Page:Folk-lore - A Quarterly Review. Volume 2, 1891.djvu/464

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Legends of the Lincolnshire Cars.

An' a swallered th' last bit, an' th' lad vvor all go'an, an' 'd got awa'ay f'um th' gal to last.

An' that's ahl.



ROUGH NOTES.

Not quite sure if remember—think can tell as told me. Once was a lad—fond of girls—couldn't keep away from petticoats. Came round corner "kerbang" on girl washing herself—swore he'd wed her, if she'd follow him. She makes him swear—he does it "ower th' lef shouther". In church, she says. Says he will, "if ever he goes in" (aside). Threatens to "forespell" him if he doesn't. He says, "Mout th' wo'ms eat ma ef a don't"—"Bound do it anyway"—and children fly away—"no great matter" (aside). So they went on—came to church—girl wants to go in. He says no, parson hunting. Go on to next church—says, "No; parson's tipsy, and clerk's drunk." She says might wed them for all that. He kicks her. Meet a tailor—ask him for the master. "Down-by". Meet wise woman plaiting straws. "Wheer's au'd mun?" "Down-by." Come to cottage, knock—no answer, go in — old man asleep on bed. Lad takes axe, brains him, chops feet and hands—throws out of window. Cleaned place—lit fire. Wise woman tries to steal corpse. "Hi, that's mine." "I'll bury it." "No, do 't masel'." "I'll stand by." "No, do better alone." "Give axe instead." "No, might need it." "None give, none have; red hand, lying lips." He buries corpse—leaves arm sticking up—feet and hands to the pigs. Says to gal, "Get cony; you keep house." Girl diddle-daddles—pigs squeal. "What's amiss?" Dead feet say, "We trample pigs—bury us." She does. Pigs die. "What's matter?" Dead hands say, "Choking pigs—bury us." She does. They call—she goes. Say, "Can't feel body—must be buried by it, or haunt her." She does. Lad comes home. "Where's childer?" "Gathering berries." "In spring?" Night comes. "Where's childer?" "Fishing." "Baby too?" Morning—wakes her suddenly. "Where's childer?" "Flown away." "You go too." Chops her—puts under bed. Children come back. "Where's mother?" "Buying bacon." "With flitches here?" "Wheer's mother?" "Seeking you." "We here?" Crowd round bed. "Where's mother?" "Under bed!" They pull her out—weep—chop him up too. He gets up—shakes. Girl up too—"wi' long claws out"—gibbering—eyes green. He runs—she runs after—claws out—tickle his neck—longs to choke him.

He calls thunder—strike him dead. "No, dead already." To fire, "Burn ma oop." "No, 'chill o' death' put out fire." Water, "Drown ma blue." "No, dead blue already." Axe, "Cut throat." Wouldn't. Went to ground, calls worms—great worm comes—