‘An’ hoo she com to be wid them was niver reeghtly known, But nebbers so’ she wasn’t used as if she’d been ther oan; For t’ oald fwoke soas’t her neet an’ day,—her man—a dūrty tike!— Wad bray her wid a besom-stick, a thyvel, or sec like; “Tull yance a nebber teùk her in, when t’ tinklers flang her oot, An’ she let fo’ a wūrd or two ’at brong a change aboot; She telt o’ sūm stown geese an’ sheep, an’ whoar they hed them hidden; Of mutton up on t’ sleeping loft, an’ skins anonder t’ midden. “It wasn’t many wūrds she said,—but wūrds she said anew To bring t’ oald tinkler and her man tull what was weel ther due; For lang i’ Cārel jail they laid, an’ when t’ assize com on, T’ Jūdge let t’ oald waistrel lowce ageàn, but hang’t his whopeful son. “An’ back frae Cārel t’ tinkler com, to Branthet reeght away, An’ ’ticet t’ poor lass frae t’ nebber’s hoose whoar she’d beep fain to stay; He promish’t fair to treat her weel, and dūd while t’ seckint neeght, An’ than, (reeght pleas’t was Branthet fwok,) he meàd a moonleeght fleeght. “An’ days went by an’ neàbody went nār to t’ tinkler’s dooar, At last some barns peep’t in an’ so’ some huller’t bleùd on t’ flooar, An’ than t’ hoose dooar was drūven in, an’ sec a seeght was theer, ’At sūm ’at so ’t went reid wid reàge, an’ sūm went white wid fear. “Squeez’t up intull a dūrty neùk, an’ bleùdy, stark, an’ deid, They fūnd that nice young lass’s corp, bit niver fūnd her heid; T’ oald tinkler hoond hed hagg’t it off afooar he meàd a fleeght on ’t, An’ teàn it wid him, fwoke suppwos’t, to gud his-sel’ wid t’ seet on’t. “An’ nin o’ t’ clan at efter that i’ t’ country side was seen. But iver sen a hantit spot hes that Neùk-lonning been, For t’ mūrder’t woman wokes aboot, an’ greàns, for o’ she’s deid, As lood as what we hārd to-neeght,—_they say she laits her heid_!” “Wey, weel deùn, Jwohn!” to Jwohn sez I, “an’ thenks ta for thy teàl, It’s meàd me hoaf forgit hoo t’ snow maks o’ my teeàs geàl; Th’u’s just at heàm,—gud neeght, my lad, but fūrst hear this fray me, If iv’ry teàl ’at’s telt be true, thy stwory’s neà lee!” MARY RAY AN’ ME. Bonnie Mary Ray an’ me Wer’ barnish sweethearts lang, But I was wild an’ yūng, an’ she Was niver reetly strang; Sooa frinds o’ beàth sides threep’t it sair ’At partit we sud be— An’ life was darken’t t’ lang-er t’ mair To Mary Ray an’ me. But yance lāl Mary Ray an’ me Met oot on Woker Broo, When t’ clouds burn’t reid far oot at sea, An’ t’ sūn com’ bleezin’ through, An’ sent ya lang-droan glissenin’ ray Across that dowly sea, Like t’ promish of a happier day To Mary Ray an’ me.