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Title: Lakeland Words A Collection of Dialect Words and Phrases as Used in Cumberland and Westmorland, with Illustrative Sentences in the North Westmorland Dialect Author: Bryham Kirkby Contributor: Joseph Wright Release Date: October 30, 2018 [EBook #58200] Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LAKELAND WORDS *** Produced by MFR, Les Galloway and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive) Transcriber’s Notes Obvious typographical errors in the plain English of this text have been silently corrected. In the main the dialect sections they remain as printed including the variation in the use of apostrophe and hyphen. In particular no attempt has been made to resolve how many of the many yan and yah are typos for each other. The words are only in approximate alphabetical order, this has not been changed. The table of contents has been added by the transcriber. The following changes have been made. AH-WOOA-GE-HEDDER-COME-UP—A nag ’at doesn’t understand its orders is apt ta git t’ whup. We yance watched a chap plewin, an’ he said, “Ah-wooa-ge-hedder-come-up” [was An] till he was stalled, then he let flee wi a clot, coad t’ nag a fiual, an’ telt it ta liuk an see what seck wark it was makkin. BLODDER—To cry in an effusive way—blodder [was bodder] an’ rooar. What’s ta blodderin aboot? BRAUN—A wild boar. “A braun [was braan] ’at hed boddert ’em neet an’ day, At last, by a butcher, was boldly shot.”—Bowness. BREAS—Beck edge. Where t’ fish dark anunder. Whitehead says: Howks grubs an’ worms fra under t’ breas, To feed t’ lal [was la] hungry troot. WIASTRY—Waistfulness. Seck wiastry [was waistry] as yan niver dud see barn; it’s fair shocken. The following have not been corrected due to ambiguity. BOTTOM—To get to the origin or foundation. Ah’ll boddum that drain oot first. Boddum that teeal. [Not clear if all bottom or all boddum.] KIRMAS-GIFT—Summat fer t’ barns. Varra oft a paper o’ pins ta laik wi’. KIRSMAS-GLASS—This is fer up-grown ’uns they tak’t warm, wi’ a bit o’ sugar tull ’t. [Probably identical, but which is correct?] LAKELAND WORDS. “The native phrase fresh gathered from the fells.” LAKELAND WORDS. A COLLECTION OF Dialect Words and Phrases, AS USED IN CUMBERLAND AND WESTMORLAND, WITH ILLUSTRATIVE SENTENCES IN THE NORTH WESTMORLAND DIALECT. BY B. KIRKBY. WITH PREFACE BY PROFESSOR JOSEPH WRIGHT, M.A., Ph.D. OXFORD. KENDAL: Printed by T. Wilson, Highgate. 1898. PRICE 2/6. “Whate’er of good the old time had was living still.” Whittier. TO THE WANDERING SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF THE LAKE COUNTRY, AND WHO, WHEREVER THEY ARE, STILL HARBOUR A LOVE FOR THE SOUND OF “T’ AULD TWANG,” THIS COLLECTION IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED. “Be it a weakness, it deserves some praise, We love the play-place of our early days; The scene is touching, and the heart is stone That feels not at that sight, and feels at none; This fond attachment to the well known place, Whence first we started into life’s long race, Maintains its hold with such unfailing sway, We feel it even in age, and at our latest day.” Cowper. “In the power of saying rude truths, sometimes in the lion’s mouth, no men surpass them.” “The more hearty and sturdy expression may indicate that the savageness of the Norsemen was not all gone.” Emerson: National Traits. “That man speaks Is nature’s prompting, whether thus or thus She leaves to you, as ye do most affect it.”—Dante. (Quoted from Farrar’s Chapters on Language.) Table of Contents PREFACE. EXPLANATORY. LAKELAND WORDS AND SAYINGS. SUPPLEMENTARY LIST. APPENDIX OF CONTRIBUTED WORDS. SCORING NUMERALS. NOTES. PREFACE. It is not necessary to speak many words in praise of such an excellent book as “Lakeland Words,” it speaks for itself, and must appeal to any and every Englishman who loves his country and his native mother tongue. It has often been said that the vocabulary of the ordinary rustic is but poor and scanty, and it is just such books as Mr. Kirkby’s which show how entirely false this statement is. Mr. Kirkby, besides, is not a mere collector, come down from London with his carpet bag to spend a few weeks in the north to pick up material for “copy,” but he has been born and bred in the country of which he writes, and he knows and understands the dialect as no one from outside could. I have had innumerable proofs of this from the vast amount of most valuable material he has contributed to the English Dialect Dictionary. There is a freshness and naturalness in his material which is not found in books written by people imperfectly acquainted with the people and the district. In these days when the Board Schools teach the children “Standard English,” and when locomotion is so easy that people readily migrate from one part of the country to another, dialects are rapidly decaying and losing their individuality, and it will soon be impossible to compile local glossaries. It is, therefore, not too much to say that Mr. Kirkby deserves the hearty commendation and thanks of every lover of English, for thus handing down to posterity such a faithful portrait of the language of the Lakeland district, in all its native freshness and richness. Joseph Wright. Oxford, January, 1899. “Man changes his dialect from century to century.” Carlyle. “Language is a solemn thing I said. It grows out of life—out of its agonies, and ecstacies, its wants and its weariness. Every language is a temple in which the soul of those who speak it is enshrined.... Foreigners who have talked a strange tongue half their lives return to the language of their childhood in their dying hours. Gentlemen in fine linen, and scholars in large libraries, taken by surprise, or in a careless moment, will sometimes let slip a word they knew as boys in homespun, and have not spoken since that time, but it lay there under all their culture. That is one way you may know the country boys.”.... Oliver Wendell Holmes. EXPLANATORY. The following pages claim to do no more than to set forth some of our best known dialect words, and to somewhat explain or illustrate their use by a sentence in which the word is introduced. So may not only the word be preserved, but something also of unity of expression be maintained at the same time. Much of the matter has gone through the pages of the Penrith Observer, in the form of weekly notes. These notes were subject to some criticism. They were the means of eliciting a good deal of help towards making the collection more complete and accurate. The method of spelling was frequently commented upon as involving an unnecessary innovation. A short explanation will, it is hoped, enable the reader to grasp it. Take such words as face, race, place, with the long a. We pronounce them as fi + as, ri + as, pli + as, with a short i sound, and the a short as in as. Words like master, plaster, become maister, plaister, with the a sounded as in pay. The long o sound is a pet aversion. Home becomes hi + am, boat as if it were boo + at, poke takes the form of poo + ak. Such words as post prove our consistency and cause many a one to get laughed at for the hasty o we assign it just as if it were copy. The deep sound of oo shows our perversity. For ow we give it place every time, hoo, thoo, doon, noo, coo, and just as readily depose it from its legitimate place in boot, soot, nook, book, which in turn become bi + ut, si + ut, ni + uk, bi + uk. Go, going, gone, we make into ga (when short), gah, gahn, gi + an, and in some extreme instances almost garn. Final ing is too affected for us, so we drop it and substitute en. Quiet we quietly convert into whiat, because q is a pet aversion in all places with us. To give a hint as to the cause of this does not come within our scope. But no one can come closely into contact with the dialect without being struck with this aspect of it. A word like hope we evade or turn it into hooap or whop, yet daup, cauf, mope, crope, show that we can master the sound if we wish, and stick to it. If we will not say blue except as blew, we make up for it in hoo and noo. If the r is our aversion, we can, as few others can, say faddr, muddr, cluddr. Having banished the ow sound from most of its legitimate places in the language, we put it in by way of amends where we can by “any manner o’ means” do so. Thus we have bowt for bolt and bought; browt for brought; bowster for bolster; cowt for colt; thowt for thought; dowter for daughter; and so on. In the present work no attempt is made to explain or account for anything of a peculiar character in the dialect. If language grows out of life, we are justified in regarding ours as a type, and those who are most familiar with the life out of which it has grown, will be most likely those to regard it most leniently. They will know something of the social habits which the fair and market, the smithy hearth, the shoemaker’s shop are dominating factors in forming. They will understand what it is to be concerned with cattle, and the elements, as others are with more mighty affairs. Out of the exigencies of ploughing, sowing, reaping, and gathering; of boon days and sale days; of shiftings and settlings; of hiring and term times they know what to expect and will not be annoyed by grossness, or deterred by affectations or their absence. In these circumstances the word collector in Lakeland will find a favourable condition for his operations if he know how to go about it. Nor need he expect because so much of life is taken up with the “struggle for existence” that the gentler and humaner phase of it will not afford him specimens, “tender and true,” as in the most refined circles. An explanation is due to Cumbrians, who will find in this collection words they did not expect, and will find omitted those they had anticipated seeing. In many matters the two counties are indeed what they are often termed—sisters. The words have largely been collected in North Westmorland, but it must be borne in mind that Penrith, to many, is to all intents as much as if it were in Westmorland, and to have given one county only in the title would have been misleading and far from accurate. This observation will apply to “Kendal side” of Westmorland too. Doctor Milner Fothergill says, “that up to Orton in Westmorland, the speech is that of Lancashire; beyond its scar it is that of Cumberland.” The genial, hearty doctor was too generous, and Cumberland as well as Lancashire would disclaim his kindness. Likeness there is no doubt towards the north, or towards the south, as the case may be, and the fells mark a cleavage more distinct than some imaginary boundary of counties, yet Westmorland men will never be prepared to be so quietly effaced until a much greater extinction of dialect speech takes place than has yet been effected, much as latter-day influences have done towards modifying its most prominent features. In the present work, such as it is, the help of Mr. Daniel Scott, editor of the Penrith Observer, has to be acknowledged, also that of “Northerner” in the same journal. The Rev. J. S. Davidson, the Rev. M. B. Parker, Mr. R. xi xii xiii E. Leech, M.A., Mr. John Harrison, Mr. Jas. Rennison, Mr. Jos. Graves, Mr. Wm. Kerr, Miss Hunter, Miss Rudd, Mrs. Fauldrew, Mr. A. Whitehead, and Mr. C. R. Farrer, with a number of correspondents in various parts, whose names never transpired, have given generous help to make the collection as comprehensive as possible. Also a very able and representative body of critics was soon en evidence to see that it was as correct as possible. The Rev. Canon Thornley, the Rev. John Wharton, and Professor Joseph Wright, M.A., were amongst those to whose suggestions is due the fact of a permanent form being given to what at first was only intended as a passing notice. To Mr. Wilson, of Kendal, I am under the special obligation of the adventurer who has help just when and where it is most wanted. From him it has ever been an easy and pleasant task to obtain advice and counsel without stint of pains or sympathy. With his aid and discrimination, many otherwise insurmountable obstacles have been overcome. Without his aid nothing of the present form could have been as much as attempted. It is earnestly hoped that the rough and ready treatment of the subject herein attempted will not in any way interfere with any of the more thorough works dealing with the same subject now in course of preparation by those capable of treating it from all standpoints as specialists. Ours is the effort to present an inside view of the dialect, marred no doubt by the leanings of prejudice, and for its worst defects the only indulgence that is asked is that it may be judged with that consideration kept in mind. It is a lover’s account, and as such must be excused. B. KIRKBY. Batley, 1898. xiv LAKELAND WORDS AND SAYINGS. AARON’S ROD—It grows e’ t’ garden. ABACK—Behind; in the absence of; over some land-mark or another. Thus, a cap hangs up aback o’ t’ door; a tale may be told about some one aback of his back; and another comes frae aback o’ t’ fells. ABACK-O-BEYONT—The place from which comes nothing but mystery and terror for barns; neea body’s bin an’ come back to say whar it ligs. ABIDE—Put up wi’; ah can’t abide mucky fooak. ABREED—Level, equal, broadcast. They war walken o’ abreed. ACOCK—Hay that is cocked up in “fiut cocks,” or, “gurt cocks”; something that is set finely, and evenly balanced; ready and eager for a fratch; a hat put on sideways; put out of temper; glib. ACOCKINECKS—Where most youthful jockeys make their first attempt at riding, namely, across the father’s neck; and later on in life as a schoolboy’s game. To ride acockinecks is regarded as fine enough for anyone. ACOS—For the reason; because. “What for dud thoo punch at my shins?” “Acos Ah thowt Ah wad see what thoo wad say if Ah dud.” ACROSS—Met with. Ah com across an auld nebbur er tweea. ACROOK—Crooked. When t’ maut gits intul a chap’s legs an’ he gahs across t’ rooad he’s gaan acriukt. ADDLE—Earn. In the sense of the word as now used in literature, “addle” has none but an exactly opposite meaning. To earn; to turn to good account; to make a living; it has nothing to do with barrenness, corruption, or rottenness. How Addle, Addlepate, Addle-head, Addle-brain, and so forth have sprung from so respectable an origin can only be conjectured. ADDLIN’, ADDLINS—Earning; wages. “Is ta addlin owt much?” “Siavin’s good addlin.” “His addlins divn’t come to mich.” “He taks miast of his addlins hiam tul his wife an’ barns.” Like Addle, Addlin’, and Addlins are of good repute in Lakeland lore. AFRONT—Before. He was on afront. AFORE—In front of; before. A gurt dub o’ watter afooar t’ door. Winter’s come afooar it time. AFORETIME—Previously: the old days. They’d hed some bother afooartime about t’ sheep an’ t’ dykes. Afooartime yan used ta be prood o’ some good poddish fer yan’s supper. AFOREHAND—Done before; he had his rent ready afooarhand. AGREE—Amiss, crossways. T’ auld piase-eggers wad sing: If ye give us nowt we’ll tak nowt agree, But we’ll gang and sail owld England’s sea. AGGLE AN’ JAGGLE—To higgle over a bargain; a bit o’ fendin an’ priuvin’ ower owt. AGATE—Started; abusing; out of the way. “Hev ye gitten agiat mowin’?” T’auld beggar’s allus agiat o’ yan er anudder on us blackin’ an’ gaan on. Ye’ve gian a lang way agiat. AGATEWARDS—Towards the gate. Said by some to be a relic from the times when savage dogs rendered it necessary for the visitor to be “set” by “t’ fauld yat.” Another and an older reason than savage dogs still keeps the custom of “settin’ yan anudder agateards” alive, and is likely to do, so long as lads and lasses care for one another’s company. 1 2 AIBLINS—Possibly. Will ye gang o’ Sunday? Aiblins ah may. AH-WOOA-GE-HEDDER-COME-UP—A nag ’at doesn’t understand its orders is apt ta git t’ whup. We yance watched a chap plewin, an’ he said, “Ah-wooa-ge-hedder-come-up” till he was stalled, then he let flee wi a clot, coad t’ nag a fiual, an’ telt it ta liuk an see what seck wark it was makkin. AHINT—Behind. Allus keep ahint a shutter. Thoo can git on ahint me an’ hev a ride. We’re a lang way ahint wi oor wark. AJYE—O’ yah side as some fooak weear their hats. AIM, AIMED—Intend, intended. We didn’t aim ye to know. Ah’d aimed ye to stop an’ hev a cup o’ tea. AIR, AIRED—To warm or dry. Air t’ bed; air mi shirt. A drop of aired milk. AIRIN’—Showing off. He was arin’ hissel oot in his majesty. AKEEN—Related. They’re nowt akeen ta yan anudder. Siam as Rag Mary, akeen ta o’ t’ gurt fooak. ALLODIN—Not in regular employment, but looking for an engagement. This is a gay auld farrand word an’ taks us back a lang way. ALLY-COM-PANNY—A game. Rhyme—Ally-com-panny When ’ll ta marry? When apples and peers is ripe Ah’ll come ta thi wedden, Without any bidden, An’ dance wi t’ bride at night! ALL-OWERISH—A feeling of general weakness or ailment. Ah nobbut feel a bit o’ owerish ta-day, ah’s o’ ower alike. ALLEY—An alabaster marble, with which boys play. Hoo many marvels hes thoo? Ten potteys and three alleys. ALLEY—A passage between the rows of seats in a hall or building. We can walk doon t’ alley. ALAG—Leaning; on one side. That hoose side’s varra mich alag. T’carful o’ hay gat o alag. Set t’stee mair alag, i.e. give it a bit more “skatch.” ALAG—A “call” used when necessary to disturb a flock of geese. ALLAY—Guarantee. Allay yer tired? It is used frequently to affirm an answer that is anticipated. AMPLE-ORDER—In perfect condition and ready. O’s e’ ample order fer t’ weddin. AMANG-HANDS—In the midst of other and various duties. We’re thrang wi t’ hay and howin’ turnips amang-hands. She was weshen’, an’ biaken’, an’ singen’ amang-hands fer t’ barns. ANEATH—Below. Price o’ floor’s a gay bit aneath what it yance was. ANENT—Alongside. He could shear his rig anent a man. Directly opposite. We sat anent yan anudder. ANO—Too; as well. Thee gang wi us ano. ANKLE-BANDS, ANKLE-BELTS, ANKLE-STRAPS—Shoes or slippers provided with a strap to fasten around the ankle to keep them on. Fer dancin’ in thers nowt better ner a pair o’ ankle straps. ANKLE-JACKS—Shoes that come over the ankle, and which have a long front quarter, like those worn by soldiers. He’d a pair o’ ankle jacks fer t’ Sundays. 3 ANGRY—Nay, nut mad, ner vexed, but inflamed an’ sair like a kin, er a frozen teea. This word illustrates the divergence there is in the use of words in the literary and dialect senses. ANTRES—In case; providing. Tak yer top cooat antres it rains. ANUNDER—Beneath. Did thoo see that fish gang anunder t’ breea? A-NAG-BACK, A-FIUT—Are ye gaan a-nag-back, er ye’ll gang afiut? Riding or walking. Afoot is also often used to signify well, and up afiut. APODE—Ah’s warn’t; dare be bund; daresay. Ye’ve hed some fash wi’ that barn, Ah’ll apode it ye hev. APRIL-GOWK—April-fool. A person who is betrayed into some senseless errand, or action, and then informed that he’s an April gowk and that it is the first of April. APPLE-PIE-ORDER—Neatly arranged. We’ve o’ e’ apple-pie-order fer sitten doon ta t’ tea. ARCH-WHOL—A hole in the wall of a building in which sparrows build and light and air pass through. ARK—Meal chest. Many hands mak’ leet’ wark An’ many mooths a tium ark. ARM-WHOL—The arm pits. Ah’s as sair as can be i’ t’ arm-whol. The opening in a coat or waistcoat through which the arm is passed. ARRALS—A skin disease, also known as ring-worm, and said to be contracted by contact with cattle. Ah’ve t’ arrals on mi arm, an’ Ah want some copperas ta puzzen it wi’. ARRANT—Thoroughly bad. He’s an arrant auld slenk. ARRAN’-WEB—Cobweb. T’ baulks was hung wi’ arran’ webs. ARR, ARR’D—Scar or seam left on the skin by a wound or disease. He’d a gurt ugly arr on his broo whar t’ nag hat him. It maks fooak varra kenspeckle when they’re seea pock arr’d. ART—Quarter. What art’s t’ wind in? It’s in a wet art. What art er ye frae? This yan’s a gem o’ purest watter an’ varra near as auld as oor auld hills an’ whols. Lang let it stop. ARVAL-BREAD—Loaves distributed at funerals. ARVAL-SUPPER—An entertainment or feast given at funerals. AS TIGHT—As well. Thoo mud as tight whissle as sing. AS LEAVE—As soon. Ah’ as leave gang as stop. AREED—Solve; guess. Areed me this riddlin. ASS-TRUG—See ass-boord. ASS—Ashes, an’ ashes is burnt muck, cinders, er owt else ’at’s bin throo t’ fire. ASS, AX—Ask. Ass that body fer a drink o’ milk. ASIDE—Near. Whar’s t’ cowrak? It’s clooas aside o’ ye. ASIDE—Ta “ride aside” means to ride as t’ ladies do—aside. Ta sit o’ yah side o’ t’ nag nobbut; they’ve saddles a purpose fer t’ job i’ some spots. 4 ASK—An ask’s a lizzard; ther’s yan i’ t’ pond. ASKATCH—In rearing a ladder against a wall if the bottom is set well from the wall “it’s far eneuf askatch.” One who stands with his feet apart, or walks with them well set out has plenty o “skatch.” ASS, ASSED, ASSINS—Them ’ats gaan ta git wedded know gaily weel, marry, what it is ta be assed. Ass some o’ them, an’ they’ll liuk as sheepish as asses. ASS-CAT—A chap ’at croodles ower ’t fire when it’s a bit cauld is an ass-cat. As grey as an ass-cat—i.e. a cat ’at cronks under t’ ass-whol, an’ gits mucky wi’ burnt muck. ASS-BOORD—A chap was tellin’ anudder what a ass-boord is, an’ he said it was a sooart of a wheel-barrow, nobbut it hed neea trunnle, neea legs, an’ neea stangs tult, an’ it was used ta gedder muck in. He mud a bin farder rang. ASS-GRATE—An iron grate ’at fits t’ ass-whol, an’ keeps t’ barns frae tummelin’ in. ASS-MIDDEN—T’ heap o’ burnt muck. Nearly ivvery hoose hes yan tul itsel, an’ varra few fooak but sailors ivver git a mile away frae yan o’ somebody’s. ASS-MUCK—Ivverybody knows what ass-muck is; it izzant up ta mich fer nowt. ASS-NIUK—In miast hooses there’s t’ hood niuk, an’ t’ ass-niuk yut, but ther nut what they used ta be, an’ ther gitten grand neeams for them. Ther’s nin o’ them can beat oors yut, we’ll stick ta er awn auld ass-niuk a bit langer. ASS-WHOL—T’ gurt whol i’ t’ fleear whar t’ burnt muck drops intul oot ’at t’ fire. ASSLE-TOOTH—A cruncher or molar is an assle-tiuth, an’ it’s grand when yan o’ them warks i’ t’ neet when yan sud be asleep. ASSLE-TREE—Ivvr’y cart wheel has yan tul itsel, and revolves on it’s awn assle-tree, an’ that’ll be what t’ world gahs on it’s awn axis for I expect. ASSOON—To fo assoon ’s a bad sign. It means yer wankly, or else ye’ve hed a gay hard knock ower t’ cannister, an’ it’s miad ye faint, an’ silly. ASLANT—Sloping, it izzant thunner rain, it co’s aslant. ASTRADDLE—Astride, siam as Rag Mary used ta ride on a stick, an’ somebody sed tul her, “What, yer ridin’ ta- day, Mary?” “Aye,” sez Mary, “but it’s nobbut t’ niam o’ t’ thing.” ASTOOP—Bent with age, pain, or labour. He begins ta gang sair astoop, is said with a sympathetic tone that often implies much when tokens of decay are discerned. ASWINT—Streck across frae yah corner tul annuder, yan sometimes gahs aswint a pasture; an’ yah auld chap used ta tell t’ tial aboot anudder ’at ’cot his pie crust aswint an’ t’ maister tel’t him he “was warse ner a ninny-hammer to cut his crust aswint.” ATTER—A spider. ATTER-COB—A spider’s web. ATTER-MITE—A lal spider on t’ watter. AT, ET, IT, UT—That; who; which. That’s t’ rooad ’at leads ta Peerith. Yon dog’s an auld slenk, ’et is ’t. He went t’ way ’it he thowt best. It izzant allus fer t’ best ’ut yan does things. ATWINE—Oot ov a streyt line, owder up a hill, er doon yan. ATWIST—When yan’s fishin’ tome gits hankled siam as threed. 5 6 ATWEEN—Between. Nivver thee gang atween neeabody ats feiten, let them feit it oot says Ah. AUMRY—The office or lodgings of the almoner; also the place where the alms are given; a pantry. AVERISH—Greedy, or hungry and eating in a guiversome manner. Tak thi time an’ divn’t be seea averish. AVISED—Black-avised like a man that gits oot o’ bed on t’ wrang side, or gets his fias smeared with grime. A good old standing phrase that often hits off a description when more refined expressions would fail. AW-MACKS—Goodstuff of mixed varieties. A ho’perth o’ aw-macks. AWN, AWNY—The beard of barley, awny wheat, &c. AWOVVER—An affirmation. Ah wadn’t deea seea, awovver. AWMUS—An awmus dish is what they tak t’ toll in at t’ market, but what aboot t’ mooths like an awmus? Lads at t’ skiul when they want ta beg a bite o’ yan anudder’s apple, er peer, as’ fer an awmus. It’s becos it’s a sooart ov a takkin’ an’ givin’ nowt back, like miast o’ tolls, Ah reckon. AWVISH—Seekly an’ silly, like a fellow at’s bin on t’ rant. AYONT—Beyond. We set him a lang way ayont t’ fower rooad-ends. AYE—Fer ivver an’ ivver an’ aye means a gay lang while. AYE—Aye, whia, what noo? Aye of course means “yes,” but it means a lot more. It asks questions and answers them, as well as puts them by. One well skilled in humanity’s little traits tells us that the use of this monosyllable will stick to a man longer than any other, and he could locate a man’s origin by it’s use to a few miles. Aye’s a lal un, but it’s a sticker. BAIT—Grain ov a booard that’s yah mak o’ bait. BACK-CAN—A can to strap on the back an’ carry milk in. BACK-END—That is autumn. BACKIN—Cotton wool; cotton backin. Neea doot becos it does fer backin up hollow pleeaces. Ass a tailior or a manty-makker. BACON-COLLOP—A bacon-collop an’ a pint o’ coffee—hoo’s that fer a dish? BACON-FLICK—A picture ta hing up in a chimly niuk. It’s miad oot ov a pig’s carcase when it’s been fed weel an’ butched. BACK-SET—To throw backwards in growth or improvement. To be forced or fast. He gat cauld an’ it gev him a back-set. We’re back-set an’ fooar-set, an’ can’t stir a pin. BARK—Skin. T’ sun’s burnt o’ t’ bark off mi nooas. BACK-SIDE—Behind the house. Come an’ laik i’ oor back-side. The hinder parts. BASH—A nasty ugly wallop. It catcht me a bash fair i’ t’ ee. BACON-STAVE—A plaster made from a bacon collop. Anybody wi a sair throat try yan, an’ sleep wi’ ’t on. BACKSTUN, BACKSTUN-CAKE, BACK’US—Ah fancy t’ “bake-stone” ’s aboot oot o’ date, nobbut at haver- breed time, but a backstun-ciak ’s as good, if it is biaked on t’ girdle. Thers backs as briad as a backstun, an’ mooths as wide as a backus door. BAD—Past of bid. He bad a ten pun nooat fer t’ Galloway. 6 7 BADGER—See batch-carrier. A buyer up of eggs an’ butter. BADGER—Brow-beat. He pot up wi’ ther tricks as lang as they did nowt nobbut badger him. BADGER—“As grey ’s a badger” ’s a common sayin’ wi’ them as hez nivver seen yan. BAD-WORD—Abuse. He gat t’ bad-word fra t’ maister. BADLY—Ill. As many a lad’s bin wi’ his first pipe o’ bacca er pint o’ yal. It’s cappin how lads ’ll punish thersels to “smell like a man,” as yan o’ them yance sed. BAIN—T’ nearest way to a place, or to do a job. It’s as bain be t’ rooad. That ’ll be t’ bainest way o’ deein it. BARKT—Bruised. Ah barkt mi shins again t’ deur step. BAIT—A meal, or refreshments. A scholar’s lunch. To feed horses whilst they are working; or herd t’ kye i’ t’ looanen’s as they’re garn tult t’ paster, is ta let them bait. BALDERDASH—Queer talk. Thoo talks nowt nobbut a heap o’ balderdash. It izzant exactly leein’, but riapin’ on wi’ a lot o kelderment ’ats neea truth it ’t, an’ less good. BAWTY-BAWT—Dog name. BAGS—Entrails. BACK-WATTER—In financial straits. It’s best ta keep oot o’ back-watter. An’ a mill wheel’s i’ back-watter when it’s tail bund wi’ a fliud. BAG-’O-TRICKS, BOILIN’, BUNCH, BUNDLE—These o’ mean yah thing—an’ that is o’ t’ lot. Git oot o’ mi giat o’ t’ bag o’ tricks on ye. They’re varra oft used wi’ nut mich sense at o’. BAIRNEY, BAIRNISH—Old age childishness. BAMBOOZLE—Kick’t aboot an’ bamboozl’d wi’ iv’ry yan o’ them. Miad gam on. BAND—Tether. He’s hed ower mich band. BAND—A high place on a hill—Silver Band on Crossfell, Bowfell Band, &c. BALKS—Thrown ower t’ balks—ass’d ta’ t’ Kirk; spurr’d; garn to be wedded. BALKS-HEN—Whar t’ hens roost. BANDY-LEGGED—Short legged, and bowed. BANE—Ah yance fand a lal bottle, an’ t’ auld woman said it hed rattan bane in. Ah guess it war puzzan. BARE—Scrimpy; hardly. It’s bare weight. It’s bare three mile ta Shap. BARGEST—An uncanny visitant often talked about but seldom seen or heard. One who has the power of foretelling the demise of others. One who makes an unearthly din. Shut up, thoo gurt bargest, thoo! Lal ’uns ’at’s aboot ther teeth er oft telt ta be whiat an’ gah ta sleep, er t’ bargest ’ll tak them, an’ seea they allus think o’ t’ bargest as summat flaysome. BARKEN—To clot like blood on a bandage, or to “set in” like dirt on the skin. BARLEY—Ween a lad wants ta claim t’ dumplin end he says, “barley me t’ dumplin end, mudder,” an’ neea body else hez any chance tult. Ther’s a lot a things i’ this world ’at yan wad like ta barley. BARNS—Youngsters. 8 BATE—To take from a stated price. Te banter. He wad’nt bate a ho’penny. Ah couldn’t bate him a plack. BATED—Ceased. T’ rain’s nivver bated a bit sen it started. BATCH—A sack of meal. A baking of bread—barley-meal. Nowt’s sweeter ner a bit o’ het batch-ciak, buttered. BATCH—Bundle; number; band. Ah’ll feit o’ t’ batch for a quart o’ yal. Ther’s a batch o’ rattans o’ tagidder. They o’ went i’ yah batch. BATCH-CARRIER—A miller’s carter. Ivv’ry-body’s hed a ride wi’t’ batch-carrier amang his batches at some turn er anudder. BARK—A can ta hod can’les in. BATTER—An embankment. BARNEY—A deceitful transaction in trade or in sport. BARNEY-DOO—A made up thing. Two wrestlers who do not fairly contest, but agree which is to fell, are said to mak a barney-doo on ’t. Neea body likes a barney-doo ower weel, ’speshally if they’ve owt on. BARROW, BARROW-COAT—What they don lal babbies in ta keep ther bits o’ legs an’ bodies warm. BASIL—A sheep’s skin dressed into leather, for the aprons of smiths, shoemakers, &c. BASH—A hurry. He was gaan ower t’ fell at seck a bash. BASHED—Broken by force. He bashed t’ lid off wi’ his clog. He gat his teeth bashed doon his throat. BASS—Rushes, seck as they use ta boddum chairs wi. BAT-I-BO—Pize-bo. Ah fancy sum ’ll ken best, but it’s o’t siam t’ lads knows when it’s time to laik at it, whedder it’s bat-i-bo, pize-bo, or tennis. BAT-STREEA—Thrash with a flail, an’ net deea’t ower hard, seea as ther’ll be summat left in fer t’ nags er t’ kye. BAT—The forward stroke a mower strikes each time with his scythe. A blow. A winged animal. A high speed—an’ a lot mair things too numerous to mention. BAT—Alighted. Mi feet shot oot frae anunder mi, an’ Ah bat fair o’ mi heed an’ shooders. His neck oot o’ joint, an’ his beaynes were aw broken, When at t’ bottom he bat wi’ tremendous crash.—Whitehead. BAT-AN’-BREED—The ground that a mower covers with each stroke of his scythe, bat being in front of him and breed on each side. He could tak’ a ter’ble bat an’ a famous gurt breed an’ aw. BANG, BANGIN-ABOOT—Clatter. He flang him doon wi’ a ter’ble bang. Bangin-aboot means when t’ pots an’ things are skifted wi’ somebody ’at’s in a bit ov a hig aboot summat an’ maks a lot o’ noise an’ show. BANGED—Beat. “They bang’d o’ t’ player fooak twenty ta yan.” BANG INTULT—Bang intult an git it ower, when a hard day’s darrak’s in front o’ yan, t’ best way to gang aboot it— bang intult. BARK—A short troublesome cough. Thoo’ll be barken o’ neet. BANG UP AN’ DOON—A chap ’at’s ebben up an’ doon in o’ his ways an’ dealins wi’ his nebburs is sometimes said ta be a bang up an’ doon chap, an’ it’s a blessin’ ’at ther’s a lot left amang us. BANDYLAN—A woman wi a queer character—nobbut. 9