AN ECLOGUE By the Revd. Thomas Browne
GEOORGY AND ROBIN
Geo. Weel met, good Robin, seed ye my awd meer?
Ah've lated her an hoor i' t' looanin' here,
But hoosomivver, spite all my care,
Ah cannot spy her, nowther heead nor hair
Robin Whah, Geoorgy, Ah've te tell ye dowly news,
Sike as Ah's varra seer will mak ye muse :
Ah just this minute left your poor awd tike
Deead as a steean, i' Joonny Dobson's dyke.
Geoorgy. Whoor! what's that, Robin? Tell ower ageean,
You're joking - - - - or you've mebby been misteean.
Robin Neea marry, George, Ah's seen, Ah can't be wrang,
You knaw Ah've kenn'd awd Deeasy noo
Her breead ratch'd feeace, and tweea white hinder legs,
Preeav'd it was her, as seer as eggs is eggs.
Geo. Poor thing!what deead then? --- had she lig'd there lang?
Whoor abouts is she? Robin, will ye gang?
Robin Ah caren't Georgy, Ah haen't mitch te deea,
A good hour's labbour or may happen twea.
Bud as Ah nivver like to hing behinnd,
When Ah can help ye wi' my hand or teeam,
Ah'll help to skin her or bring her heeame.
Geo. Thenk ye, good Robin. --- Ah can't think belike,
Hoo't poor awd creature tummel'd into t' dyke.
Robin You mind she'd fun hersel just boun to dee,
An' seea laid doun by t' side, (as seeams to me,)
An' when she felt the pains of deeath within
She fick'd and struggl'd, an' seea towpled in.
Geo. Maist likely --- but --- what, was she deead outreight,
When first ye fand her; when ye gat t' first seight?
Robin You's hear. --- As Ah was gaun doon t' looan, Ah spy'd
A scoar or mair o' craws by t' gutter side.
All se thrang, hoppin' in an' hoppin' out,
Ah wonder'd what I' t' warld they war about.
Ah leeaks, an' then Ah sees an awd yode
Gasping an' panting sare an' ommost deead
An' just as they pick'd it een, an' pick'd ageean
It just cud lift it leg an' give a greean.
But when Ah fand awd Deeasy was tuck prey,
Ah wav'd my hat an' showed 'em all away.
Poor Deeas! You mind, she's noo worn fairly out;
She's lang been quite hard set te trail about
But yonder Geoorgy, too' ye whoor she's leead,
An' twea or three nanpies chattring ower her heead.
Hey, marry! This Ah nivver wish'd to see,
She's been se good --- se true a frynd to me.
An' is thou come to this, my poor awd meer?
Thoo's been a trusty sarvant monny a year;
An' better treatment thoo's desarv'd fra me
Then thus neglected in a dyke te dee,
Monny agood day - wark we've wrought togither,
An' bidden monny a blast o' wind and weather;
Monny a lang cree mahle, ower moss an' moor,
An' monny a hill an' deeale we've toddled
But noo, wae'st me! Thoo'll nivver trot ne mair,
Te nowther kirk nor market, spoort nor fair;
An' noo for t' future, thof Ah's awd an' leeame,
Ah sal be foorc'd te walk; or stay at heeame
Ne mair thoo'll bring me cooals fra Blakey Broo,
Or sticks frae t' wood, or turves frae Leaf-hoo Coo.
My poor awd Deeas! Afoore Ah dig thy greeave,
Thy weel worn shune Ah will for keepseeakes seeave;
Thy hide, poor lass! Ah'll hev it tann'd wi' care.
'Twill mak a cover to my awd airm chair;
An' pairt --- an appron for my wife to weare
When cardin' wool, or weshin' t' pairlour fleer.
Deep i' t' cawd eearth, Ah will thy carcass pleeace;
That thy poor beeans may lig an' rest in peeace;
Deep i' t' cawd eearth, 'at dogs mayn't scrat thee oot,
An' rahve thy flesh, an' trail thy beeans aboot,
Thoo's been se faithful, for se lang, to me,
Thoo sannot at thy deeath, neglected be.
Seldom a Christian, 'at yan noo can finnd,
Wad be mair trusty --- or mair true a frynd.
BETWEEN TWO YORKSHIRE FARMERS, On the present Indecent Mode of DRESS,
Adopted by fashionable Ladies.
Good morrow, Johnny, --- hoo deea ye deea?
If you're boon my road, A'll gang wi' ye:
Hoo cawd this moorning t' wind dus blaw,
Ah think we seen sal hae sum snaw.
Heigh, Simon, seea we sal, ere lang:
Ah's boon to t' toon, Ah wi' ye'd gang,
For ah've a dowghter leeatly deead,
Ah's boon to git hur coffin meeade.
Heigh! Johnny! Deead! Wah seer you're wrang,
Fur she wor wi' us e'er seea lang,
And oft wi' hur, i' yonder booer,
Ah've jooak'd an' laugh'd full monny an hour:
Bud first, good Johnny, tell me this,
What meeade hur dee? what's been amiss?
To tell thee Simon, noo Ah's boon,
Thoo sees Ah sent hur to yon toon
To t' Skeeal; and next to larn a trade,
By which she was to get hur breead:
Bud, when she furst cum'd back to me,
She had neea petticoats, you see:
At first Ah fan she'd bud hur smock,
And ower that hur tawdry frock;
Sike wark as this it rais'd my passion,
An' then she tell'd me, it was t' fashion.
Besides hur appron, efter all,
She'd quite misteean it for a shawl:
A sartain sign the sense did lack.
She'd teean an' thrawn it ower hur back;
Hur shoon had soles se varra thin,
They'd nowght keep out, but let wet in:
And round hur neck she lapp'd a ruff,
Of rabbit-skin or sum sike stuff,
Instead of wearing a good cloak,
Teea keep hur warm, when she did walk
Fra heeame to Market or to Fair,
Or yance a week to Church repair:
Besides, thoo sees, she hed neea stays,
And scarce eneeaf by hoaf of clais:
And hur white hat turn'd up befoore,
All meead hur leeak just like a Wh-re!
Wah, Johnny, stop, you're oot o' breath,
Bud hoo com she to git hur deeath?
Wah, Simon, stay, and thoo sal hear,
I' t' next pleeace, mon, breeasts wor bare,
Hur neeak'd airms, teea, she like'd to show,
E'en when t' cawd bitter wind did blaw:
And when Ah talk'd about it, then,
(You see Ah'se awlus by my sen,)
Hur mother awlus leean'd hur way,
It matter'd nowght what Ah'd to say:
Ah tell'd my wife hoo it wad be,
An' seea she can't lig t' bleeame o' me:
Says Ah, foore she's twice ten year awd,
She's seer to git hur deeath o' cawd.
For this mishap Ah bleeame that feeal,
For spoiling hur at Booarding-Skeeal:
Noo hed she meeade hur larn hur letters,
Insteead o' dressing like hur betters,
She nut so seean hae gitten cawd,
And mebby liv'd till she wor awd.
Ah'se seer it's all great fowks pursuit,
To hev, like Eve, a birth-day-suit.
Thoo's reeght, good Johnny reeght Ah say,
That Ah've obsarv'd afoore to-day:
And noo i' toon, as each yan passes
Yan can't tell Ladies fra bad Lasses:
And oft Ah've thowght, when t' cawd wind blaws,
They'd deea reeght weel to freeghten craws.
For it wad blaw 'em seea aboot,
They'd be neea 'cashion then to shoot:
Just seen as if that thee and me
An ugly, monstrous thing sud see,
Away we baath sud run reeght fast,
As land as ivver we could last.
Hey, Simon, seea we sud, Ah sweear;
Bud noo to t' toon we're drawing neear,
Thoo needn't tell what ah hev sed,
Aboot my dowghter being deead;
Good morrow, fare thee weel:-
Ah say! - noo mind thoo doesn't tell.
Neea, that ah weean't, whahl Ah hev breeath,
Ah'll nobbut say --- She's starv'd to deeath.
I leotly lov'd a lass right weell,
Was beautiful and witty,
Bud all I sed (an it was a deal,)
Could never raise her pity,
Or mak her love me
I tell'd her owre and owre again,
(Did monie reasons render,
Shy'd never fyn'd another swain,
Wad be se fond and tender,
If she'd bud love me.
I'd tent my sheep i' field or faud,
Wi' spirits light and cheary,
Thro' summer's heat, and winter's caud,
If she wad be my deary,
An say she'd love me.
I's nobbut a poor shepherd lad,
My hands aleean mainteean me.
Waes me! weel may I be se sad,
That maks the lass disdeean me,
'At winnot love me.
I thought at first, i' my dispair,
I'd gang and get me listed,
And bravely meet my death i' war,
Becauce the lass insisted
She wad not love me
Bud now I've teean another mind,
I'll try to quite forget her;
Another lass may be mair kind,
I'se like as weel or better,
An' she may love me.
Transcribed by Graham Metcalf ©2005