Jwosep’ went back to t’ doctor, an’ t’ oald wicket teul H’ard his teàl, an’ says he, wid a snūrt an’ a gūrn, “If thy thumb’s i’ t’ churchyard, thoo pooar priest-bodder’t feùl, Thoo ma’ mak’ thysel’ suer while it bides it ’ill būrn.” He laid him sūm plaisters o’ soav on his po’, An’ gev him sūm stuff to lig on tūl’t at heàm; But nowte putten on tul’t gev easement tūll Joe, For t’ būrnin’ an’ bworin’ wer’ iverly t’ seàm. An’ it keept on sa bad, he tūrn’t maffelt an’ maiz’t, An’ sa wankle an’ wake ’at he to’k tull his bed, Whoar, liggin’ hoaf deid, ey, an’ mair nor hoaf craiz’t, He cūd think aboot nowte but what t’ doctor hed said. He triet nūt to speak on’t—He knew ’twasn’t reet, But it ola’s beàd by him—his uppermor’ thowte; An’ he yammer’t at t’ wife tull she went back at neet To dig ūp t’ oald thūmb, an’ brong’t heàm iv a cloot. They laid it i’ t’ gardin, an’ hoo ’t com’ aboot Nowder t’ mistress nor t’ parson cūd under-cum-stand, But sarten it was, fray that varra time oot, Sairy Jwosep’ was bodder’t na mair wid his hand. But Jwosep’ was niver ageàn his oald sel’. An’ a questi’n com’ ūp still whativer he tried, “If a thùmb i’ t’ churchyard was sa bad, whoa cūd tell What a corp’ pùtten in’t o’togidder mūd bide!” This he maddel’t aboot ebben endways away— As lang as he breath’t it was ola’s his drone; An’ t’ wife hed na peace till he gat her to say He sud lig by his-sel’ iv a field o’ the’r oan. An’ Joe tiet her up till her wūrd iv his will, For theear suer aneuf when he dee’t it was fūnd ’At he’d left o’ tull hūr, no’but if she’d fulfil His craze ageàn liggin’ i’ consecrate grūnd. An’ Joe hed his way, for a square roughish steàn[21] By t’ dike, i’ t’ Sco’-lonnin’, at this varra day, Tell’s whoar Jwosep’ Thompson ligs whyet an’ leàn— Keep us weel fray sec doctors as Jwosep’s, I pray! An’ keep us, I pray, fray o’ wild wicket toak, Bringan’ bodder an’ fashment tull oald an’ tull yūng. Jwosep’ Thompson wad ristit wid Christian fwoke, If t’ doctor he went tull hed hodden his tūng! [17] Harrington Town, the ancient village about half a mile inland, is so called in distinction from Harrington Harbour, the small sea-port, which is modern. The heiress of the family which took its name and title from Harrington was mother of the Lord Bonville and Harrington, brother-in-law to the king-making Earl of Warwick. The manor was forfeited by the attainder of Henry Grey, Duke of Suffolk, great-grandson of the said Lord Bonville, and father of Lady Jane Grey, and given by the Queen (Mary), to the Curwens of Workington, who still hold it.