The following well-known Wiltshire fable is from _Wiltshire Tales_, by J. Yonge Akerman (1853). I give it as it stands in the Preface to Halliwell's Dictionary; omitting the "Moral."
The Harnet and the Bittle.
A harnet zet in a hollur tree-- A proper spiteful twoad was he; And a merrily zung while he did zet His stinge as shearp as a bagganet; Oh, who so vine and bowld as I?
I vears not bee, nor wapse, nor vly!
A bittle up thuck tree did clim, And scarnvully did look at him; Zays he, "Zur harnet, who giv thee A right to zet in thuck there tree?
Vor ael you zengs so nation vine, I tell 'e 'tis a house o' mine!"
The harnet's conscience velt a twinge, But grawin' bowld wi' his long stinge, Zays he, "Possession's the best laaw; Zo here th' sha'sn't put a claaw!
Be off, and leave the tree to me, The mixen's good enough for thee!"
Just then a yuckel, passin' by, Was axed by them the cause to try; "Ha! ha! I zee how 'tis!" zays he, "They'll make a vamous munch vor me!"
His bill was shearp, his stomach lear, Zo up a snapped the caddlin' pair!
Notes.--Observe _z_ and _v_ for initial _s_ and _f_; _harnet_, hornet; _bittle_, beetle; _zet_, sat; _proper_, very; _twoad_, toad, wretch; _a_, he; _stinge_, sting; _bagganet_, bayonet.
_Thuck_, that; _clim_, climb; _giv_, gave; _zet_, sit; _ael_, all.
_Th' sha'sn't_, thou shalt not; _mixen_, dung-heap.
_Yuckel_, woodpecker; _axed_, asked; _vamous munch_, excellent meal; _lear_, empty; _caddlin'_, quarrelsome.
SOUTHERN (Group 3): ISLE OF WIGHT.