Page:Folk-lore - A Quarterly Review. Volume 2, 1891.djvu/158

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Legends of the Cars.

Boggarts and Will-o'-tha-Wykes, an' sich loike; voices o' deed folks, an' hands wi'outen airms, that came i' tha darklins, moanin' an' cryin an' beckonin' all night thruff; todlowries dancin' on tha tussocks, an' witches ridin' on tha great black snags, that turned to snakes, an' raced about wi' 'em i' tha watter; my word! 'twor a stra-ange an' ill place to be in, come evens.

Folk wor gey skeered on un nat'rally, an' wouldna goo nigh un wi'outen a charm o' some sort, just a witches pink or a Bible-ball, or the loike o' that. A'll tell thee 'bout them another toime. Tha shook wi' froight, a tell thee, whan tha found their sels i' tha Cars at darklins. For sartain, tha wor mostly shakin i' they toimes; for tha agur an' fever were terrible bad, an' thar wor poor weak crysoms, fit for nowt but to soop gin an' eat op'um. In ma young days, we'd all tha agur; tha women ower tha fire, tha men out i' tha garth, even tha bairns had tha shakes reg'lar. Ay mebbe, tha's better off noo, but a don't know, a don't know, tha's lost Tiddy Mun. Weel, weel. Tha kenned foine that tha fever an' agur comed fra tha bogs, but so come as tha heerd tell, that tha ma-ashes mun be drained as tha ca' it, tha wor sore miscontented, for tha wor used to un, an' ther feythers afore em', an' tha thowt, as tha sayin' is, bad's bad, but meddlins wuss.

Tha tell't un fine tales, 'at tha mists 'ud lift, an' tha bogs 'ud come i'tha molds, an' th'ud beno'on agur; but tha misliked tha changement, an' wor main fratched wi' tha Dutchies, who comed across tha seas for tha delvin.

Tha folk would na give tha Duchies vittles, or beddin', or fair words; no'on let 'em cross tha door-sill; an' tha said to each ither, tha said, as t'ud be ill days for the Cars, an' tha poor Car-folk, so-be tha bog-holes wor meddled wi', an' "Tiddy Mun" wor unhapped.

For thee know'st, Tiddy Mun dwelt in tha watter-holes doun deep i' tha green still watter, an' a comed out nobbut of evens, whan tha mists rose. Than a comed crappelin out i'tha darklins, limpelty lobelty, like a dearie wee au'd