Winter: Eclogue—A Ghost
Jem an’ Dick.
JEM.
This is a darkish evenen; b’ye a-feaerd
O’ zights? Theaese leaene’s a-haunted, I’ve a heaerd.
DICK.
No, I be’nt much a-feaer’d. If vo’k don’t strive
To over-reach me while they be alive,
I don’t much think the dead wull ha’ the will
To come back here to do me any ill.
An’ I’ve a-been about all night, d’ye know,
Vrom candle-lighten till the cock did crow;
But never met wi’ nothen bad enough
To be much wo’se than what I be myzuf;
Though I, lik’ others, have a-heaerd vo’k zay
The girt house is a-haunted, night an’ day.
JEM.
Aye; I do mind woone winter 'twer a-zaid
The farmer’s vo’k could hardly sleep a-bed,
They heaerd at night such scuffens an’ such jumpens,
Such ugly naises an’ such rottlen thumpens.
DICK.
Aye, I do mind I heaerd his son, young Sammy,
Tell how the chairs did dance an’ doors did slammy;
He stood to it—though zome vo’k woulden heed en—
He didden only hear the ghost, but zeed en;
An’, hang me! if I han’t a’most a-shook,
To hear en tell what ugly sheaepes it took.
Did zometimes come vull six veet high, or higher,
In white, he zaid, wi’ eyes lik’ coals o’ vier;
An’ zometimes, wi’ a feaece so peaele as milk,
A smileless leaedy, all a-deck’d in silk.
His heaeir, he zaid, did use to stand upright,
So stiff’s a bunch o’ rushes, wi’ his fright.
JEM.
An’ then you know that zome’hat is a-zeed
Down there in leaene, an’ over in the meaed,
A-comen zometimes lik’ a slinken hound,
Or rollen lik’ a vleece along the ground.
An’ woonce, when gramfer wi’ his wold grey meaere
Wer riden down the leaene vrom Shroton feaeir,
It roll’d so big’s a pack ov wool across
The road just under en, an’ leaem’d his hoss.
DICK.
Aye; did ye ever hear—vo’k zaid 'twer true—
O’ what bevell Jack Hine zome years agoo?
Woone vrosty night, d’ye know, at Chris’mas tide,
Jack, an’ another chap or two bezide,
‘D a-been out, zomewhere up at tother end
O’ parish, to a naighbour’s house to spend
A merry hour, an’ mid a-took a cup
Or two o’ eaele a-keepen Chris’mas up;
Zoo I do lot ‘twer leaete avore the peaerty
’D a-burnt their bron out; I do lot, avore
They thought o’ turnen out o’ door
‘Twer mornen, vor their friendship then wer hearty.
Well; clwose ageaen the vootpath that do leaed
Vrom higher parish over withy-meaed,
There’s still a hollow, you do know: they tried there,
In former times, to meaeke a cattle-pit,
But gie’d it up, because they coulden get
The water any time to bide there.
Zoo when the merry fellows got
Just overright theaese lwonesome spot,
Jack zeed a girt big house-dog wi’ a collar,
A-stannen down in thik there hollor.
Lo’k there, he zaid, there’s zome girt dog a-prowlen:
I’ll just goo down an’ gi’e’n a goodish lick
Or two wi’ theaese here groun’-ash stick,
An’ zend the shaggy rascal hwome a-howlen.
Zoo there he run, an’ gi’ed en a good whack
Wi’ his girt ashen stick a-thirt his back;
An’, all at woonce, his stick split right all down
In vower pieces; an’ the pieces vled
Out ov his hand all up above his head,
An’ pitch’d in vower corners o’ the groun’.
An’ then he velt his han’ get all so num’,
He coulden veel a vinger or a thum’;
An’ after that his eaerm begun to zwell,
An’ in the night a-bed he vound
The skin o’t peelen off all round.
‘Twer near a month avore he got it well.
JEM.
That wer vor hetten [=o]'n. He should a let en
Alwone d’ye zee: 'twer wicked vor to het en.
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