CORNISH DIALOGUE

AS 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 :--

'Twas Kendle teening, when jung Mal Treloare

Trudg'd hum from Bal, a bucken copper ore;

Her clathing hard and ruff, black was her eye,

Her face and arms like stuff from Cairn Kye.

Full butt she mit jung Saundry Kemp, who long

She had been token'd to, come from Ding Dong;

Hes jacket wet, his faace rud like his beard,

And through his squarded hat hes hair appeared.

She said, "Oh, Kemp, I thoft of thee well leer,

Thees naw that daay we wor to Bougheehere,

That daay with ale and cakes, at three o'clock,

Thees stuff'd me so, I jist neen crack'd me dock:

Jue said to me, 'Thee mayst depend thee life,

I love thee, Mal, and thee shust be ma wife.'

And to ma semmen, tes good to lem ma naw

Whether the words were as! in jest or no.

" Saundry. Why, truly, Mal, I like a thing did zay,

That I wud have thee next Chewiden daay.

But zence that time I bike a think ded hear

Thees went wi' some one down, 'I naw where;'

Now es that fitty, Mal? What dost think?

Mal. Od rot tha body, Saundry, who said so?

Now, faath and traath, I 'II naw afore I go;

Do lem me naw the Gossenbary dog.

Saundry. Why, then, Crull said jue wor down to Wheal Bog

With he and Tabban, and ded make some tricks

By dabben clay at jungsters making bricks;

Aand that from there jue went to Aafe-waye house,

Aand drink't some leeker. Mal, now there's down souse.

Aand jue to he, like a thing ded zay,

Jue wed have he, and I mait go away.

Mat. I tell the lubber so! Ito Wheal Bog!

I'll scatt his chacks. the emprent, saucy dog.

'Now hire me, Saundry Kemp, now down and full,

Ef thee arten hastes, thee shust hire the whole.

Fust jue must naw, tes true as thee art there,

Aant Blanch and I went to Golsinny feer.

Who overtookt us in the doosty road,

In common hum but Crull, the cloppen toad.

Zes he to Aant, "What cheer? Aant Blanch, what cheer?

Jue makes good coose, suppose jue been to feer."

"Why, hiss," zes Aant, "ben there a pewer spur.

I wedn 't a gone ef nawed ed been so fur.

I bawft a pair of shods for Sarah's cheeld."

By this time, lock! we cum jist to the field

We went to clemmer up the temberen style.

(Haw kept his eye upon me all the while.)

Zes hem to Aant, "Then whos es thees braa maide?

Come tha wayst long, dasent be afraid."

Then mov'd my side, like a thing,

Aand pull'd my mantle, and just touch'd my ching,

"How arry,jung woman?" zeshaw. "Howdost do?"

Zes I, "Jue saucy dog, what's that to jue?

Keep off, jung lad, else thees have a slap."

Then haw fooch'd some great big doat figs in me lap.

So I thoft, as haw had been so kind,

Haw might go by Aant Blanch, ef haw had a mind.

Aand so haw ded, sand tookt Aant Blanch's arm.

"Araeh!" zes haw, "I dedn't mane no harm."

So then Aant Blanch and he ded talk and jest

Bout dabbing clay and bricks at Petran feast.

Saundry. Ahab then, Ma!, 'twas there they dabbed the clay

Mal. Plaase Father, Kemp, tes true wot I do saay.

And hire me now, pla-sure, haw dedent budge

From Aanty's arm till jest this side Long Brudge

Aand then zes he to Aant, "Shall we go in

To Aafe-waye house, and have a dram of gin

And trickle mixt? Depend ol do es good,

Taake up the sweat, and set to rights the blud."

So Aant did saay, "Such things she dedn 't chuse,"

And squeezed my hand, aand bike a thing refuse.

So when we pass'd along by Wheal Bog moor,

Haw jumpt behind, and pok 't es in the door.

Haw caal 'd for gin, aand brandy too, I think.

He clunk 'd the brandy, we the gin did drink.

So when haw wish'd good night, as es the caase,

Haw kiss 't Aant Blanch, and jist neen touched my face.

Now, Saundry Kemp, there's nothing sure in this,

To my moinde, then, that thee shust take amiss.

Saundry. No, fath, then Ma!, ef this is all aand true,

I had a done the same ef I was jue.

Mal. Next time in any house I see or near am,

I'll down upon the plancheon, rat am, tear am,

Aand I will so poaw am.

Saundry. Our Kappen's there, just by thickey bush.

Hush! now Mally, hush!

Aand as hes here, so close upon the way,

I wedent wish haw nawed what he did zay,

And jett I dedent care, now fath and soul,

Ef so be our Kappen wor to hire the whole.

How arry, Kappen? Where be going so fast?

Jure goin' hum, suppose, jure in sich haste.

Kappen. Who's that than? Saundry, arten thee ashamed

To coosy so again? Thee wust be blamed

Ef thees stay here all night to prate wi' Mal!

When tel thy cour, thee wusten come to Bal

Aand thee art a Cobbe, I tell thee so.

I'll tell the owners ef thee dosent go.

Saundry. Why, harkee, Kappen, doant skoal poor I.

Touch pipe a crum, jue 'll naw the reason why.

Cozen Ma! aand I ben courtain bout afe a year.

Hould up tha head, Mal; don't be ashamed, dost hire?

Aand Crull one day made grief 'tween I and she;

But he shall smart for it now, I swear by G --.

Haw told me lies, as round as any cup.

Now Mal and I have mit, we've made it up;

So, Kappen, that's the way I stopt, I vow.

Kappen. Ahab! I dedent giss the case jist now.

But what dost think of that last batch of ore?

Saundry. Why pewer and keenly gossen, Kappen, shore

I bleeve that day, ef Frankey's pair womt drunk,

We shuld had pewer stuff too from the lump.

But there, tes all good time, as people saay,

The flooken now, aint throw'd es far away;

So hope to have bra turnrnills soon to grass.

How did laast batch down to Jandower pass?

Kappen. Why, hang thy body, Saundry, speed, I saay,

Thees keep thy clacker going till tes day.

Go speak to Mally now, jue foolish toad.

I wish both well, I'll keep my road.

Saumiry. Good nightie, Kappen, then I wishee well.

Where artee, Mally? Dusten haw hire me, Mal?

Dusent go away, why jue must think of this, B

Before we part, shore we must have a kiss.

Now then, there, good night, Mal, there's good night;

But, stop a crum.

Molly. Good night.

Kappen. Good night.

Keendle teening, candle lighting.

Squarded hat, broken or cracked hat.

Lem ma naw, let me know, tell me.

Wheal Bog, wheal, or, correctly spelt, hue!, is old Cornish, and signifies a mine of work.

Doat figs, broad figs.

A cobbe, a cobbler, a bungler.

Bra tummills, brave heaps, large piles of ore.