dang it bloody buggerin hell this life en’t bin no dish o’ tay jus about a sop in sour grease it be save thee be one o’ they Lordyshits whoa about now you comether an look through here boy you have a peep at palace from the arse-end mind thy soul on this here barb wire don’t want to get harled up like a bloody lamb a-fleckin thy sailor toggery off agin they tangs look there see them chaps a-brevettin about the bowlin green they be lookin for a tall blade o’ grass as have gone aground aye thee’d chuckle at that Master Dannul tall blade o’ grass as have gone aground oh we’d have some laafs boy thy Mam en’t never bin one for laafs now she be like Queen Vic boy like she have a gnawin aye everlastinly rustlin black black as the Squire’s cream knacker as us old Ulver folk do say now riddle the chaff out o’ that boy riddle the chaff out o’ that aye all I remimbers be a clink clink o’ pails an a scuttlin up scarp an a smell o’ burnin gurt glitterin eye aneath moon well haaf asleep I was an only a nip same as thee Master Dannul gettin upsides wi’ all they buggers aye you med have bin in there an played the toff afore but you en’t never seed it this arsy-versy ways about hast thee now look ’ee yonder awmost to village they silver birch they calls it the Wilderness boy acause it don’t have no grass an highty-tighty flowers like a damn carpit well it weren’t no bloody wilderness afore nope my gurt-gurt-gramver were born in there no hedge-bit neither nope took they a mornin my gramver telled I to slap they homes down to a plume o’ chaak dust an faggots jus for a bit o’ garden for they Lordyshits aye an my gramver had it from her own gramver’s mouth herself boy aye oh there be us an others here as on’t never disremimber that till Doomsday boy won’t never disremimber that till the clang o’ Doom aye plough an drill an mow atop the chaak aneath en’t stirred yaa that gurt lake I remimbers nowt but turf an sheep about she now look a man can’t walk straight wi’out doin a nancy boy about they flower beds cotched a swan afore now out o’ there splish splish gurt white wings all sooty wi’ our mitts blackened up see flit flit stick her in the gullet well that were a doins an a haaf leastways a stop to thy nips howlin wi’ hunger for a month yaa have to go to shop for arn dalled thing now here be to all his Lordyshit’s jack-rabbets as have biled the pot an kep I off from sturvin well they didn’t do nowt for my old Mam boy bag o’ bones wi’ her givin us young grubs all as she was hern then stone-cartin off Top Field they flints spreethin her mitts I can see they now boy a-strokin us when I were took wi’ the scarlet one time a-foldin theyselves an prayin aye I can see they now all welted an crook tallow flame jumpin up her shadder agin the beam an all that mumblin to God as en’t never gid us nowt but sour sops aye God shed bloody rest her soul boy if so be as He have one then eh kaaaa kaaaa kaaaa hear they rooks kaaaa kaaaa an haaf a stone o’ corn in ivery one o’ they nests old Long Togs Long Togs Whiteacre Ralphy Oadam Titchy Ketchaside old Plashy Pottinger as couldn’t say owt but plash bein as he didn’t hear nowt as a babby but plashin an plashin o’ mill-wheel see an my cus Churlet Griffin more a boy wi’out a willum nor a gal an Jonas shinnin the ellums out on Frum Down dinner o’ rooks corn fluff in cake-hole while they Chammers-Lavery folk well nigh blawed theyselves at dinner us folk chokin on rook-fluff an they eatin their bloody heads off no folk not even they niggers out Africa way never had to live as us done well one while past some blokes among us did get a mite obstroppelus about it clouted a few gingins all to smash like slitted the grain out like a chicken-throat aye tell me about the Trouble Mr Perry what Master Dannul says I the whole lot over agin oh yes Mr Perry it’s topping I think haa yaa thee were allus a bloody good sort boy aye well no better nor ten year I were yit I minds us they men comin out the courthouse like it were yeserday see well my Mam’s brother Giley Griffin hollerin don’t thee be worrited chit tis only fourteen year then Johnny Cap’n Oadam wavin at us hoi hoi tis danglin for me but it shattent hold gal old Shepherd Bunce’s lad as had his flock out Bursop way don’t blubber mother tis only life they on’t be makin away wi’ me an all them fellers come out as were ploughmen an reapers an hedgers an horsemen an shearers an shepherds as you don’t git the likes of now well ploughmen as could draw a furrer plum as that horsemen as maunt turn out a team wi’out a bloom as ud blind thee on they flanks aye blind thee on they flanks an my old Mam an Auntie Ruth screamin fit to bust an all on us yowlin knockin our heads an blubberin an the nips blubberin acause they seed their Mams blubberin an squawlin aye their boots didn’t never touch no Ulver turf no more nor didn’t never squelch up Little Hangy nor go poachin tip-toe in Bayleaze nor get thick nor clamput about the yard nor get thick wi’ crossin athurt Mwile Slad nor dusted on the maiden rudge ways handlin their tools o’ their occepashins no more nor git poorly in their arn beds an have a stone anigh their heads as nips med pick blooms for an all for nowt boy all for nowt recitin thee on this now boy athout thee don’t ezackerly recalls a-lookin on that there fine house an fine garden what they tot-bellies done to kip theyselves blawed galled us with they saddles till the blood come out aye blood come out aye gid us a leg up onto the old cross good an proper boy aye banged they nails in like they were ruttin they highty-tighty wives aye yea up hup best foot forrud Master Dannul lest thee leave a fleck o’ thy soul on their drat tangs on’t never be a toff now thee on’t nope no them buggers on’t cotch thee now boy four an twenty Ulver men ne’er hollered in the coomb though morn was come an sun were up twere silent as the tomb aye so climb the hill hi-ho come climb the hill hi-ho we’ll gie the lads a milk-white steed that they med gallop home an so forth worth a pot o’ bunk an a bit o’ twist in the ale-house that patch o’ singin as shed be ater you be that dry a-roarin it nope on’t never cotch thee an turn thee to a toff now boy thee be old Hoppetty’s own now boy old Hoppetty’s own as med larn thee all to hisself dang the lot on ’em
a bit o’ hush now Jonas hup aye hup pit-a-pat over they leaves first light o’ mornin starch-stiff boy poachin this were allus my patch don’t fret too bloody old for it now that Ebby Wall yaa knows he backerds never no keeper at this time o’ aternoon never changed his beat one step old Ebby Wall Swilly Copse Bayleaze Will’s Field Longcroft Clean an Hansome Draggle Ley Six Mild Clump Grigg’s Breach Wood back up Dolman’s Lane by ten in the mornin bang on as a sun-dial boy his lad do High Ridge Wood he do love a scrap aye best not scrunch about wi’ he jus wait for peep o’ day that numbed an quiet you feels like couch-grass more’n the image o’ God when that damn bunny comes athurt an thee med let fly boy leastways thee don’t make no scrunch now Master Dannul thee’d make the toppermost poacher now boy aye reckons you goes plum through they tree-trunks like they be pillars o’ mist jus like old Shepherd Willum deep athin this green aye lookin for his lost lamb haaf ram haaf man tuppin wi’ a witch one while see tuppin wi’ a ewe see what is tuppin Mr Perry aye well what thy Mam an Dad done to get thee together boy leastways I reckons fine folk do it same as we aye well reckons as old Shepherd Willum were jus short of hole aye weren’t no witch boy shepherds git poke-starved out on they old downs casn’t damn they for it aye don’t know as they be arn big folk in Heaven anyways save nips like thee why is this Will’s Field Mr Perry it’s a jolly thick wood well didn’t used to be no copse here jus a scarp bare as thy knuckles save the grass an sheep till one o’ they Lordyshits wants to bang away wi’ his highty-tighty mates atween trees an sets to a-plantin yit old Shepherd Willum sees nowt but turf and sky look nowt but turf an sky aye rain rain pit-a-pat agin the beechen leaves boy I seed it were gettin all cluttery now thee maunt fret boy thy Mam do make a splut about thee gettin wet didn’t never do us no harm oh she did yang about thy constitushun like as if thee en’t no more nor a leaf in the wind boy blowed about like that teeny leaf in the wind there now reckons as she thinks as I got thee dowsed laas time deliberate like aye jus afore thee goed off to that scholard shop save she can’t rightly say to my head jus gives I the look from the drawin-room winder all creamy-faced an still like aye when I be doin her lawn well us allus reckoned she had coddled thee a deal too much Master Dannul an that old Eton shop jus broke thee a-two nowt to do wi’ that laas stroll nope thee runned athurt field in the storm laafin like old King George boy like thee en’t never runned wi’ the rain a-blowed agin thy face afore tip-top that be in the warm aye coddlin en’t never done a soul no good boy en’t never done a soul no good my Dad laced I summat terble never did narn no harm Master Dannul a-whackin nips to larn ’em right a bit o’ strap aye my Dad didn’t never fiddle us though like some on ’em though oh no he didn’t never filthy us nips no he never done that nope jus a dustin o’ the jacket like