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Updated: June 14, 2025
'No one has melled wi' me; but a've been mellin' wi' t' gang at last. 'Thee: they niver were for pressing thee! exclaimed both the women at once. 'No! they knowed better. They'n getten their belly-full as it is.
Sitting smiling by the window, he looked as if he had lots of fun in him, if he only had a fair chance of letting it off. He told us that he was a "tackler" by trade. A tackler is one who fettles looms when they get out of order. "Couldn't you get on at Horrocks's?" said my friend. "Naw," replied he; "they'n not ha' men-weighvers theer." The wife said," We're a deal better off than some.
Shorrock's th' paymaister, under th' Guardians, But, then, he nobbut went accordin' to orders, yo known. At last, th' Board sattle't that they mut be paid for weet and dry, -an' there's bin quietness sin'. They wortchen fro eight till five; an', sometimes, when they'n done, they drilln o' together i'th road yon just like sodiurs an' then they walken away i' procession.
And a young lass from behind Burton came into place in Manchester last Martinmas; so after awhile she had a Sunday out, and she comes to me, and tells me some cousins o' mine bid her find me out, and say how glad they should be to ha' me to bide wi' 'em, and look after th' childer, for they'n getten a big farm, and she's a deal to do among th' cows.
And at this Captain wagged his tail with delight, and rubbed his cold nose under the palm of Moses' hand. 'Aw've gin thee a bad name, owd mon, and they'n tried to hang thee for't; but thaa'll happen do summat some day as they'll tee a medal raand thi neck for, and when thaa'rt deead build thee a moniment.
"Well," continued the other; "keep thi heart eawt of thi clogs, iv thi breeches dun eawt-thrive thi carcass a bit, owd lad." "Aye," said Jone, "but what mun I do when my clogs gi'n way?" "Whaw, thae mun go to th' Guardians; they'n gi tho a pair in a minute." "Nay, by ," replied Jone, "aw'll dee furst!"
Is it just as it used to be in feyther's days? 'Well, a cannot say as it is, said Kester, thankful to have a subject started. 'They'n pleughed up t' oud pasture-field, and are settin' it for 'taters. They're not for much cattle, isn't Higginses. They'll be for corn in t' next year, a reckon, and they'll just ha' their pains for their payment.
"Eh, my lads! Th' hours war ne'er so long sin' I war born as they'n been this blessed Sunday night. What can ye both ha' been doin' till this time?" "Thee shouldstna sit i' the dark, Mother," said Adam; "that makes the time seem longer."
He's bin deead aboon five-an-forty year, neaw." "Well, but, Nanny," said Skedlock, laying his hand on the old woman's shoulder, "yo known what a hard job it is to keep th' bant i'th nick wi' a rook o' musicianers. They cap'n the world for bein' diversome, an' jealous, an' bad to plez. Well, as I wur sayin' they'n had a deeal o' trouble about music this year or two back, up at th' owd chapel.
"Aw could like yo to gi mo a bit o' summat, Mr Eccles, for aw need it" "Well, but you've some lodgers, haven't you, Mary?" "Yigh; aw've three." "Well; what do they pay you?" "They pay'n mo nought. They'n no wark, an' one connot turn 'em eawt." This was all quite true. "Well, but you live with your son; don't you?" continued the chairman.
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