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Folk-Speech of Cumberland and Some Districts Adjacent / Being Short Stories and Rhymes in the Dialects of the West Border Counties cover

Folk-Speech of Cumberland and Some Districts Adjacent / Being Short Stories and Rhymes in the Dialects of the West Border Counties

Chapter 15: SANNTER, BELLA!
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About This Book

A collection of short stories and rhymes rendered in the vernacular of the West Border counties, chiefly the old Norse–rooted Cumbrian dialect with additional pieces in neighboring varieties. The pieces range from comic rural anecdotes and folk tales to pastoral reminiscences and printed versions of local speech, preserving pronunciation, idiom, and regional humour. The volume pairs narrative and lyrical items with explanatory remarks and a glossary to assist readers in understanding dialect terms, offering a varied snapshot of local customs, landscape incidents, and conversational mannerisms from Cumberland, Furness, and adjacent districts.

SANNTER, BELLA!

Sannter, Bella!—Bliss the’, sannter,
Th’u’ll be seun aneuf at heàm;
Gā’n frae t’ chūrch at sec a cannter,
Fwoke ’ll sweer th’u’s thinkin’ shām’—
Shām’ ’at I sud woak aside the’!
Does t’e, Bella, shām’ o’ me?
Whey than, bide the’, dar it, bide the’!—
Few’s sa leet o’ t’ feut as thee.
Si’s t’e, Bella, nay but, si’s t’e,
Hoo th’u’s makin’ t’ ne’bours laugh;
Th’u’s a taistrel fair ’at is t’e,
But I like thee weel——Hŭt, shaff!—
Whoa can tell his stwory rūnnin?—
Whoa can coort an’ win a reàce?—
If th’u’s flay’t I’s foase, or fūnnin’,
Stop, an’ leuk me fair i’ t’ feàce!
Leuk, an’ see if I wad cheat the’—
Leuk, I tell the’, glimes wont dee!
Whativer wrang’t the’, I wad reet the’,
Whoa-iver fails the’, trust i’ me.
Wait! Nay, tak’ mair time, I pray the’—
Shūttin’ frae yan like a dart—
Nowte for nowte I’s axin’ frae the’—
Nowte for nowte, but heart for heart.
Sannter, than! Nay, Bella, sannter!
I’ll nūt say ya wūrd ’at’s wrang,
But th’u’s a wannter!—I’s a wannter!
An’ nowder sud be wannters lang.
Thoo kens what sec a heàm I’ve gitten—
Ken’s o’ ’s reet, an’ straight, an’ square—
Ken’s o’ wad fit the’ like a mitten;
What the hangment wad t’e mair?
Sannter! sannter!! sannter, Bella!!!
Gi’ me time to tell my teàl;
’Tis n’t kind to mak’ a fellow
T’ laughin-stock of hoaf o’ t’ deàl.
Does t’e think o’ ’s nūt fairation?
Hes t’e any foat to finnd?
Nay! Whey than, ther’s nèa ’casion—
Hŭh—By jing, I’s oot o’ wind!
’Beàt thy speed! Dar sonn, I’ll ho’d the’!
Ho’d the’ till I’ve said my say—
Till my heart’s ya wish I’ve shew’d the’,
Gittin’ back for ’t ey or nay.
Wil’t’e than, say, wil’t’e wed me?
Ah! Thou wadn’t still say—no!
Faith! a bonnie dance th’u’s led me,
But that lāl squeeze mak’s up for o’!—
T’ squeeze frae thy smo’ fing-ers, Bella!
Trimlin’ here i’ my rough hand;
It’s queer a touch sa leet can tell a
Teàl sa plain to understand;
It’s queerer thoo sūd be sa freeten’t,—
Flay’t when nowte at o’ ’s amiss.
Loavin! How thy feàce has breeten’t,
Reedenin’ up at t’ furst fair kiss.