Notes.—­Observe ’n for han (plural), have; on’t nah, of it now; e heitin, in eating; mess a, dish of, meal of; brawis, brose, porridge; hah, how; sahwer wotcake, leavened oatcake; bur o, but I; mo, my; ma, me; tubbe oud, to be old; gers, gets; war for ware, worse for wear; o’st, I shall; think on, remember; enah, presently; nah days, nowadays; at’s, that are; dun too, treated; nor we, than we; Hallamshoir, Hallamshire, the district including Sheffield and the neighbourhood; sen, say; happen, perhaps; for’t, for the; hofe at, half of the; e them, in those; lether’d, beaten; whoile, till; clam’d (for clamm’d), starved; sooat a, sort of; anole, and all; we, with; wirligig, machine; Tom Dockin scales, scales cut out of thin rolled iron instead of being forged; bousters, bolsters (a bolster is a lump of metal between the tang and the blade of a knife); stag, stag-horn handle (?); mayn, pl. make.

MIDLAND (Group 6):  CHESHIRE.

The following extract is from “Betty Bresskittle’s Pattens, or Sanshum
Fair,” by J.C.  Clough; printed with Holland’s Cheshire Glossary,
E.D.S. (1886), p. 466.  Sanshum or Sanjem Fair is a fair held at
Altrincham on St James’s Day.

Jud sprung upo’ th’ stage leet as a buck an’ bowd as a dandycock, an’ th’ mon what were playingk th’ drum (only it wer’nt a gradely drum) gen him a pair o’ gloves.  Jud began a-sparringk, an’ th’ foaks shaouted, “Hooray!  Go it, owd Jud!  Tha’rt a gradely Cheshire mon!”

Th’ black felly next gen Jud a wee bit o’ a bang i’ th’ reet ee, an Jud git as weild as weild, an hit reet aht, but some hah he couldna git a gradely bang at th’ black mon.  At-aftur two or three minutes th’ black felly knocked Jud dahn, an t’other chap coom and picked him up, an’ touch’d Jud’s faace wi’ th’ spunge everywheer wheer he’d getten a bang, but th’ spunge had getten a gurt lot o’ red ruddle on it, so that it made gurt red blotches upo’ Jud’s faace wheer it touched it; an th’ foaks shaouted and shaouted, “Hooray, Jud!  Owd mon! at em agen!” An Jud let floy a good un, an th’ mon wi’ th’ spunge had to pick th’ blackeymoor up this toime an put th’ ruddle upo’ his faace just at-under th’ee.

  “Hooray, Jud! hooray, owd mon!” shaouted Jock Carter o’ Runjer;
  “tha’rt game, if tha’rt owd!”

  Just at that vary minit Jud’s weife, bad as hoo were wi’ th’
  rheumatic, pushed her roo{a}d through th’ foaks, and stood i’ th’
  frunt o’ th’ show.

  “Go it agen, Jud! here’s th’ weife coom t’see hah gam tha art!”
  shaouted Jonas.

  Jud turn’d rahnd an gurned at th’ frunt o’ th’ show wi’ his faace
  aw ruddle.