Part 13

"Why, t' lads their best shoon had put on, An' t' lasses donn'd all their best cwoats; I saw five pund of Scotch wether mutton Sell'd by Ward and Tish Tom for five grwoats. Rowlaway had fine cottons to sell, Butteroy lace an' handkerchers browt; Young Tom Cwoats had a stall tuv hissel, An' had ribbins for varra near nowt.

"Thar was Enos had good brandy-snaps, Bill Brown as good spice as could be; Potter Robin an' mair sike-like chaps Had t' bonniest pots te could see. John Ridley, an' awd Willy Walls, An' Naylor, an' twea or three mar, Had apples an' pears at their stalls, An' Gardener Joe tea was thar.

"Thar was scissors an' knives an' read(5) purses, An' plenty of awd cleathes on t' nogs,(6) An' twea or three awd spavin'd horses, An' plenty o' shoon an' new clogs. Thar was plenty o' good iron pans, An' pigs at wad fill all t' deale's hulls(7); Thar was baskets, an skeps, an' tin cans, An' bowls, an' wood thivles for gulls.(8)

"Thar was plenty of all maks(9) o' meat, An' plenty of all sworts o' drink, An' t' lasses gat monny a treat, For t' gruvers(10) war all full o' chink. I cowp'd(11) my black hat for a white un, Lile Jonas had varra cheap cleath; Jem Peacock an' Tom talk'd o' feightin', But Gudgeon Jem Puke lick'd 'em beath.

"Thar was dancin' an' feightin' for ever, Will Wade said at he was quite griev'd; An' Pedlety tell'd 'em he'd never Forgit 'em as lang as he leev'd. They knock'd yan another about, Just warse than a sham to be seen, Charlie Will look'd as white as a clout, Kit Puke gat a pair o' black een.

"I spied our awd lass in a newk, Drinkin' shrub wi' grim Freesteane, fond lad; I gav her a varra grow(12) leuk; O, connies,(13) but I was just mad. Sea I went to John Whaites's to drink, Whar I war'd(14) twea an' seempence i' gin; I knaw not what follow'd, but think I paddl'd through t' muck thick an' thin.

"For to-day, when I gat out o' bed, My cleathes were all sullied sea sar, Our Peggy and all our fwoak said To Reeth Fair I sud never gang mar. But it's rake-time,(15) sea I mun away, For my partners are all gain' to wark." Sea I lowp'd up an bade him good day, An' wrowt at t' Awd Gang(16) tell 't was dark."

1. The fair held at Reeth in Swaledale on St. Bartholomew's Day, August 24. 2. Shirt. 3. Sit. 4. "Sex needles" is literally the interval of time during which a knitter would work the loops off six needles. 5. Red. 6. Pegs. 7. Sties. 8. Sticks for stirring hasty puddings. 9. Sorts. 10. Miners. 11. Bartered. 12. Ugly. 13. Mates. 14. Spent. 15. Time for the next shift. 16. A lead mine

The Christmas Party (1876)

Tom Twistleton

When cowd December's sturdy breeze In chimley-tops did grumble, Or, tearing throug'h the leafless trees, On lang dark neets did rumble, A lot o' young folks, smart an' gay, An' owds uns, free an' hearty, Agreed amang thersels at they Would have a Christmas party At hame some neet

They kicked up sich a fuss an' spreead, An' made sich preparations; They baked grand tarts an' mixed their breead Wi' spices frae all nations. To drive away baith want an' cowd It seem'd their inclination; An' t' neebours round, baith young an' owd, All gat an invitation To gang that neet.

Smart sprigs o' spruce an' ivy green Were frae the ceiling hinging, An' in their midst, conspicuous seen, The mistletoe was swinging. The lamp shone forth as clear as day, An' nowt was there neglected; An' t' happy, smiling faces say, Some company is expected To coom this neet.

An' first com Moll wi' girt lang Jack, A strapping, good-like fella; An' following closely at their back Com Bob and Isabella. With "How's yoursel?" an' "How d'ye do?" They sit down i' their places, Till t' room sae big, all through an' through, Wi' happy smiling faces Was filled that neet.

A merrier lot than this I name Ne'er met at onny party; All girt grand balls they put to shame, They were sae gay an' hearty. Here yan had made hersel quite fine, Wi' lace an' braid's assistance; An' there a girt grand crinoline, To keep t' lads at a distance, Stood out that neet.

The lads draw up to t' fire their chairs, An' merrily pass their jokes off; The lasses all slip off upstairs, To pu' their hats an' cloaks off. Befoor a glass that hings at t' side They all tak up their station, An' think within theirsels wi' pride They'll cause a girt sensation 'Mang t' lads that neet.

An' now the lusty Christmas cheer Is browt out for t' occasion; To pies an' tarts, an' beef an' beer, They git an invitation. An' some, i' tune to put it by, Play havoc on each dainty, Whal some there is, sae varra shy, Scarce let theirsels have plenty To eat that neet.

Against the host o' good things there They wage an awful battle; They're crying out, "A lile bit mair!" An' plates an' glasses rattle. Here, yan's nae time a word to pass, Thrang(1) supping an' thrang biting; There, simpering sits a girt soft lass That waits for mich inviting An' fuss that neet.

An' when this good substantial fare Has gien 'em satisfaction, They side(2) all t' chairs, an' stand i' pairs, Wi' heels i' tune for action. See-sawing, t' fiddler now begins The best that he is able; He rosins t' stick an' screws up t' pins An' jumps up on to t' table, To play that neet.

There, back an' forrad, in an' out, His elbow it gaas silting,(3) An' to an' fro, an' round about, The dancers they are lilting. Some dance wi' ease i' splendid style, Wi' tightly-fitting togs on, Whal others bump about all t' while, Like drainers wit their clogs on, Sae numb'd that neet.

An' when they've reel'd an' danc'd their fling, Their chairs all round are ranged; They tell droll tales, they laugh, they sing, An' jokes are interchanged. A merry tune t' girt kettle sings, An' t' fire is blazing breetly ; Wi' cheerful din t' owd farmhouse rings, An' hours fly ower them sweetly An' swift that neet.

T' owd women preach an' talk about Their claes being owd an' rotten, An' still being forc'd to speck an' clout,(4) It's sich a price is cotton. T' owd men sit round, wi' pipe an' glass, In earnest conversation; On t' ways an' means o' saving brass, An' t' rules an' t' laws o' t' nation, They talk that neet.

Now girt lang Jack, that lives on t' moor, Wi' cunning an' wi' caution, Is beckoning Moll to gang to t' door Wi' sly mischievous motion. Moll taks the hint, nor thinks it wrang, Her heart that way inclining; She says to t' rest she thinks she'll gang To see if t' stars are shining Out clear that neet.

Then down a field they tak a walk, An' then they wend their way back; To have a bit o' pleasant talk They shelter under t' haystack. She did not say "For shame!" not she, Though oft-times Johnny kiss'd her; She said she just would run an' see If t' other folks had missed her Frae t' room that neet.

A chap that had two watchful een, Of which they waren't thinking, When peeping round that neet, had seen Long Jack at Molly winking. Says he, "Now's t' time to have a stir, Let's just gang out an' watch her; We's have some famous fun wi' her, If we can nobbut catch her Wi' him this neet.

Then two or three, bent on a spree, Out to the door gang thungein',(5) But hauf a yard they scarce could see, It was as dark as dungeon. Jack hears their footsteps coming slow, An' frae her side he slinks off; Runs round t' house-end, jumps ower a wa', An' up ower t' knee i' t' sink-trough He splash'd that neet.

Now, ye young men, be who ye may, That's bent on fun an' sportin', Whare'er ye be, by neet or day, Remember Jack's misfortin. Though things unlook'd for on ye creep, Don't do owt in a splutter; But learn to look befoor ye leap, Lest ye in some deep gutter Stick fast some neet.

1. Busily. 2. Clear away. 3. Rising up. 4. Mend and patch. 5. Thumping.