'll swop wi' him my poor deead horse for his wick,(4)
An' if Tommy I nobbut can happen to trap,
'T will be a fine feather i' Abraham cap!

So to Tommy he goes, an' the question he pops:
"Betwin thy horse and mine, prithee, Tommy, what swops?
What wilt gie me to boot? for mine's t' better horse still?"
"Nowt," says Tommy, "I'll swop even hands, an' ye will!"

Abey preached a lang time about summat to boot,
Insistin' that his were the liveliest brute;
But Tommy stuck fast where he first had begun,
Till Abey shook hands, an' said, Well, Tommy I done!

"O! Tommy," said Abey, "I's sorry for thee,
I thowt thou'd hae hadden mair white i' thy ee;
Good luck's wi' thy bargain, for my horse is deead."
"Hey!" says Tommy, "my lad, so is mine, an' it's fleead(5)!"

So Tommy got t' better o' t' bargain a vast,
An' cam' off wi' a Yorkshireman's triumph at last;
For thof 'twixt deead horses there's not mich to choose,
Yet Tommy were richer by t' hide an' fower shooes.

1 Near. 2 Nag. 3 Worse. 4. Quick, living 5. Flayed.

The Lucky Dream

John Castillo (1792-1845)

Ya Kessmas neet, or then aboot,
When measons all were frozzen oot,
I went to see a country friend,
An hospitable hoor to spend.
For gains, I cut across o' t' moor,
Whoor t' snaw sea furiously did stoor.(1)
The hoose I gain'd an' enter'd in,
An' were as welcome as a king.
The storm agean t' windey patter'd,
An' hail-steans doon t' chimley clatter'd.
All hands were in, an' seem'd content,
An' nean did frost or snaw lament.
T' lasses all were at their sewing,
Their cheeks wiv health an' beauty glowing.
Aroond the hearth, in cheerful chat,
Twea or three friendly neighbours sat,
Their travels telling, whoor they'd been,
An' what they had beath heeard an' seen.
Till yan did us all mich amuse,
An' thus a story introduce.
"I recollect lang saan,"(2) says he,
"A story that were tell'd to me,
At seems sea strange i' this oor day
That true or false I cannot say.
A man liv'd i' this neighbourhood,
Nea doot of reputation good,
An' lang taame strave wi' stiddy care,
To keep his hoosehod i' repair.
At length he had a curious dream,
For three neets runnin' 't were the seame,
At(3) if on Lunnon Brig he stood,