Traditional

'T Were a dree(2) neet, a dree neet,
as t' squire's end drew nigh,
A dree neet, a dree neet,
to watch, an pray, an' sigh.

When t' streeam runs dry, an' t' deead leaves fall,
an' t' ripe ear bends its heead,
An' t' blood wi' lithin'(3), seems fair clogg'd,
yan kens yan's neam'd wi' t' deead.

When t' een grows dim, an' folk draw nigh
frae t' other saade o' t' grave,
It's late to square up awd accoonts
a gannin' sowl to save.

T' priest may coom, an' t' priest may gan,
his weel-worn tale to chant,
When t' deeath-smear clems a wrinkled broo,
sike disn't fet yan's want.(4)

Nea book, nea can'le, bell, nor mass,
nea priest iv onny lan',
When t' dree neet cooms, can patch a sowl,
or t' totterin' mak to stan'.

. . . . .

'T were a dree neet, a dree neet,
for a sowl to gan away,
A dree neet, a dree neet,
bud a gannin' sowl can't stay.

An' t' winner shuts(5) they rattled sair,
an' t' mad wild wind did shill,
An' t' Gabriel ratchets(6) yelp'd aboon,
a gannin' sowl to chill.

'T were a dree neet, a dree neet,
for deeath to don his cowl,
To staup(7) abroad wi' whimly(8) treead,
to claim a gannin' sowl.

Bud laal(9) deeath recks hoo dree t' neet be,
or hoo a sowl may pray,
When t' sand runs oot, his sickle reaps;
a gannin' sowl can't stay.

'T were a dree neet, a dree neet,
ower Whinny-moor to trake,(10)
Wi' shoonless feet, ower flinty steanes,
thruf monny a thorny brake.

A dree neet, a dree neet,
wi' nowt neaways to mark
T' gainest trod(11) to t' Brig o' Deead;
a lane lost sowl i' t' dark.

A dree neet, a dree neet,
at t' brig foot theer to meet
Laal sowls at(12) he were t' father on,
wi' nea good-deame i' seet.

At t' altar steps he niver steead,
thof monny a voo he made,
Noo t' debt he awes to monny a lass
at t' brig foot mun be paid.

They face him noo wiv other deeds,
like black spots on a sheet,
They noo unscape,(13) they egg him on,
on t' brig his doom to meet.

Nea doves has sattled on his sill,
bud a flittermoose(14) that neet
Cam thrice taames thruf his casement,
an' flacker'd roond his feet.

An' thrice taames did a raven croak,
an' t' seame-like thrice cam t' hoot
Frae t' ullets' tree; doon chimleys three
there cam a shrood o' soot.

An' roond t' can'le twea taames there cam
a dark-wing'd moth to t' leet,
Bud t' thod(15), it swirl'd reet into t' fleame,
wheer gans his sowl this neet.

'T were a dree neet, a dree neet,
for yan to late(16) to pray,
A dree neet, a dree neet,
bud a gannin' sowl can't stay.

. . . . .

1, From R. Blakeborough's "Old Songs of the Dales," appended
to his T' Hunt o' Yatton Brigg, p. 37, second edition.
2. Gloomy. 3. Thickening.
4. The literal meaning of this line is, When the death-salve bedaubs
a wrinkled brow, rites such as these do not fetch (i.e. supply)
one's want. The reference is to extreme unction.
5. Window shutters. 6. The hounds of death. 7. Stalk. 8. Stealthy.
9. Little. 10. Wander. 11. Shortest path. 12. That.
13. Stir up memories. 14. Bat. 15. Third. 16. Attempt.