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Updated: June 4, 2025
"'I t'ought dere was a roast goose, Chad? "'I ain't yerd nothin' 'bout no goose, I says. 'I'll ask de cook. "Next minute I yerd old marsa a-hollerin': "'Mammy Jane, ain't we got a goose? "'Lord-a-massy! yes, marsa. Chad, you wu'thless nigger, ain't you tuk dat goose out yit? "'Is we got a goose? said I. "'Is we got a goose? Didn't you help pick it?
Yo'n bin a singer yo'rsel, Nanny, i' yo'r young days never a better." "Eh, Skedlock," said Nanny; "aw us't to think I could ha' done a bit, forty year sin an' I could, too though I say it mysel. I remember gooin' to a oratory once, at Bury. Deborah Travis wur theer, fro Shay. Eh! when aw yerd her sing 'Let the bright seraphim, aw gav in.
The last one he ever read to her in that meadow was this: What gars ye sing, said the herd laddie, What gars ye sing sae lood? To tice them oot o' the yerd, laddie, The worms, for my daily food. An' aye he sang, an' better he sang, An' the worms creepit in an' oot; An' ane he tuik, an' twa he loot gang, But still he carolled stoot.
'Why, yo' know as weel as aw do, Mr. Penrose. Sin' I yerd yo' talk abaat Him as gies liberally, I thought aw'd do a bit on mi own accaant. 'There, now, said Dr. Hale, 'the snow is beginning to stay, is it not?
Horryvar, mong vioo. Dinna forget the cowslips for hersel. Cornfide. Wha gev ye thon colt? Pal to pal. Jannock. Of John Thomas, her spouse. No fake, old man Leo. S'elp me, honest injun. Shiver my timbers if I had. There's a great big holy friar. Vyfor you no me tell? Vel, I ses, if that aint a sheeny nachez, vel, I vil get misha mishinnah. Through yerd our lord, Amen. You move a motion?
But it's th' first time and th' last for me, it is that! Aw'll go whoam; an' aw'll dee theer, afore aw'll go a-beggin' ony moor, aw will for sure! Mon, it's sich a nasty, dirty job; aw'd as soon clem! . . . See yo, lasses; we set off this mornin' Martha an' me, we set eawt this mornin' to go to Gorton Tank, becose we yerd that it wur sich a good place.
'I never jist set mysel to luik, but I dinna think I ever did tak notice o' a worm settin up that heid o' his oot o' a bog. I dinna think it's a sile they care aboot. I kenna what they would get to please them there. It's the yerd they live upo'. Whaur craps winna grow, I doobt gien worms can live.
"A fellow must have something to divert his mind," he thought, "or he'd go mad. And there's no harm done the poor thing takes it as a kindness, I'm sure. I suppose her life's dull enough. We're a pair." He felt her shoulders heaving a little, as if she were gulping down something. At last she said, "You ain't troublesome. I ought to ha' yerd ye come in." He released her suddenly.
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