as wa'alks i' th' spinney nigh wheer a dool, an' theer wor a lad wi' ne'er a he'ad on un 'at ma mother seed, whan a wor a maid. An o' Yule, ther's a loight as is car't aba'out th' ta'own, on'y none can't see th' han' as car's it; an' ef 't stops at a doorsil', summun 'll die i' that ha'ouse afore th' year's a'out.
Theer's lots o' ta'ales 'ba'out bogles o' that sort, but th' aren't purty, th' aren't creepy, loike th' Moon ta'ale 's a towd tha on. A likes th' creepy wans, do'ant thou? An' a can't sort o' min' they so't; they's nobbut wimmen an' loights an' things, an' no sense in 'em. But theer, a'd rawther not meet wi' 'm fur ahl that! A guess they be fearsome to see, ef ther nobbut silly to yarken to.
Ay, a mind wan ta'ale 'ba'out a de'ad man, but t'aint much; but ef thou loike
It's mebbe on'y a ta'ale, fur a guess fo'ak do'an't know 's what 'll coom to 's when we'r' de'ad; leastwise, 'cep' what th' pa'asson says, an' that's mebbe true!
Annywa'ays, tha towd ma as theer wor a lad—gran'ther ca'alled un Sam'l—as wor brunt to de'ath, an' ahl gan' to ashes, an' mebbe cinders. But mebbe 'n while, a got oop—th' inside o' un, a me'an (thou unnerstan'?) an' gin 'sel' a sha'ake, an' thowt what a mun do nex', fur nat'rally a worn't used to things, an' a wor kin' o' stra'ange loike. An' 'twould be so't o' quare, a reckon—lots o' bogles an' things ahl 'ba'out un. Mebbe a wor a bit fe'ared-loike to fust. Wall, by-'n'-by, suthin' said to 'n:
"Thou mun goo in th' yarth-pla'ace, an' tell th' Big Wo'm 's thou's de'ad, 'n' axe un fur to hev tha ate oop, or thou'll niver rest i' tha mools."
"Mun a?" says th' lad. "Wal', a'm willin'."
So a gan' on, axin' 's wa'ay, an' rubbin' showthers wi' ahl th' horrid things 's glowered roun' 'ba'out 'im.
An' by-'n'-by a coom to a gra'at pla'ace wheer 't wor da'ark, wi' glimmerin' loights crossin' 't, an' full o' a yarthy smell loike th' mools o' spring, an' whiffs o' a ahful stink, as 'd to'n un sick 'n' feared; an' unnerfoot wor creepin'
