from Peace’s Almanac, by J. Smith Leask
Cess – Eh, na, noo, is dat dee, Tella? Come dee was in by. Whit’s taen dee sae far fae hame i’ sic wather?
Tel – Hesh, bit he’s a cald, cald day da day.
Cess – Yea, he’s a dat; wheeld dee was doon I’ da steul, an’ set ap dee feet api da peerie creepie an’ warm dee taes fill I pit twa clods api da fire. Du sees am roastin’ twa tattas i’ da amers – am gan tae gae rossin tattas an’ dippins for me twal oors.
Tel – Hoo’s a’ wi’ dee da day?
Cess – Oh, Tella, Tella, miny a miny a langersome day am I hane sin I saa dee last; oh, Tella, Tella, hic, hic, hic.
Tel – Whit i’ helt is dee moligrant da day ower?
Cess – Oh, Tella, Tella, a neou pain strack me right i’ da hade; oh, Tella, Tella.
Tel – Gae’d a swill an’ lit oot a air o’ da hate, an’ da blots’ll mak’ da tattas grou am seur.
Cess – Oh, Tella, Tella, buddie, deuna be makin’ a mock o’ me; am no gaen me hade a swill sin me Poiter slippid awa.
Tel – No sin Poiter slippid awa! Be aboot is a’! dat’s fower year last Yule! Sae might I trive, de hade buist be skrythin.
Cess – Na, buddie, na; hid’s no dat. Am keppid id weel kaimed, an du wad be paaled foo feou greubacks I tak’ oot o’d – jeust ane or twa noos an’ dans.
Tel – Bit, lass, foo gets du sleep trou da night wi’ yeuck? Am seur dey’ll had dee claain’.
Cess – A weel, seustu noo, am tinkin’ hids better tae be tae da fore an claa, nor be awa wi’d an’ lie aside Poiter again. Whiles he waas stootly ill-snored an’ kittle tae win on wi’ when e’ waas here api ert – aye he waas dat; hem, hem, aye, yea, he waas dat. Am seur I kinna whit ‘e’ll be noo wi’ naetin’ tae deu bit sit an’ play a bit o’ harpy ting, an’ sing da Psalms af Daavid.
Tel – He, he, he. Poiter sinnin’ singin’ Psalms! I tink I hear ‘im! He, he, he. Treu e’ waas me ain brither; I ken fine ‘e could mak’ din aneuch, bit tae sing! ‘e kent is muckle aboot singin’ is a beul paddock. Is for playin’ api a harp, I wiss gin ‘e ivver saa sic a ting; or kent da differ atween da “Ald Hunder” an’ da “Keel Row.” Whiles whan ‘e waas a cutty rinnin’ child ‘e tootled api a penny trump, bit am hard is guid meusic oot i’ a sma-teeth kaim.
Cess – Oh, heush, heush, lass; du so’odna spak’ ill o’ dem ‘ats awa, lit alane dee ain brither. Aye, yea, hem, hem; hid’s no right; na hid’s no. Aye, he waas a bra, bra lad whan I teuk ‘im, an’ miny a greet am grittin’ ower his pants sin I lost ‘im. I keepid dem weel rowed ap i’ da fit o’ me bed, anunder da strae; bit, lit a lit, I pat me bed strae anunder da grice, no kennan da pants waar amang id, an’ deudna da grice geong an’ rive Poiter’s pants, a’ tae a bit o da band an’ twa but-tons; hic, hic, hic, hee, hee, hee. Aye, miny a greet am grittin’ ower dem. Whan I tou’t lang, I eused tae tak’ dem oot an’ hing dem ap fornent da bed an’ tink o’ foo weel Poiter filled dem – aye deud I, hem, hem, aye deud I. Am aye keepid da twa but-tons api a bit o’ string i’ me bosam, seustu; an’ I keep da bit o’ breek here i’ me pooch tae dicht me specs; aye, dere id is, aye o’ some euse du sees – aye, yea. Dat’s a’ at da grice left o’ Poiter’s bits o’ Sunday pants, aye is hid; yea, da vera last Sunday pants ‘e ivver hed apin ‘is legs; hic, hic, hic. Eh, bit weel deu I mind da teun me an’ im danced wir first dance tae. Dere waasna a fiddler, bit we hed a night o’d. Tammy o’ da Moss sang da teun –
“Deedle doodle, deedle doodle, deedle doodle doo,
Deedle doodle, deedle doodle, deedle doodle doo,
Deedle doodle, doo, deedle doodle doo,
Deedle doodle, deedle doodle, deedle doodle doo”
Me Poiter might a been tae da fore da day, gin he hedna been sae illcontrivin’ an’ washin’ ‘is hade dat cald Sunday mornin’, an’ dan sitt’n a’ day i’ da cald kirk leedin’ till ald Rade praachin’ aboot castin’ pearls afore swine. Yea, little deud he tink hoo seun I wad cast da vera pants he hed apin ‘im dan afore da grice tae be trampid apin an’ riven, jeust is da Beuk says, swine’ll deu wi’ pearls an’ folk.
Thanks for id, wir grice deudna fash folk t’o. A’ da sam’, bit for da grice, da pants wad a been lyan i’ me bed dis blissed meenit, an’ ma’be I wad haen anither greet ower dem whan du geongs; yea, aye, aye might I. Hid waas droll hoo washin’ ‘is hade sood a set doon apin ‘is neers an’ kerrid ‘im awa; bit hid’s jeust is da Beuk says aboot da wind blaain’ an’ ye deuna ken whar id may land; bit dat’s da wharteu am no washin’ mine sin syne, or ‘id might bla’ me aside ‘im. Noo, I haena onything o’ Poiter’s tae greet ower bit dis bit o’ pant an’ twa but-tons; hic, hic, hic. Eh, na bit, Cessie, hard du da neus?
Tel – Whit? ‘at me peerie oi’s dade?
Cess – Dade! dade! hic, hic – peerie Tommy dade! Seurly hids no treu, hic, hic, hic. Puir bairn, puir bit o’ ting, hic, hic, hic. Whan hard du? Whit’s Jamie an’ Teena sayin’ aboot ‘id?
Tel – Himph! I hed a lang screed fae Jamie tellan me a’ aboot ‘id, an’ hoo vexed dey waar ower id. Himp – jeust tink api dat – vexed for da dathe o’ a bairn! Ivver hard du da like?
Cess – Weel, bit he waas a’ dey hed.
Tel – Help de wit, there’s plenty more whar ‘e cam’ fae.
Cess – Treu, treu. Da Best’ll ma’be gae dem a hale swad tae mak’ ap for id; aye, He may, bit, a’ da sam’ am rightly vexed for Jamie an’ Teena. Na, bit I war’ sayin’ hard du da neous ‘at da mare o’ Nazegoe’s haen a pair o’ foals – twa staigs, dat’s a feralie noo; an’ dey’re killed a hale ox.
Tel – Yea, I ken aboot da ox. Dis is Billy’s birtday, an’ am gan doon wi’ a pair o’ sox ‘at am wrou’t for ‘im is eusual. Aye, du minds, am his name mither – he’s saxty da day – he waas born api da twinty-eight day o’ Merch eighteen hundred an’ twinty-sax, an’ dat mak’s me fower score, bit, hath, a’ll ma’be hing taegither a score or twa yet, wha kens. Whit tinks du o’ me sox?
Cess – Is dat for Billy? Lass, dey’re ower peerie; he wad haen a langer fit nor dat when he was sax.
Tel – A weel, hid waas a’ da worsit I could lay han’s apin. I got a peerie cleu o’ green fae Jeanic, an’ anither peerie ane o’ rade fae Jessie, an’ a curly ane o’ bleou fae Mags, an’ a air o’ black fae Nellie, an’ Betty gaed me half a hank o’ white tae tae me stockings wi’; sae I hed some o’ hid ower, an’ is dat waas a’ I hed, I jeust made da sox tae seut da worsit, an’ gin dey’re ower sma’, he can gae dem tae ane o’ his ois. Dey’ll be blide o’ dem.
Cess – Aye, dey’re richtly bonnie, an’ du’re cuttit dee cot tae seut dee claith richt aneuch, bit am tinkin’ dey deudna cost dee vera muckle.
Tel – Me wark – hid’s aye so’mthing.
Cess – Du’ll be weel paid for dem; whit’ll du be lippinin’?
Tel – I kinna. Am on me wey dere noo. A’ll ma’be get a bluidy puddin’ or twa, wha kens. Am richtly silted for a bit o’ a bluidy puddin’; an’ A’ll get a bit o’ mate tae frey wha kens, an’ twa-r-tree eggs gin da hens hae begood tae lay. Oh, deuna du be shakkin’ – whit I deuna get I’se speer for – am waitin’ for twa o’ dee rossin’ tattas.
Cess – Bit, lass, I hae bit tree i’ da amers.
Tel – Weel, twa’ll deu me, am no greedy.
Cess – Wadna du tak’ a bit o’ a soowan scone? I haena a bit o’ butter tae pit apin id t’o; two o’ wir kye’s gaen yeld; an’ da hens ar’na oot o’ ossicar yet; sae I haena onything tae gae dee wi’d.
Tel – Whan’s Bobby gan tae kill yir golt?
Cess – Kill da golt?
Tel – Hem, hem.
Cess – Ma’be trou da incomin’ week – eh, na, bit hard du o’ da sair misanter ‘at Pattie o’ Rowland’s hean? Mittled ‘is peerie tae keekin’ da cat wi’ ‘is bare fit i’ da dark, cis sheu waas neouin’ sae muckle, an’ he missed da cat an’ keekid da door.
Tel – He so’od a haen ‘is buits on. Whit day is Bobby gan tae kill da golt, said du?
Cess – Trou da week, ma’be. Aye, bit dey’re haen da Doctor at Patie’s tae; hid’s braken, an’ da bane cam’ trou da skin, du sees, an dey’re far’d hid’ll gae ‘im lockjaa.
Tel – Hids guid mains apin ‘im, ‘e sood a keepid clean feet an’ dan he wadna’ taen lockjaa. Whit day deud du say Bobby waas gan tae kill?
Cess – Oh, trou da week, trou da week ma’be – bit am sairly pittin aboot ower Patie’s tae; hid’ll ma’be deu for ‘im, an’ dan whit’ll come o’ ‘is puir wife? Aye, yea, aye. Hic, hic, hic.
Tel – Himph, sheul’ll seun get anither man. Tinks du will Bobby kill api Monday?
Cess – I deuna ken – eh, bit hid’s awfu’ tae tink o’ Patie slippin’ awa trou a braken tae; aye, hid’s heumlin’ tae tink apin.
Tel – Dey deuna a’ dee ‘at brak dere taes, wimman; dere waas Kirsy o’ da Why ‘at dang aff ‘er muckle tae gan tae da toon, an’ kentna o’d till sheu fand it api da road hame, an’ sheu stack id on again an’ wippid a bit o’ cloot aboot ‘id an’ ‘id greu, an’ sheu waas nain da waar o’d, bit whan sheu teuk off da cloot, da tae waas groun apside doon, an’ da nail cuttit da soles o’ her stockin’s sae muckle ‘at sheu whet warin’ dem bit is ceutoos. Will Bobby kill api Tiesday?
Cess – Ma’be. Eh, na, bit hard du da sploor aboot Pegs o’ Vean’s chickens.
Tel – Hem, hem. An’ Bobby’s gan tae kill api Tiesday?
Cess – Wha telt dee?
Tel – Nivver mind wha telt me. Ye’ll be keepin’ a bit tae yersels, I’se warran?
Cess – Bobby’s no seur yet; he’ll ma’be keep a leg; hid’ll a’ depend api whit Horne’s gaen for swine noo.
Tel – Och, wimman, du sood mak’ ‘im keep half o’d; whit’s a leg? Whan ar’ du makin’ dee puddins?
Cess – I kinna.
Tel – Bobby’s killin’ api Tiesday; hem, hem, hes du ony soowans?
Cess – A peeire air, deed hid’s bit a peerie, uddie sap. Bobby teuk in da ald plowt kirn, an’ misglimed tae pit in da bung, an’ I tristed leithfilly I wirran half a oor, fill I fand me feet weet, an’ whan I leukid, dere waas a’ me soowans rinnin’ trou da bung hole is fast is I tristed id.
Tel – He, he, he. Dat waas witless o’ dee. I cinna cairy ony da day, is am lippinin’ tae hae a guid scurtfu’ fae Willie tae geong hame wi’, bit I’se be doon for a jeckfu’ o’ soowans api Feursday. Haste du waas, am waitin’ for me rossin tattas.
Cess – I tout du waar gan tae Nazegoe.
Tel – I am dat I’se asseur dee.
Cess – Weel, gin du geongs noo at twal, du’ll get de bellyfu’ o’ da ox.
Tel – Dat’s i’ me ee teu, bit I want twa tattas.
Cess – Du’ll be ower late; twal’s dinner ‘oor at Nazegoe.
Tel – Fine deu I ken dat, an’ am keepin’ a ee api dee clock.
Cess – Och, sheu’s half a ‘oor ahint.
Tel – Half a ‘oor ahint! be aboot me, an’ hid’s half past eleevan wi’ ‘er. Du can keep me tattas, am aff for a guid fill o’ Nazegoe’s ox.
Cess (aside) – Du mean, greedy ald slut. Gin I hed is muckle o’ da warl’ is sheu hes, I wadna be sittin’ doon tae tattas an’ dippins for me twal ‘oors, or geong tae hooses hintin’ for id. Sheu’s no been ower me doorstane sin we killed wir ald soo a year sin, an’ dan sheu gaed aff wi’ a guid bit o’ me fa. Sae dat’s da wharteu, sheu ca’d tae fin’ oot whan we waar gan tae kill wir golt. Aye, an’ sheu’s comin’ back api Feursday, tinkin tae get a bit, is sheu? I’se tize Bobby no tae kill till Friday – da mean, nabel slut ‘at sheu is. Aye, she’s a’ dat, bit am hained me tattas; aye, yea, am deun dat. Yea, I tout id waasna tae see me sheu ca’d – no, am no wirt; her guts is a’ sheu tinks api – aye, deed is hid, da narbeg’an, greedy, gutsy chad ‘at sheu is.
(Produces breek band and buttons and has a jolly good weep over the relics).