Ballads in the Cumberland dialect, chiefly by R. Anderson, with notes and a glossary

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1815
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Page 214 - Though poor the peasant's hut, his feasts though small, He sees his little lot the lot of all; Sees no contiguous palace rear its head, To shame the meanness of his humble shed; No costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal, To make him loath his vegetable meal; But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil, Each wish contracting, fits him to the soil.
Page 217 - Ah happy hills, ah pleasing shade, Ah fields belov'd in vain, Where once my careless childhood stray'd, A stranger yet to pain ! I feel the gales, that from ye blow, A momentary bliss bestow, As waving fresh their gladsome wing, My weary soul they seem to soothe. And, redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring.
Page 210 - Ye good distress'd! Ye noble few, who here unbending stand Beneath life's pressure ! yet bear up a while And what your bounded view, which only saw A little part, deem'd evil, is no more : The storms of Wintry Time will quickly pass, And one unbounded Spring encircle all.
Page 201 - Anticipating her kindness, he will travel ten or twelve miles, over hills, bogs, moors, and mosses, undiscouraged by the length of the road, the darkness of the night, or the intemperature of the weather. On reaching her habitation, he gives a gentle tap at the window of her chamber, at which signal she immediately rises, dresses herself, and...
Page 30 - I'll niver, niver wear them mair ! The throssle, when cauld winter's geane, Aye in our worchet welcomes spring, — It mun be luive, did we but ken, Gars him aroun' his partner sing ; — The cock and hen, the duck and drake, Nay, e'en the smawest birds that flee, Ilk thing that lives can get a mate, Except sec sworry things as me. I often think how married fwok Mun lead a sweet and happy life; The prattlin...
Page 179 - I'd hardly a plack When we married, and nobbet ae gown to my back. When the clock had struck eight, I expected him heame, And wheyles went to meet him as far as Dumleane; Of aw hours it telt, eight was dearest to me, But now when it streykes there's a tear i
Page 91 - Dinah' worchet — Stown apples bairns aw think are sweet — Deuce tek this bad 'bacco ! de'il bin, it'll draw nin, Yen mud as weel smuik a wet peat. What, yonder's Rob Donaldson got a lang letter, And some say it talks of a peace ; But that '11 nit happen i' thy time or my time, Widout we can git a new lease.
Page 43 - Yence Marget was as lish a lass As e'er in summer trod the grass ; But fearfu' changes come to pass In this weary, weary warl! Then at a murry-neet or fair, Her beauty made the young fwok stare ; Now wrinkl'd is that feace wi' care— O this weary, weary warl!
Page 50 - I'll meet ye, niver fear, man : If a lassie ye wad win, Be cheerfu' iver, bashfu' niver ; Ilka Jock may get a Jen, If he hes sense to try, man. Whene'er we at the market meet, Dunnet luik like yen hawf daft, Or talk about the cauld and heat, As ye were...
Page 166 - I'd feace the varra deil — 0 say not, we mun tarry yet ! " " A weddet life's oft dearly bought ; I cannot, munnet marry yet ; Ye hae but little — I hae nought, Sae, we a wheyle mun tarry yet ! My heart's yer awn, ye needna fear, But let us wait anudder year, And luive, -and toil, and screape up gear — We munnet, munnet marry yet ! " 'Twas but yestreen, my mudder said, 'O, dawtie ! dunnet marry yet ! I'll suin lig i' my last cauld bed ; Tou's aw my comfort — tarry yet.

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