There’s nūt mickle on her,—we ken ’at gud stuff Laps up i’ lal bundles, an’ she’s lal aneuf; There’s nowte aboot Dinah were better away But her comical[2] ower-wūrd “M’appen I may.” “M’appen I may,” it’s still, “m’appen I may.” Whativer yan wants yan gits “m’appen I may!” An’ it shaps to be smittal; whoariver I gang, I can’t tell a stwory—I can’t sing a sang— I can’t hod a crack, nay!—I can’t read nor pray Widout bringin’ in her dang’t “M’appen I may.” “M’appen I may,” it cūms, “m’appen I may;” Asteed of Amen, I say “m’appen I may.” But she met me ya neeght aside Pards’aw Lea yatt— I tock her seàf heàm, but I keep’t her oot leàt, An’ offen I said i’ my oan canny way, “Will t’é like me a lal bit?”—“Whey,—M’appen I may! M’appen I may, Harry—m’appen I may; Thou’s rayder a hoaf-thick, but m’appen I may!” I prist her to wed mé—I said I was pooar, But eddlin aneuf to keep hung-er frayt’ dooar. She leuk’t i’ my feàce, an’ than, hoaf turn’t away, She hung doon her heid an’ said “M’appen I may! M’appen I may”—(low doon)—“m’appen I may, I think thou means fairly, an’ m’appen I may.” We’re hingin’ i’ t’ bell reàps[3]—to t’ parson I’ve toak’t, An’ I gev him a hint as he maffelt an’ jwoak’t, To mind when she sud say “love, honour, OBEY,” ’At she doesn’t slip through wid her “M’appen I may.” M’appen I may, may be—m’appen I may, But we moont put up than wid a “m’appen I may.” FOOTNOTES: [2] Comical, used thus, means _Pert_, in central Cumberland. [3] During the period required for the publication of banns, a couple are said, figuratively, to be “hinging in t’ bell ropes.” JWOHNNY, GIT OOT! “Git oot wid the’, Jwohnny, thou’s no’but a fash; Thou’ll come till thou raises a desperat clash;[4] Thou’s here ivery day just to put yan aboot, An’ thou moiders yan terrably—Jwohnny, git oot! What says t’e? I’s bonnie? Whey! That’s nowte ’at’s new. Thou’s wantin’ a sweetheart?—Thou’s hed a gay few! An’ thou’s cheatit them, yan efter t’ t’udder, nèa doubt; But I’s nūt to be cheatit sèa—Jwohnny, git oot! There’s plenty o’ lads i’ beàth Lamplugh an’ Dean As yabble as thee, an’ as weel to be seen; An’ I med tak’ my pick amang o’ there aboot— Does t’é think I’d ha’e thee, than? Hut, Jwohnny, git oot! What? Nūt yan amang them ’at likes mé sa weel? Whey, min—there’s Dick Walker an’ Jonathan Peel Foorsettin’ mé ola’s i’ t’ lonnins aboot, Beàth wantin’ to sweetheart mé—Jwohnny, git oot! What?—Thou will hev a kiss?—Ah, but tak’t if thou dar! I tell the’, I’ll squeel, if thou tries to cŭ’ nār. Tak’ care o’ my collar—Thou byspel, I’ll shoot. Nay, thou sha’n’t hev anudder—Noo Jwhonny, git oot!