Come, Matty, come, an’ cool my yed;
    Aw’m finish’d, to my thinkin’;”
  Hoo happed him nicely up, an’ said,
    “Thae’st brought it on wi’ drinkin’.”—­
  “Nay, nay,” said he, “my fuddle’s done,
    We’re partin’ tone fro tother;
  So promise me that, when aw’m gwon,
    Thea’ll never wed another!”

  “Th’ owd tale,” said hoo, an’ laft her stoo;
    “It’s rayly past believin’;
  Thee think o’ th’ world thea’rt goin’ to,
    An’ lev this world to th’ livin’;
  What use to me can deeod folk be? 
    Thae’s kilt thisel’ wi’ spreein”;
  An’ iv that’s o’ thae wants wi’ me,
    Get forrud wi’ thi deein’!”

Notes.—­Owd, old; rackless foo, reckless fool; spreein’, merry-making, drinking; _-do_, bout; He’re, he would be; crack o’ deein’ , hint at dying; Aw’s, I shall; trail, walk in; ballis-pipes, bellows-pipes, lungs; eawt, out; wynt, wind.

    Eawr, our, my; Hoo, she; brass, money; yo’n, you will;
    lev, leave; wick, quick, i.e. alive.

    Yed, head; happed, covered; fuddle, drinking-bout;
    tone fro tother, the one from the other.

    Stoo, stool; Thee think, do thou think; deeod, dead;
    o’, all; get forrud, get on, go on.

MIDLAND (Group 5):  SHEFFIELD.

The following extract is from A. Bywater’s Sheffield Dialect, 3rd ed, 1877; as quoted in S.O.  Addy’s Sheffield Glossary, E.D.S., 1888, p. xv.

Jerra Flatback. Hah, they’n better toimes on’t nah, booath e heitin and clooas; we’n had menni a mess a nettle porridge an brawls on a Sunda mo’nin, for us brekfast...  Samma, dusta remember hah menni names we had for sahwer wotcake?

Oud Samma Squarejoint. O kno’n’t, lad; bur o think we’d foive or six.  Let’s see:  Slammak wer won, an’ Flat-dick wer anuther; an’t tuther wor—­a dear, mo memra fails ma—­Flannel an’ Jonta; an-an-an-an—­bless me, wot a thing it is tubbe oud, mo memra gers war for ware, bur o kno heah’s anuther; o’st think on enah.—­ A, Jerra, heah’s menni a thahsand dogs nah days, at’s better dun too nor we wor then; an them were t’golden days a Hallamshoir, they sen.  An they happen wor, for’t mesters.  Hofe at prentis lads e them days wor lether’d whoile ther skin wor skoi-blue, and clam’d whoile ther booans wer bare, an work’d whoile they wor as knock-kneed as oud Nobbletistocks.  Thah nivver sees nooa knock-kneed cutlers nah:  nou, not sooa; they’n better mesters nah, an they’n better sooat a wark anole.  They dooant mezher em we a stick, as oud Natta Hall did.  But for all that, we’d none a yer wirligig polishin; nor Tom Dockin scales, wit bousters comin off; nor yer sham stag, nor sham revvits, an sich loik.  T’ noives wor better made then, Jerra.

  Jerra:  Hah, they wor better made; they made t’ noives for yuse
  then, but they mayn em to sell nah.