Oor young days may’d be wastet days, but dār their mem’ry’s dear! And what wad yan not part wid noo ageàn to hev them here? Whativer trubles fash’t us than, though nayder leet nor few, They niver fash’t us hafe so lang as less an’s fash us noo; If want o’ thowte brong bodderment, it pass’t for want o’ luck, An’ what cared we for Fortun’s bats, hooiver feurce she struck? It mud be t’ time o’ life ’at meàd oor happiness complete I’ Billy Watson’ lonnin’ of a lownd summer neeght! LONE AND WEARY. Deid winter’s nūt sa dark to me As t’ lang leet days o’ t’ spring;— I hate to see a swallow flee, Or hear a throssle sing; I greàn at t’ fresh green leaves on t’ trees; I turn frae t’ flooers o’ May, For t’ croft was white wid dog-daisies When Jwohn was teàn away. We coortit lang, dud Jwohn an’ me— We waitit lang an’ sair— He thowte oor weddin’ mūdn’t be While beàth war poor an’ bare; An’ sep’rat’, I gat past my prime, Jwohn barrow-back’t an’ grey;— Reet sair I grudg’t that wastit time, When Jwohn was teàn away. Jwohn pinch’t an’ spar’t, an’ tew’t an’ streàv, Till t’ heart wid-in him brak’— Still aimin’ brass aneuf to seàv, Some lal bit farm to tak’: An’ when he’d gitten t’ farm an’ me, ’Twas plain he mūdn’t stay;— He dwined through t’ winter dark an’ dree— I’ t’ spring was teàn away. We may’d hed many a happy year, If thowte to t’ winds we’d flung, An’ join’t oor strength life’s leàd to beear, When beàth war lish an’ yūng: But widdert was oor flooer o’ life Afoor oor weddin’ day; An’ I’d nūt been ya year a wife When Jwohn was teàn away. Sooa t’ spring o’ life na sūmmer browte, To my poor man or me; An’ t’ spring o’ t’ year noo brings me nowte But t’ mind o’ misery. I can’t see what anudder sees I’ t’ fields an’ t’ flooers o’ May, For t’ croft was white wid dog-daisies When Jwohn was teàn away. T’ CLEAN NED O’ KES’ICK. This phrase is proverbial in central Cumberland, and is generally used in a negative sense; thus, of a person whose character for upright conduct will not bear the full light of day, it is said, “He’s nūt t’ clean Ned o’ Kes’ick.” Lang an’ leàt we ma’ lait throo fray Fiend’s-fell[5] to Fles’ick,[6] Afooar we’ll finnd mair ner yā fellow or two Yan can fairly an’ freely co’ t’ clean Ned o’ Kes’ick; Oald Cūm’erlan’ t’sel’ on’t hods no’but a few! An’ hoo mūn us tell when we div happen on them? Whey, that, just off-hand, isn’t easy to say! But sūm of o’ yages hev marks plain upon them Showin’ they’re nin o’ t’ clean Ned o’ Kes’ick—nūt they!