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| Under Th' Owd Tree This delightful little extract from Waugh neatly explains the virtue of Lancashire dialect, besides showing great touches of Lancashire humour and the philosophy of self-reliance. The haymaker is sitting under the tree enjoying a well-earned thirst-quencher at the end of a hot day with the scythe. From: Edwin Waugh, ‘Tufts of Heather’ Waugh’s Complete Works, vol V. Printed in 1882 by John Heywood, Manchester; ‘Under Th’ Owd Tree (pp. 308-310)
(A wayworn tramp comes creeping up from the road, and sits down upon the bench to rest. The haymaker looks at him a bit, and then begins to talk to him). “Thou’s never bin here afore?”
“Yigh, I have.”
“I’ve never sin’ tho!”
“I wur nobbut four year owd when I wur here afore.”
“Oh, nawe! … Well; an’ con thou remember bein’ four year owd?”
“Ay; I con.”
“Well, by th’ mass! … Why, I connot remember what time I went to bed last neet! (The tramp gropes in his pocket, and then looks about the floor.) What arto seechin’?”
“A pipe.”
“What mak of a pipe?”
“A little wood un, o’ perpetrated wi’ holes.”
“O’ perpetrated wi’ holes?” (Stares at the tramp.) How owd arto?”
“I’se be thirty-five come Thar-cake Monday.”
“Thou’rt getting’ on, owd lad … An’ what arto co’de?”
“I’m co’de Nathan o’ Switcher’s; but mi gradeley name’s Fuzzbo’.”
“Fuzzbo’, eh? Ay, an’ a good name, too … Well, - I’ll tell tho what, - if I wur thee, Fuzzbo’, - I’d give o’er usin’ these one-an’-ninepenny words, - an’ stick to nice little round uns,- they’re better to manage, - an’ they come’n in chepper. There’s a good deal o’ serviceable talk to be getten out o’ little words, weel-sorted, an’ sarve’t up nicely. (The tramp looks about the floor again.) What arto seechin’ now?”
“I’m seechin’ some cheese an’ loaf, an’ a pint o’ ale.”
“Hasto ony brass?
“I’ve a hawpenny.”
“I see … Conto wortch ony, to ony sense?”
“I’ve been poorly!”
“Thou’s bin poorly a good while, bi th’ look on tho.”
“Ay; a good while.”
“Ay; an’ thou’ll tak a deeol o’ curin’. What trade arto?”
“I sarve’t mi time to makin’ skewers for butchers.”
“Ay; an’ a good trade, too…. I dar say thou’s turn’t o’er a deal o’ brass i’ thi time.”
“Ay; I’ve sin better days.”
“Ay; I guess so. … An’ thou’ll see ‘em again afore augh’t lung, - if thou’ll behave thisel’. … Doesto know onybody about here?”
“Nawe; but there’s an uncle o’ mine lives about five mile off.”
“Has he ony brass?”
“He’s as poor as a crow.”
“Keep o’ thi own side then! … I’ve a bit of a manchet i’ mi pocket, here, - if that’ll do tho ony good, thou’rt welcome. Here! Now, give o’er cockin’ thi little finger, - an’ get agate o’ makin’ skeweres as soon as thou con! An’ so, good day to tho! My ale’s done; an’ I’m off!”
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