Awa wi' Âll yer tales o' grief,
An dismal storry writin;
A mÂ-be zumthin I m zing
Ool be as much delightin.
Zumtime agoo, bevaur tha moors
War tin'd in, lived at Mork
One JERRY NUTTY—spry a war;
A upp'd avaur the lork.
Iz vather in a little cot
Liv'd, auver-right tha moor,
An thaw a kipt a vlock o' geese,
A war a thoughted poor.
A niver teach'd tha cris-cross-lain
Ta any of his bways,
An Jerry, mangst the rest o'm, did
Not much appruv his ways.
Vor Jerry zumtimes went ta church
Ta hire tha PÂson preach,
An thawt what pity that ta read
Izzel a cood'n teach.
Vor than, a zunday Âternoon,
Tha Bible, or good book
Would be companion vit vor'm Âll
Who choos'd therein ta look.
Bit Jerry than tha naise o' geese
Bit little moor could hire;
An dÂly goose-aggs ta pick up
Droo-out tha moor did tire.
A Ôten look'd upon tha hills
An stickle mountains roun,
An wished izzel upon their taps:
What zights a ood be bÓun!
Bit what did mooÄst iz fancy strick
War Glassenberry Torr:
A Âlways zeed it when tha zun
Gleam'd wi' tha mornin stor.
O' Well's grate church a Ôten hired,
Iz fancy war awake;
An zaw a thawt that zoon a ood
A journey ta it make.
An Glassenberry's Torr, an Thorn
The hawly blowth of which
A hired from one and tother too;
Tha like war never jitch!
Bit moor o' this I need not zÂ,
Vor off went Jerry Nutty,
In hiz right hon a wÂkin stick,
An in hiz qut a tutty.
Now, lock-y-zee! in whimly dress
Trudg'd chearful Jerry on;
Bit on tha moor not vur a went—
A made a zudden ston.
Which w ta goo a cood not thenk,
Vor there war many a wÂ;
A put upright iz walking stick;
A vÂll'd ta tha zon o' dÂ.
Ta tha suthard than iz w a took
Athert tha turfy moors,
An zoon o' blissom Cuzziton,
[Footnote: Cossington.]
A pass'd tha cottage doors.
Tha maidens o' tha cottages,
Not us'd strange vawk to zee,
Com'd vooÄth and stood avaur tha door;
Jer wonder'd what cood be.
Zum smil'd, zum whecker'd, zum o'm blish'd.
"Od dang it!" Jerry zed,
"What do tha think that I be like?"
An nodded to 'm iz head.
"Which is tha w to Glassenberry?
I've hired tha hawly thorn
War zet there by zum hawly hons
Zoon Âter Christ war born;
An I've a mine ta zee it too,
An o' tha blowth ta take."
"An how can you, a seely man,
Jitch seely journey make?
"What! dwont ye knaw that now about
It is the midst o' June?
Tha hawly thorn at Kirsmas blaws—
You be zix months too zoon.
Goo whim again, yea gÂwky! goo!"
Zaw zed a damsel vair
As dewy mornin late in MÂ;
An Jerry wide did stare.
"Lord Miss!" zed he, "I niver thawt,
O' Kirsmas!—while I've shoes,
To goo back now I be zet out,
Is what I sholl not choose.
I'll zee the Torr an hawly thorn,
An Glassenberry too;
An, nif you'll put me in tha wÂ,
I'll gee grate thanks ta you."
Goo droo thic veel an up thic lane,
An take tha lift hon path,
Than droo Miss Crossman's backzid strait,
Ool bring ye up ta Wrath.
Now mine, whaur you do turn again
At varmer Veal's long yacker,
ClooÄse whaur Jan Lide, tha cobler, lives
Who makes tha best o' tacker;
You mist turn short behine tha house
An goo right droo tha shord,
An than you'll pass a zummer lodge,
A builded by tha lord.
Tha turnpick than is jist belaw,
An Cock-hill strait avaur ye."
Za Jerry doff'd his hat an bow'd,
An thank'd er vor er storry.
Bit moor o' this I need not zÂ,
Vor off went Jerry Nutty;
In his right hand a wÂkin stick,
An in hiz qut a tutty.
Bit I vorgot to z that Jer
A zatchel wi' en took
To hauld zum bird an cheese ta ate;—
Iz drink war o' tha brook.
Za when a got upon Cock-hill
Upon a linch a zawt;
The zun had climmer'd up tha sky;
A voun it very hot.
An, as iz stomick war za good,
A made a horty meal;
An werry war wi' wÂkin, zaw
A sleepid zoon did veel.
That blessed power o' bÂmy sleep,
Which auver ivery sense
Da wi' wild whiverin whings extend
A happy influence;
Now auver Jerry Nutty drow'd
Er lissom mantle wide;
An down a drapp'd in zweetest zleep,
Iz zatchel by iz zide.
Not all tha nasty stouts could wÂke
En vrom iz happy zleep,
Nor emmets thick, nor vlies that buz,
An on iz hons da creep.
Naw dreams a had; or nif a had
MooÄst pleasant dreams war thÂ:
O' geese an goose-aggs, ducks and jitch;
Or Mally, vur awÂ,
Zum gennelmen war dreavin by
In a gilded cawch za gÂ;
Th zeed en lyin down asleep;
Th bid the cawchman stÂ.
Th bÂll'd th hoop'd—a niver wÂk'd;
Naw houzen there war handy;
Zed one o'm, "Nif you like, my bways,
"We'll ha a little randy!"
"Jist put en zÂtly in tha cawch
An dreav en ta BejwÂter;
An as we Âll can't g'in wi'n here,
I'll come mysel zoon Âter."
Twar done at once: vor norn o'm car'd
A str vor wine or weather;
Than gently rawl'd the cawch along,
As zÂt as any veather.
Bit Jerry snaur'd za loud, tha naise
Tha gennelmen did gally;
ThÂ'd hÂf a mind ta turn en out;
A war dreamin o' his Mally!
It war the morkit d as rawl'd
Tha cawch athin BejwÂter;
Th drauv tip ta the Crown-Inn door,
Ther MÂ-game man com'd Âter.
"Here Maester WÂter! Lock-y-zee!
A-mÂ-be you mid thenk
Thic mon a snauren in tha cawch
Is auvercome wi' drenk.
Bit 'tis not not jitchy theng we knaw;
A is a cunjerin mon,
Vor on Cock-hill we vound en ly'd
Iz stick stif in his hon.
Iz vace war cover'd thick wi' vlies
An bloody stouts a plenty;
Nif he'd o pumple voot bezide,
An a brumstick vor'n to zit ascride,
O' wizards a mid be thawt tha pride,
Amangst a kit o' twenty."
"Lord zur! an why d'ye bring en here
To gally Âll tha people?
Why zuggers! nif we frunt en than,
He'll auver-dro tha steeple.
I bag ye, zur, to take en vooÄth;
There! how iz teeth da chatter;
Lawk zur! vor Christ—look there again!
A'll witchify BejwÂter!"
Tha gennelman stood by an smiled
To zee tha bussle risin:
Yor zoon, droo-out tha morkit wide
Tha news wor gwon saprisin.
An round about tha cawch th dring'd—
Tha countryman and townsman;
An young an awld, an man an maid—
Wi' now an tan, an here an there,
Amang tha crowd to gape an stare,
A doctor and a gownsman.
Jitch naise an bother wÂkid zoon
Poor hormless Jerry Nutty,
A look'd astunn'd;—a cood'n speak!
An daver'd war iz tutty.
A niver in his life avaur
'ad been athin BejwÂter;
A thawt, an if a war alive,
That zummet war tha matter.
Tha houzen cling'd together zaw!
Tha gennelmen an ladies!
Tha blacksmith's, brazier's hammers too!
An smauk whauriver trade is.
Bit how a com'd athin a cawch
A war amaz'd at thenkin;
A thawt, vor sartin, a must be
A auvercome wi' drenkin.
Th ax'd en nif a'd please to g'out
An ta tha yalhouse g'in;
Bit th zo clooÄse about en dring'd
A cood'n goo athin.
Ta g'under 'em or g'auver 'em
A try'd booÂth grate and smÂll;
Bit g'under, g'auver, g'in, or g'out,
A cood'n than at Âll.
"Lord bless ye! gennel-vawk!" zed he,
I'm come to Glassenberry
To zee tha Torr an Hawly Thorn;
What makes ye look za merry?"
"Why mister wizard? dwont ye knaw,
TheÄse town is cÂll'd BejwÂter!"
Cried out a whipper-snapper man:
Th all bust out in lÂughter.
"I be'nt a wizard, zur!" a zed;
"Bit I'm a little titch'd; [Footnote: Touched.]
"Or, witherwise, you mid well thenk
I'm, zure anow, bewitch'd!"
Thaw Jerry war, vor Âll tha wordle,
Like very zel o' quiet,
A veel'd iz blood ta bwile athin
At jitchy zort o' riot;
Za out a jump'd amangst 'em Âll!
A made a desperd bussle;
Zum hirn'd aw—zum made a ston;
Wi' zum a had a tussle.
Iz stick now sar'd 'em justice good;
It war a tough groun ash;
Upon ther heads a plÂ'd awÂ,
An round about did drash.
Th belg'd, th raur'd, th scamper'd Âll.
A zoon voun rum ta stoory;
A thawt a'd be reveng'd at once,
Athout a judge or jury.
An, thaw a brawk navy-body's bwons,
A gid zum bloody nawzes;
Tha pirty maids war fainty too;
Hirn'd vrom ther cheaks tha rawzes.
Thinks he, me gennelmen! when nex
I goo to Glassenbery,
Yea shant ha jitch a rig wi' I,
Nor at my cost be merry.
Zaw, havin clear'd izzel a wÂ.
Right whim went Jerry Nutty;
A flourished roun iz wÂkin stick;
An vleng'd aw iz tutty.