Classic Poem

A' you 'at smudge at merry teales,
Or at devarshon sheyle,
Or goff and gurn at tuolliments,
Now lend your lugs a wheyle;
For sec an Infair I've been at,
As hes but seldom been,
Whar was sec wallopin' an' wark,
As varra few hev seen
By neeght or day.

Bit furst I'll tell ye how an' why
This parlish bout begun,
An' when an' whar, an' whea they war,
'At meade a' this feyne fun;
Furst, you mun ken, a youthfu' pair,
By frugal thrift exceyted,
Wad hev a breydewain, an' of course
The country roun' inveyted
Agean that day.

At S—b—n—s, ith' Abbey Holme,
This weddin' it was hauden,
But or the teyme arriv'd, some friens
An' neybor's furst war caw'd on;
Wi' them in council grave they fixt,
What methods to proceed on,
An' a' the busness there an' than,
Was finally agreed on,
Clean thro' that day.

Neist day a dizzen lish young lads,
Wi' naigs weel graith'd an' hearty,
Wi' whup an' spur, thro' stenk an' stoore,
Set off, a jolly party;
Frae town to town leyke weyld they flew,
Or house, whare'er they spy'd yen,
An' ivry lad or lass they met
I'th house or out, to th' breydewain,
They bade that day.

Thro' oth' Holme parish furst they ruode,
Frae th' Auld Kiln to Kurkbreyde,
To Aikton, Bowness, Banton, Bruff,
An' roun' oth' country seyde;
An' mony a harlin reace they hed,
Owr pasture, hill, an' deale,
An' monnie a cowp an' kaik they gat,
An' monnie a tift o' yell,
Ith' rwoad that day.

An' some ruode east, an' some ruode west,
An' some ruode fast an' far,
An' some gat sae mislear'd wi' drink,
They ruode the de'il kens whar.
Now th' auld guid fwokes that staid at heame,
As thropweyfe they war thrang,
An' meat an' drink, an' ither things,
Reight moider'd war amang,
Thro' a' that day.

Now a' their bidden owr an' duone,
Reight tir'd they heamward speed,
But some at th' Abbey, owr a quart,
Theirsells to slocken 'greed;
Then great Job Bruff gat on a thruff,
A a' rais'd a fearfu' rout,
'At some day suon at S—b—n—s,
They'd hev a parlish bout
O'th' bredyewain day.

At last this sizlin pack consent
When dark, towards heame to draw,
Then down to th' Cwoate, for t'other slwote,
They gallop yen an' a';
This neeght, the cheerfu' breyde-pot's drunk,
Wi' dances, sangs, an' murth,
An' mebby some sma' jobs are duone,
That bissness may ca' furth,
Some other day.

But now the lang-expected mworn
Of murriment arrives,
Wheyle helter-skelter frae a' airts,
I' swarms the country drives;
The lasses in their feyne pearce claes,
The lads baith trig an' souple;
Owr hill an' knowe, thro' seugh an' sowe,
Comes tiftan many o' couple,
Hauf saim'd that day.

Frae Cowgoe, Brumfelt, an' Cruokdake,
Frae Speatry, Bwoal, an' Bowtan,
An' evry parish roun' about,
The fwoaks i' swarms come rowten:
An' monie a queerfar'd jwoat was there,
An' monnie an' unco't shaver,
Some wantin' mence, some wantin' sense,
An' some their best behaviour.
Put on that day.

Frae Angerton wheyte to Dubbmill,
Nin mist, as yen may say,
But a' wi' yae consent seem'd met,
To mence this merry day.
Wheyle Allonby turn'd out en masse,
Ding dang, baith man an' woman,
An' parlish pranks 'mang Silloth banks,
They hed as they were comin'
To th' Cwoate that day.

But it wad need a Homer's Head,
War I to tak in han',
To sing or say what fwoak that day,
War there or how they wan;
For far an' near an' God kens whare,
By common invitation.
Wi' young an' auld and great an' laal,
Seem'd met on this occasion,
Wi' glee that day.

Lang Leeny com wi' woal ey'd Wull,
Wi' thing o' Causway Head,
Wi' what's they ca' him o' Foulseyke,
Tom Bewly an' Jack Reed;
Wi' jumpin' Jonathan, auld Joe Barnes,
Dumb Jer'my an' lang Beaty,
Wi' thingumbob o' Southerfield,
Hard's Miller an' peed Peaty,
War there that day.

Blackan o' Warton, he was there,
An' Barwise Lads o'th' Tarns,
Wi' Irish Cursty, Canterin Ned,
An' fratcheous Gweordy Barns;
Wi' stutrin' Isaac, lispin' Frank,
Job Keay an' Robby Weyse,
An hundred mair wheas neams to tell,
Or sing, wad sarra tweyce,
Com on this day.

In shwort to say upon this day,
Frae yae nuik an' anither,
Twea thousand war frae far an' near,
Assembled here together;
The rwoads war clean, the weather warm,
The lasses a' luik'd preymly,
An' whup for smack, the party pack,
A' aimin' to be teymly
O'th' sod this day.

Wi' bizzy eare the blushin' breyde
An' maids theirsells are bussin,
Wheyle some wi' pillion seats an' sonks
To gear their naigs are fussin.
Wi' glentin' spurs an' weel clean'd buits,
Lin sark, an' neyce cword breeches,
The breydegroom roun' the midden pant,
Proud as a peacock stretches,
Reeght crouse that day.

Now heevy-skeevy off they set,
To th' Kurk, a merry crew,
Some gravely pac'd up th' turnpike rwoad,
Wheyle some like leeghtnin' flew;
Neer ak, they a' gat there i' teyme,
The priest was ready waitin',
The wed'ners just took gluts a piece;
Wheyle he his buik was laitin',
Frae th' kist that day.

His lesson fun'd an' a' set reeght,
To wark they gat wi' speed,
You tak this woman for your weyfe,
The breydegroom grumph'd agreed:
An' you young woman promise here,
To honour an' obey
Your spouse in a' he may require,
The breyde said mantan n-yea,
We'el see some day.

Clwose buckled now, the parson paid,
Furth frae the kurk they waddle,
An' thick an' three faul', han' owr head,
Each lowps out owr his saddle;
The lasses lap up hint their lads,
Some stridlin' an' some seydeways,
An' some there war that wish'd their lot
Hed been what Ann's the breyde was,
Ay oft that day.

A' hors'd agean, streeght up th' town geate,
Leyke weyld fire off they flee,
An' nowther puol nor peet-stack flinch,
They're off wi' seck a bree;
'Twas a fair start, its a preyme reace,
Winge you! how fast they gang,
But yonder's Jerry Skelton lad,
He's fawn off wid a whang,
For seer this day.

Brown o'th Moss seyde how he does reyde,
Wi' lang neck'd spurs he's rivan;
An' yonder's Glaister o'th' Black Deyke,
Leyke that o' donnet drivan;
As for yon Peape, if he escape
A neck-breck, its uncommon,
But Weyse grey meare, had she been here,
She wad been bang'd by nea man
'At's here to day.

But now they're fairly out o' seeght,
An' wheyte doun Coava lonnin.
Come we mun fettle up oursells,
Its teyme we sud be donnin:
I waddent leyke to be owr lang,
Come Jwosep, Izbel, hie ye,
You'll suin be buss'd, an' nin behin,
I faickins sal gang bye ye,
O'th' rwoad this day.

Now th' weddiners are at th' far end,
An' a' thro' ither cruonin',
Wheyle th' fiddlers they're at wark i'th' leathe,
An' thrang they're fiddles tuneing;
Tom Trimmel, Tommy Baxter, Stagg,
Nay, hauf a scowre they've led in,
An' they're a' rozzlin' up their bows,
To streyke up Cuddy's Weddin',
Wi' glee this day.

The breyde now on a coppy stuol,
Sits down i'th' fauld a' whithrin',
With pewter dibler on her lap,
On which her towgher's gethrin';
The fwoak leyke pez in a keale-pot,
Are yen thro' tother minglin',
An' crowns an' hauf crowns thick as hail,
Are i' the dibler jinglin',
Reeght fast that day.

Nit yen that's owther mence or sheame
Wad be that snaflin ninny
As to haud back their gift, nay some
Wad whuther in a guinea.
I'th' meanteyme th' fiddlers changg'd and play'd,
As hard as shey cou'd peg,
Till th' offering it was feckly duon,
When back to th' barn to sweg
They bows'd that day.

Now loundrin' shives o' cheese an' breed,
Are down their gizzrin's whang'd,
An' some there war cud scarcely speak,
Their thropples were sea pang'd;
Bit twea or three let down's o' yell,
Soon set their hawses free,
When thus with pith restword, yence mair
They took anudder spree,
Till cramm'd that day.

Indeed there was some feckless fwoak,
At luikt to be owr neyce,
'At nobbit nibblen peyk't and eat,
Just like as monny meyce;
Bit then there was some yetherin' dogs,
At owr the leave laid th' capsteane,
For some they said eat lumps as big
As Sammy Liank's lapsteane,
I'th' barn that day.

They're keyte's weel trigg'd wi' solid geer,
They now began to guzzle,
Wheyle yell in jugs an' canns was brought,
An' held to evry muzzle;
They drank in piggins, peynts or quarts,
Or ought 'at com to han',
An' some they helt it down sea fast,
They suin cud hardly stan
Thar sells that day.

At last some lish young souple lads
Their naigs frae th' buoses brought,
An' off they set to try a reace,
The prize was neist to nought;
A rig-reape, braugham, pair o' heams,
Or something o' that swort,
Nea matter, tryfle as it was,
It made them famish spwort,
O'th' sands that day.

Some for a pair of mittans loup;
Some wurstled for a belt;
Some play'd at pennice steans for brass;
An' some amaist gat fel't;
Hitch step an' loup some try'd for spwort,
Wi' monny a sair exertion;
Ithers for bits o' bacco gurn'd,
An' sec leyke daft devarshon
Put owr that day.

Now some o'th' menceful mak o' fwoak,
As suon as things w'ar settled,
When they'd yence hed a decent snack,
To set off heamewards fettled;
Bit mony a yen there was that staid,
Auld sly buits that war deeper,
An' Philip Mesher cried hout, stop!
Guid drink was never cheaper,
Than't's here to-day.

Full mony a reeght good teyper com,
As th' country seyde cud brag on!
Nay, there was some that at a win
Cud tuom down a yeal flaggon.
Wi' casks weel season'd frae a' nuiks
Thur bachanalions gether'd,
An' some there war 'at clash't their keytes
Till they war fairly yether'd
Wi' drink that day.

Some crack o' brandy, some o' rum,
An' some o' weyne far sought;
That drink o' my opinion's best,
'At we can get for nought;
That day i' this seame thought wi' me,
I witnessed monny a seyper,
For bleth'rin' Lanty Rutson gat
As full as onny peyper,
Suon on that day.

Wi' fiddlin, dancin, cracks an' yell,
The day slipt swuftly owr,
An' monnie a scwore or darknin' gat,
As drunk as they cud glowr.
When great Tom Carr, that man o' war,
Com stackrin' on to th' fleer,
He slapt his ham', an' cried, od dam,
I'll box wi' onny here,
'At dare this day.

Then Watty Farguson, provwok'd
To hear this haufthick rattle,
Fetch'd him a fluet under th' lug,
An' sea began their battle;
Clash tuot they fell, wi' thumps pell-mell,
Wheyle a' was hurdum durdum;
An' some amang the skemmels fell,
An' ithers nearly smuir'd them,
I'th' fray that neeght.

Then up lap Lowrie o' the Lees,
An' leyke a madman ranted,
A lang flail souple full'd his neif,
That owr fwoaks heads he flaunted;
He yoller'd out for Cursty Bell,
Whea last Yule eve had vex'd him,
But was sea daft he could not see
Puor Kit tho' he sat next him
I'th' leathe that neeght.

Kit gat a braugham in his han',
Wi' veng'ance whurl'd it at him,
The collar leeghted roun' his neck,
An' to the fluir it pat him,
Loud sweels o' laughter dirl'd their lugs,
The fwoak war a' sea fain,
An' wheyle he sprawl'd wi' reage an' sheame,
Some cried out he was slain
Cauld deed that neeght.

Twea gurnin' gibbies in a nuik,
Sat fratchin' yen anudder,
An' nought wad sarra them but they
Wad hev a match together.
A single roun' for hauf a crown,
The question was to pruive,
But t'yen objected to the bet,
An' said he box'd for luive,
Or nought that neeght.

Then off their duds thar duosters doft,
An' tirl'd to their bare buffs,
Beath teyke leyke tuolian roun' the barn,
An' dealen clumsy cluffs;
But sir John Barleycorn sea sway'd,
Their slaps they a' flew slant,
Till a—e owr head they cowp'd at last,
Lang stretch'd i'th' midden pant,
Weel sows'd that neeght.

Just leyke as when some druove o' kye,
Brek back and a—ewards hurry;
Sea here thar govisons leyke font,
Wad yen anudder lurry;
Stark mother neak'd they skelp'd about,
An' some gat deevlish knockan;
But th' silly Blackburd o' Well Rash,
Puor man his leg gat broken
Some way that neeght.

The fiddlers bang'd up on their legs,
Some fought, some swear, some holloed;
The lasses skurlin clamb up th' mews,
An' some slee hanniels follow'd;
Bit suon as a' this stoore was laid,
An' a' was whisht an' whiat;
Bounce down they lap, the spwort renew,
Anudder spell to try at
Their reels that neeght.

Lang sair they kevvel'd, danc'd, and sang,
An' parlish dusts they hed;
Till it began to grow nar th' teyme
'At fwoak sud gang to bed;
The breydemaids a' wi' fuslin care,
The breyde hauf yieldin' doft,
An' the blythe pair in a han' clap,
War guessend up i'th' loft,
Reeght snug that neeght.

The couple now i'th' blankets stow'd,
A swort o'th' revellan bruocies
Unsatisfied, wi' a' consent,
Went lethran down to Lucy's:
Just leyke louse nowt, they bang'd up stairs,
Th' lang room it bum'd an' thunner'd,
An' some yen'd thought t've brought down't house,
About them waddent skunner'd
Wi' noise that neeght.

Here th' better mak o' them that com,
Wi' country dances vapour'd;
But them that dought not try sec sprees,
Wi' jigs an' three reels capor'd;
Mull'd yell an' punch flew roun' leyke steyfe,
The fiddler's a' gat fuddled;
An' monny a lad their sweethearts hed
I' nuiks an' corners huddled
Unseen that neeght.

Auld Deacon wi' his puffs an' speyce,
Was there, wi' him Dog Mary,
Wi' snaps an' gingerbread galwore,
Tho' neyce fwoak ca'd them slairy;
Bit plenty nought o'th' secret knew,
An' fast their brass was wairin';
An' th' lads reeght keyn'd the lasses treat,
Wi' monny a teasty fairin',
I' dauds that day.

At last 'twas gitten wheyte fuor days,
The lavrocks shrill war whuslin',
Wheyle yen by yen wheyte daiz'd an' deylt,
O'th rwoard t'wards heame are wrustlin';
Bit some wad yet hev tother quart,
Befwore o'th' geate they'd venture,
Sea ramm'd away to Richard Rigg's,
An' leyke mad owsen enter,
Owr drunk that day.

Here a' was yae confusion thro',
Loud crackin', fratchin', swearin',
An' some o'th' hallan or th' mell deers,
Their geylefat guts war clearin.
Wheyle bacco reek beath but an' ben,
Had full'd leyke a kiln logie,
An' some that scarce could haud their legs,
War dancin'th' reels o' bogie
Stark mad that neeght.

Some heads an' thraws war stretch'd i'th' nuik,
An' loud as brawns war snowran,
Others wi' bluid an' glore a' clamm'd,
War leyke stick'd rattens glowran.
The fiddlers they i'th' parlour fought,
An' yen anudder pelted,
Tom Trimmel leyke Mendoza fierce,
Poor Tommy Baxter welted,
Reeght sair that neeght.

Wheyte tir'd at last wi' drink an' noise,
Hauf wauken an' hauf sleepin',
I heamwards fettled off mysell,
Just as the sun was peepin';
Full monny a teyme I've thought sen syne,
On that seame bidden weddin';
An' Heaven in prayer to bless that pair
Have begg'd in bwoard an' bed in,
Ever sen that day.