Yorksher Puddin': A Collection of the Most Popular Dialect Stories from the Pen of John Hartley — John Shaqi
Yorksher Puddin': A Collection of the Most Popular Dialect Stories from the Pen of John HartleyHartley, John
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Yorksher Puddin': A Collection of the Most Popular Dialect Stories from the Pen of John Hartley
Hartley, John
English language -- Dialects -- England -- Yorkshire; Yorkshire (England) -- Fiction
"Tha mud do wor nor ha' me mun" he said, "aw'm nut ovver handsome aw
know, but ther's nowt abaght me to flay onybody."
"Ther'll nubby be freetened o' thee lad, tha need'nt think," shoo says,
"for tha reminds me ov a walkin' cloaas peg--if tha'd been split a bit
heigher up tha'd ha' done for a pair o' cart shafts."
"Well tha knows beauty's i'th eye o'th beholder," says Jim.
"They'd be able to put all thy beauty i' ther e'e an see noa war for
it," shoo says.
"Well, aw'm willin' to work an keep thi a lady as far as th' brass 'll
gaa."
"What mack ov a lady aw should like to know? Th' same as aw am nah aw
reckon, up to th' elbows i' soap suds. But once for all aw want thi to
understand at aw'm nooan i'th weddin' vein at present."
"Well tha'rt a hard-hearted woman, that's what tha art--an nooan as
gooid ith' bottom as tha mud be, or else tha'd niver live here chaitin'
th' excise for a livin', astead o' being th' wife ov a daycent chap. Aw
ommost wish aw'd letten them chaps catch thi; it ud nobbut ha sarved thi
reight."
"Sarved me reight, wod it? Well tha con goa an fotch Slinger aght o'
th' pigcoit (for aw reckon he's thear yet), but ha mich better ar ta, at
sits thear suppin' it? But whether aw'm as gooid as aw should be or
net, aw'm sure tha'rt a gooid-for-nowt, an th' sooiner tha taks thi hook
aght o' this haase an' th' better, for aw've studden thy nonsense woll
aw'm fair staled. Are ta baan? For if tha doesn't tha'll get this
poaker abaght thi heead."
"Nay! Nay! tha doesn't mean it?" said Jim, jumpin' aght o'th gate, "tha
wodn't hurt me surelee?"
"Hurt thi! drabbit thi up, tha's spun me to th' length--ger aght o' that
door."
Jimmy kept backin' aght step by step, an' Molly wor flourishin' th'
poaker, but nother on em saw at th' peggy-tub wor fair i'th gate woll
Jim backed slap into it. Splash went th' watter o' ivery side, an'
Molly skriked, "A'a dear! sarved thi reight, as if tha could'nt see a
whole tub! What are ta splashin' like that for?"
But poor Jimmy couldn't spaik, for he wor wedged as fast as a thief in a
miln, an' nowt but his legs an' his arms could be seen. Molly catched
howd on his legs an' tried to pool him aght, but th' heigher shoo lifted
his feet an' th' lower sank his heead, soa ther wor noa way to do but to
roll it over an' teem him aght.
"This beats all," says Molly, as shoo helped him up, "couldn't ta see
it?"
"Does ta think aw've a e'e i' th' back o' my heead?" he said, "it's all
long o' thee, an' dang it that watters whoot."
"It's like to be whoot," shoo says, "did ta iver know folk wesh i' cold
watter, tha lumphead?"
"Well, what shall aw have to do? Aw'm as weet as a sop, to say nowt ov a
blister or two.
"Tha mun goa thi ways to bed an' throw thi clooas daan th' stairs an,
aw'll see if aw connot dry 'em off for thi."
Soa up stairs he went an' flang his weet things daan, sayin' at th' same
time, "If tha finds any buttons off tha can suit thisen whether tha puts
'em on or net."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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