{"collection":"Northern European Mythology","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/neu/eng/prwe/prwe329.htm","path":"neu/eng/prwe/prwe329.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/neu/eng/prwe/prwe329.htm","text":"CORNISH DIALOGUE\nAS the Cornish dialogue peculiarly illustrates a description of literary composition which has no resemblance to that of any county, I think it advisable to give one specimen :--\nDIALOGUE BETWEEN MAL TRELOARE AND SAUNDRY KEMP.\n'Twas Kendle teening, when jung Mal Treloare\nTrudg'd hum from Bal, a bucken copper ore;\nHer clathing hard and ruff, black was her eye,\nHer face and arms like stuff from Cairn Kye.\nFull butt she mit jung Saundry Kemp, who long\nShe had been token'd to, come from Ding Dong;\nHes jacket wet, his faace rud like his beard,\nAnd through his squarded hat hes hair appeared.\nShe said, \"Oh, Kemp, I thoft of thee well leer,\nThees naw that daay we wor to Bougheehere,\nThat daay with ale and cakes, at three o'clock,\nThees stuff'd me so, I jist neen crack'd me dock:\nJue said to me, 'Thee mayst depend thee life,\nI love thee, Mal, and thee shust be ma wife.'\nAnd to ma semmen, tes good to lem ma naw\nWhether the words were as! in jest or no.\n\" Saundry. Why, truly, Mal, I like a thing did zay,\nThat I wud have thee next Chewiden daay.\nBut zence that time I bike a think ded hear\nThees went wi' some one down, 'I naw where;'\nNow es that fitty, Mal? What dost think?\nMal. Od rot tha body, Saundry, who said so?\nNow, faath and traath, I 'II naw afore I go;\nDo lem me naw the Gossenbary dog.\nSaundry. Why, then, Crull said jue wor down to Wheal Bog\nWith he and Tabban, and ded make some tricks\nBy dabben clay at jungsters making bricks;\nAand that from there jue went to Aafe-waye house,\nAand drink't some leeker. Mal, now there's down souse.\nAand jue to he, like a thing ded zay,\nJue wed have he, and I mait go away.\nMat. I tell the lubber so! Ito Wheal Bog!\nI'll scatt his chacks. the emprent, saucy dog.\n'Now hire me, Saundry Kemp, now down and full,\nEf thee arten hastes, thee shust hire the whole.\nFust jue must naw, tes true as thee art there,\nAant Blanch and I went to Golsinny feer.\nWho overtookt us in the doosty road,\nIn common hum but Crull, the cloppen toad.\nZes he to Aant, \"What cheer? Aant Blanch, what cheer?\nJue makes good coose, suppose jue been to feer.\"\n\"Why, hiss,\" zes Aant, \"ben there a pewer spur.\nI wedn 't a gone ef nawed ed been so fur.\nI bawft a pair of shods for Sarah's cheeld.\"\nBy this time, lock! we cum jist to the field\nWe went to clemmer up the temberen style.\n(Haw kept his eye upon me all the while.)\nZes hem to Aant, \"Then whos es thees braa maide?\nCome tha wayst long, dasent be afraid.\"\nThen mov'd my side, like a thing,\nAand pull'd my mantle, and just touch'd my ching,\n\"How arry,jung woman?\" zeshaw. \"Howdost do?\"\nZes I, \"Jue saucy dog, what's that to jue?\nKeep off, jung lad, else thees have a slap.\"\nThen haw fooch'd some great big doat figs in me lap.\nSo I thoft, as haw had been so kind,\nHaw might go by Aant Blanch, ef haw had a mind.\nAand so haw ded, sand tookt Aant Blanch's arm.\n\"Araeh!\" zes haw, \"I dedn't mane no harm.\"\nSo then Aant Blanch and he ded talk and jest\nBout dabbing clay and bricks at Petran feast.\nSaundry. Ahab then, Ma!, 'twas there they dabbed the clay\nMal. Plaase Father, Kemp, tes true wot I do saay.\nAnd hire me now, pla-sure, haw dedent budge\nFrom Aanty's arm till jest this side Long Brudge\nAand then zes he to Aant, \"Shall we go in\nTo Aafe-waye house, and have a dram of gin\nAnd trickle mixt? Depend ol do es good,\nTaake up the sweat, and set to rights the blud.\"\nSo Aant did saay, \"Such things she dedn 't chuse,\"\nAnd squeezed my hand, aand bike a thing refuse.\nSo when we pass'd along by Wheal Bog moor,\nHaw jumpt behind, and pok 't es in the door.\nHaw caal 'd for gin, aand brandy too, I think.\nHe clunk 'd the brandy, we the gin did drink.\nSo when haw wish'd good night, as es the caase,\nHaw kiss 't Aant Blanch, and jist neen touched my face.\nNow, Saundry Kemp, there's nothing sure in this,\nTo my moinde, then, that thee shust take amiss.\nSaundry. No, fath, then Ma!, ef this is all aand true,\nI had a done the same ef I was jue.\nMal. Next time in any house I see or near am,\nI'll down upon the plancheon, rat am, tear am,\nAand I will so poaw am.\nSaundry. Our Kappen's there, just by thickey bush.\nHush! now Mally, hush!\nAand as hes here, so close upon the way,\nI wedent wish haw nawed what he did zay,\nAnd jett I dedent care, now fath and soul,\nEf so be our Kappen wor to hire the whole.\nHow arry, Kappen? Where be going so fast?\nJure goin' hum, suppose, jure in sich haste.\nKappen. Who's that than? Saundry, arten thee ashamed\nTo coosy so again? Thee wust be blamed\nEf thees stay here all night to prate wi' Mal!\nWhen tel thy cour, thee wusten come to Bal\nAand thee art a Cobbe, I tell thee so.\nI'll tell the owners ef thee dosent go.\nSaundry. Why, harkee, Kappen, doant skoal poor I.\nTouch pipe a crum, jue 'll naw the reason why.\nCozen Ma! aand I ben courtain bout afe a year.\nHould up tha head, Mal; don't be ashamed, dost hire?\nAand Crull one day made grief 'tween I and she;\nBut he shall smart for it now, I swear by G --.\nHaw told me lies, as round as any cup.\nNow Mal and I have mit, we've made it up;\nSo, Kappen, that's the way I stopt, I vow.\nKappen. Ahab! I dedent giss the case jist now.\nBut what dost think of that last batch of ore?\nSaundry. Why pewer and keenly gossen, Kappen, shore\nI bleeve that day, ef Frankey's pair womt drunk,\nWe shuld had pewer stuff too from the lump.\nBut there, tes all good time, as people saay,\nThe flooken now, aint throw'd es far away;\nSo hope to have bra turnrnills soon to grass.\nHow did laast batch down to Jandower pass?\nKappen. Why, hang thy body, Saundry, speed, I saay,\nThees keep thy clacker going till tes day.\nGo speak to Mally now, jue foolish toad.\nI wish both well, I'll keep my road.\nSaumiry. Good nightie, Kappen, then I wishee well.\nWhere artee, Mally? Dusten haw hire me, Mal?\nDusent go away, why jue must think of this, B\nBefore we part, shore we must have a kiss.\nShe wiped her muzzle from the mundic stuf\nAnd he rub/id his, a little stain'd with snuff\nNow then, there, good night, Mal, there's good night;\nBut, stop a crum.\nMolly. Good night.\nKappen. Good night.\nKeendle teening, candle lighting.\nSquarded hat, broken or cracked hat.\nLem ma naw, let me know, tell me.\nWheal Bog, wheal, or, correctly spelt, hue!, is old Cornish, and signifies a mine of work.\nDoat figs, broad figs.\nA cobbe, a cobbler, a bungler.\nBra tummills, brave heaps, large piles of ore.","title":"Popular Romances of the West of England: Miscellaneous Stories: Cornish Dialogue","type":"page"}