A BALLA D.* SUNG AT THE CUMBERLAND ANNIVERSARY MEETING, LONDON, APRIL 14, 1785. I kest off my clogs, hung th' kelt cwoat on a pin, And trudg'd up to Lunnon thro' thick and thro' thin, And hearing the fiddlers-guid fwoks-I've meade. free To thrust mysel in, your divarshon to see. Derry down, &c. Odswinge! this is brave! canny Cummerland, oh! In aw my bworn days sec a seeght I ne'er saw; Sec honest-like feaces, sec freedom, and then Sae feyne,-to be seer ye're aw parliament-men. Derry down, &c. Since I's here, if you will lend your lugs to my sang, His ministers-darr them!—are nit quite the thing. when we dee; Now countrymen these are hard laws, d'ye see. Derry down, &c. * Taken from Hutchinson's History of Cumberland. 1 My honest plain neighbor, Jwohn Stoddart, declares Derry down, &c. We may fou. Derry down, &c. And windows-ey, there I can feelingly speak- see To spelder their words, and ply A B C. Derry down, &c. But dead or alive, I my taxes will pay To enjoy every year the delights o' this day. I'll meet ye neist year, and for twenty years mair! Derry down, &c. END OF EWAN CLARK'S POEMS. COPY OF A LETTER* BY A YOUNG SHEPHERD TO HIS FRIEND IN BORROWDALE, Describing his Voyage from Whitehaven to Dublin; the wonderful sights he saw there; and the hardships he had to encounter. I send te thisan, to tell thee amackily what dreedful fine things I saw ith' rwoad tuv an at yon Dublin, and t' hardships I've bidden. I set forrat * The following piece was written by Mr. Isaac Ritson, of Eamont Bridge. As a specimen of the Cumberland Dialect, it has not, says Jollie, been exceeded—perhaps never equalled. This, however, is not its only merit, it abounds throughout with genuine humour, sarcastic, yet innocent, and hid under the natural veil of rustic simplicity. The author, a young man of more than ordinary talent, was the son of Isaac and Elizabeth Ritson, and was born in the year 1761; he received a classical education under the Rev. Mr. Blain; at the early age of sixteen he commenced his career as a teacher or schoolmaster, at Carlisle, and afterwards at Penrith, but with little success; he then made a journey into Scotland with the intention of studying medicine at Edinburgh, after residing there two years he went to London, professedly with a view of completing his medical education by an attendance at the Hospitals and on Lectures. o' Midsummer day, and gat to Whitehebben, a girt sea-side town, whare sea-nags eats cwoals out o' rack hurrys, like as barrels dus yal drink. I think seanags is nut varry wild, for tha winter them i' girt fwoalds wi' out yats; an as I was luiken about to gang to Ireland, I saw twea duzzen o' fellows myakin a sea-nag tedder styake ov iron; I ast yan o' them if I cud git riden to Dublin? an a man in a threenuickt hat, 'at knackt like rotten sticks, telt me I mud gang wid him, for a thing they caw tide, like t' post oth land, was gangin, an waddent stay o' nea body niver. Then four men in a lile sea-nag, a fwoal I think, 'at tha caw't a bwoat, heltert our nag an led it out oth fwoald, then our nag slipt t' helter an ran away; but tha hang up a deal ov wind-clyaths like blinder-brydals, wi' hundreds a In London, as well as at Edinburgh, he supported himself by his literary exertions; he published a translation of Homer's Hymn to Venus, which, though but indifferently executed, was not ill received: in his poetical effusions there was an original wildness, his mind was strongly tinctured with the sombrous magnificence of his native county, so that his poetry, like Gray's, was sometimes overloaded with what Dr. Johnson calls a cumbrous splendour. Some specimens of his Muse will be found in Hutchinson's History of Cumberland, vol. i., p. 335. He wrote the Preface to Clarke's Survey of the Lakes, and for a short period the medical articles in the Monthly Review; but many of his best works are lost, particularly a masterly translation of Hesiod's Theogony. After a short but irregular life in London, he died, after a few weeks' illness, at Islington, in 1789, and in the twenty-seventh year of his age.-BOUCHER. ryapes for rines. Land ran away an left us; an our nag had eaten so many cwoals it was cowdy, an cantert up wi' tya end an down wi' tudder. I turnt as seek as a peet, an spewt aw 'at iver was imma, Oh wunds! I was bad, I thout I sud ha deet; I spewt aw cullers. Neest day efter we set forrat, an island met us, tha cawt it Man; I wad fain a seen't cumd hard tull us, but it slipt away by and left us ; but sum mare land met us neest day efter, but it was varra shy, but we followt it up becose they sed Dublin was on't. I perswadet t' man ith threenuikt hat to ourgit it if he brast his nag, and he telt a fellow to twine tail on't, as tha dua swine or bulls when tha carry them to bait at Kessick an tha wiln't gang on; then we gat to Dublin presently. But I hed like tull a forgitten to tell thee, sick girt black fish we saw; tha snourt when tha cum out oth girt dub like thunner, and tha swallow landnags as hens dus bigg; mappen eat sea-nags when tha dee. It was a nice breet mwornin when we war i' Dublin Bay, as tha caw't, whar t' sea gangs up towart land as a dog dus to th' heed ov a bull. Twea men i' yan o' their bwoats cum to our nag side; they cawt them Paddeys, yan cuddn't tell thar toke be geese; tha drank heartily ov our water, it stinkt tyu, but we hed nout better to drink, fort girt dubs as sote as brine, it wad puzzen thee if thou tyasted it; we ga them twea fellows ith bwoat a helter, an tha led our nag into Dublin as wild as 'twas. But oh! man, what a fine cuntry thar was |