I 
 
 ~l 
 
 DIALECTS 
 
 FOR 
 
 ORAL INTERPRETATION 
 
 iilii 
 
 GERTRUDE E. JOHNSON
 
 DIALECTS 
 
 FOR 
 
 ORAL INTERPRETATION 
 
 SELECTIONS AND DISCUSSION 
 
 BY 
 GERTRUDE E. JOHNSON 
 
 Assistant Professor in the Department of Speech in the University 
 
 of Wisconsin. Author of "Modern Literature for Oral 
 
 Interpretation," and "Choosing a Play" 
 
 NEW YORK 
 THE CENTURY CO.
 
 COPVIlUillT. IDi'i, BY THE CENTURY CO. 
 AI.l. HKillTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THE 
 HK.MT TO REPRODUCE THIS BOOK, OR 
 PORTIONS THEREOF, IN ANY FORM. 872 
 
 PtlKTED IN V. S. A.
 
 43oS 
 
 TO 
 
 J. M. O'NEILL 
 
 whose leadership has made 
 
 constructi\t: work 
 
 possible
 
 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 
 
 I "WISH to express my appreciation of the kind words as 
 well as permissions which have been accorded me by 
 several authors, and my thanks to the editors and publishers 
 who have granted me the use of material. 
 
 To Bobbs-Merrill & Co. for selections by Wallace Bruce Amsbary 
 taken from ' ' Ballads of the Bourbonnais. ' ' 
 
 To Century Co. for selections by Joel Chandler Harris, Ruth 
 McEnery Stuart, Ellis Parker Butler, Irwin Russell, and Ruth Com- 
 fort Mitchell. 
 
 To Geo. H, Doran & Co. for "The Fair" by Theodosia Garrison, 
 from ' ' The Dreamers and Other Poems. ' ' 
 
 To Dodd, Mead & Co. for two poems by Paul Laurence Dunbar, 
 taken from ' ' Selected Readings ' ' compiled by Anna F. Morgan. 
 (All Dunbar's material is copyrighted by Dodd, Mead & Co.) 
 
 To Forbes & Co. for selections from ' ' Ben King 's Verse, ' ' and 
 from "Old Ace and Other Poems," "Pickett's Charge and Other 
 Poems, ' ' by Fred Emerson Brooks. 
 
 To Harcourt, Brace & Co. for selections by T. A. Daly taken 
 from "Canzoni, " "Carmina, " and "McAroni Ballads." 
 
 To David McKay Co. for selections by W, M. Letts. 
 
 To G. P. Putnam 's Sons for selections by W. H. Drummond. 
 
 To Small, Maynard & Co. for selections by F. P. Dunne. 
 
 To the following authors and owners of copyrights: 
 
 To Mrs. Alice Chapin for the use of her son's play, "The Phi- 
 losopher of Butterbiggens. ' ' 
 
 To Mrs. W. H. Drummond for the use of poems by Dr. W. H. 
 Drummond. 
 
 To Bertha N. Graham for the use of her play, "Spoiling the 
 Broth. ' ' 
 
 To William F. Kirk, Arthur Stringer, and Ruth Comfort Mitchell 
 for their generous permissions to use their work.
 
 viii Acknowledgments 
 
 To Hi.ljjoU'V Torronco for permission to uso "The Rider of 
 Dreams. ' ' 
 
 To Mra Clmrios Unttoil Loomis for permission to use Mr, Loomis' 
 Boloctions. 
 
 To the K.lit^r of "Country Life" for the use of the poem "The 
 Twa Weclunia" by Mrs. Violet Jacobs.
 
 PREFACE 
 
 AS in an earlier book, "Modern Literature for Oral 
 Interpretation," the author has been handicapped in 
 the selection of material for this book by refusals and 
 prohibitive costs. Much, therefore, that should have been 
 included does not appear. It is hoped, however, that the 
 book as a whole may be of service in a field constantly in 
 need of material of every sort. Certainly, there is need 
 of a collection solely of dialect forms, since in the whole 
 range of research but one such book was found. 
 
 It has been the intention in the discussion to offer as 
 concrete suggestions as possible on matters which have had 
 little direct explanation in any of our texts. The book is 
 not meant to be a research treatise on dialect, but a usable 
 text and source of material in dialect form ; suitable both 
 for study for the sake of the dialect, and also to use as good 
 program numbers. Dialect study should receive more 
 attention as a desirable medium in training students in 
 expression as well as for use upon programs. 
 
 It will be found that all selections of what is sometimes 
 termed "colloquial dialect" (Riley, Foss, Field, etc.) have 
 been omitted; also all "child dialect" (Cooke, Riley, Field, 
 etc.). These are not clearly "dialect," at least, not in the 
 sense in which it is considered in this book. Such selections 
 do not call for so complete change in vocal elements, such 
 as pitch, quality, and rhythm, or have as great variety in 
 corresponding bodily changes as the types of selections 
 herein included. They are, however, often excellent ma- 
 terial for interpretation, either as studies or as program
 
 Z Vrefacc 
 
 nunibors, niul tliey are comparatively numerous and easy 
 to locate. 
 
 Ill elioosiiig the selections, those which include a great 
 many strange or obsolete words have been purposely 
 onjittcd; since it is not the intention that the selections 
 should prove of use for such study of words in dialect. 
 The material is confined for the most part to the attempt 
 of those who are native to another country to use the 
 Knglish language. They are in the form, not too difficult, 
 of "The foreigner speaking English and including two 
 factors, his own language and the language of his adop- 
 tion." 
 
 "Whereas the effort has been made to make the selections 
 fairly inclusive of as many types of dialect as possible, 
 many have perforce been omitted. For instance, no 
 cockney dialect is included. Kipling has much that is 
 excellent but not obtainable. It will be noted that the 
 selections are written entirely in dialect. Complete dialect 
 being the only form desirable for the aims of this book, it 
 will be seen at once that the selection was much more 
 difficult. 
 
 The inclusion of an extensive bibliography, found at the 
 end of the book, should prove of great assistance to teachers 
 and others in locating selections desired. For much of the 
 work of this bibliography, I am indebted to Frances Ellen 
 Tucker of Dodgeville, Wis., High School, Department of 
 Speech. 
 
 Having felt the need of some such compilation as this 
 present one through a long period of years, it is offered 
 in the hope that it will prove helpful to a large number 
 who have been handicapped in the use of Dialect mainly 
 because it has been so hard to find.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PART I 
 Discussion 
 
 SKCTinN PAGE 
 
 I A General Stjrvey 3 
 
 IJ The Meaning and Significance of Dialect .... 11 
 
 III How TO Study a Dialect 19 
 
 ,W Advantages in the Interpretative Use of Dialect . 31 
 
 V The Monologue and Its Interpretation ..... 39 
 
 PART II 
 
 Material for Interpretation 
 
 VI Scotch 45 
 
 VII Italian 75 
 
 VIII Negro 89 
 
 IX French and French Canadian . 125 
 
 X Scandinavian 145 
 
 XI Irish 157 
 
 XII Miscellaneous 203 
 
 XIII One-Act Plats in Dialect 219 
 
 PART III 
 
 Bibliography 
 
 XIV General References 281 
 
 XV Detailed List of Selections 286 
 
 Index 305
 
 PART I 
 DISCUSSIOK 
 
 SECTION I 
 A GENERAL SURVEY
 
 DIALECTS FOR 
 ORAL INTERPRETATION 
 
 SECTION I 
 A GENERAL SURVEY 
 
 WHEN one interested in the field of interpretation 
 is convinced of the benefits to be derived from the 
 use of Dialect for the interpreter, both in vocal and bodily 
 reaction and development, his first thought is to survey 
 the field; to determine, if possible, why others interested 
 in the subject have not investigated its resources. As a 
 possible clue to this last, it is necessary, first of all, to 
 discover the sources of the material. 
 
 Setting about in such a survey, the first step was to 
 locate Dialect selections, and for this purpose volumes of 
 selected readings compiled for use in interpretation were 
 examined. Out of a total of one hundred books, only one 
 was found that listed Dialect in its table of contents, nor 
 was there any mention of Dialect material in the indexes or 
 appendixes of the other ninety-nine.^ In this survey it 
 was necessary to go over these books page by page in order 
 to determine whether or not Dialect selections were in- 
 cluded, and if so what particular kind of dialect was rep- 
 resented (Irish, French, Chinese, etc.) ; also, the form in 
 which they were written, whether prose or poetry, for this 
 
 * A bibliography of these selections, with a chart of detailed find- 
 ings, appears on pages 281-303. 
 
 3
 
 4 Dialects for Oral Iittrrprctation 
 
 was inilii'iited in the iiulox in only one instance. In the 
 one hundred hooks a total of 6200 selections were reviewed, 
 430 of which were Dialect. It should be noted here that 
 more than half of the latter, or 215, were repeated two or 
 three times. Of course there were some duplications in 
 the other selections, but it would not lower the total more 
 than 2000, so that the actual amount of material in dialect 
 form is in the proportion of 215 to 4200. One volume that 
 purported to be wholly Dialect contained 118 selections, 
 50 of which were usable. The other 68 selections were 
 either three- and four-line jokes, or not real Dialects. It 
 can readily be seen that there is an apparently appalling 
 lack of Dialect material. Furthermore, it is little wonder 
 that an instructor would not be enthusiastic in the use of 
 material that has to be literally dragged from its hiding- 
 place, examined, and diagnosed. The use of Dialect selec- 
 tions, therefore, is likely to be greatly retarded by this one 
 element alone, the finding of material. 
 
 A glance over the Dialects included in this volume will 
 perhaps reveal that the so-called Yankee, Hoosier, Child, 
 and varioiLs other Dialects do not appear. These, it seems, 
 are only variations within our own language, sometimes 
 termed Dialect, it is true. They would seem to be, in a 
 truer sense, colloquialisms, vernaculars, or provincialisms. 
 Pitch, accent, emphasis, even pronunciation, as well as 
 certain idiomatic expressions, may differ in different lo- 
 calities throughout our country, as they do in other coun- 
 tries as well ; but this is only a matter of degree, and not 
 one of radical change such as will be found when the 
 foreigner attempts to adopt our language. 
 
 Mr. E. S. Sheldon has the following to say upon this 
 point in his article "What Is a Dialect," found in the 
 Dialect Notes of the American Dialect Society, Vol. 1. I
 
 Discussion 5 
 
 quote at some length, as it may serve to clarify our dis- 
 cussion to a great extent. Mr. Sheldon says: "Language 
 we consider primarily as spoken by the various individuals 
 who use it. No two individuals use exactly the same 
 language. All language is constantly changing and the 
 gradual changes in different localities produce in time, in 
 the lack of conservative or unifying forces, forms markedly 
 different, even though the source of all of these may have 
 been the same, that is, with only slight and unnoticed 
 individual variations. These different local forms of speech 
 we may pro-visionaUy call dialects, but it is evident that a 
 sharp line between dialects and language can only be 
 drawn after adopting strict definitions of both words, also 
 that no slight line can be drawn between the slight, and 
 for the most part unnoticed, differences among individuals 
 speaking the same dialect or language and the more notice- 
 able ones which we call differences of dialect. Dialects, 
 thus understood, can not be assigned in general to definite 
 regions with sharply drawn geographical limits. ..." and 
 later he terms the changes that occur "Local Dialects." 
 The entire article should be carefully read by all who have 
 to teach in this field. 
 
 Matters of Child Dialect offer another problem, and 
 should not properly be termed Dialect, it seems. This 
 speech belongs to a different world, the world of Baby- 
 land. This speech can not be compared with the grown-up 
 world, nor with the speech of the foreigner attempting 
 to accommodate his native language to ours. The latter 
 has some years of experience, while the child is just learn- 
 ing. The child's speech is surely but a variation within 
 our own forms, and will have but little variation in melodic 
 rhythm at least. The melodic rhythm in a given language, 
 together with the quality conditions, are, it seems, the final
 
 (J Didliits for Oral I iitcrpritation 
 
 (lotcriiiiiiiii^ factors ol' difTercntiation for the interpreter 
 
 III the si-arch tlirouj^li many volumes for material, ona 
 is struck l)y the fact that by far the greatest number ot 
 sekH'tious is in verse form. Comparatively few writers 
 have used Dialect entirely in prose form. A possible ex- 
 planation for this preponderance of the poetic form mifjlit 
 be that Dialect is a medium of expression for a distinct 
 character situation, taken more frequently than otherwise 
 from the lower walks of life. Poetry idealizes, and many 
 of these selections if written in prose might call forth a 
 mere crude enjoyment instead of the appreciation that the 
 author desired. Considerable prose in Scotch may be 
 found, and a great deal in Irish. This latter Dialect Mr. 
 "William H. Carpenter of Columbia College thinks should 
 not come under the same sort of Dialect consideration as 
 the Dialect of other foreigners in this country ; indeed, he 
 seems not to consider the Irishman as a "foreigner." In 
 his article "The Philosophy of Dialect" in "Modern Lan- 
 guage Notes," Vol. 1, he says: 
 
 ' ' The Irishman, whom we have always with us, does not 
 come properly into consideration here. His language is, 
 from the very start, an English patois entitled to its 
 vagaries of expression by lawful transmission from a long 
 line of preceding generations." 
 
 I encountered by far the greatest difficulty in finding 
 anything like good Dialect, either in prose or poetry, in 
 the German, and am not at all satisfied with what is in- 
 cluded. In this connection I wish to quote again from 
 Mr. Carpenter, since what he has to say is very illuminat- 
 ing in this connection. In the same article referred to 
 above he says: 
 
 "The German divides with the Irishman the honor of 
 constituting a weighty part of our foreign element — a part
 
 Discussion 7 
 
 which, from its size and importance, is quite assertive, 
 and we are accustomed to read and hear frequently that 
 form of English which arises from the imitation of a Ger- 
 man original. To understand this international hodge- 
 podge is, in some parts of the country, a linguistic problem 
 that must be solved by every one, for its every-day re- 
 currence is assured. In spite, however, of this widespread 
 familiarity with this alien pronunciation of English it is 
 curious to observe the clumsiness with which American 
 writers use it. This is apt to be the case wherever it is 
 emploj^ed, not only in the hastily written 'news item,' but 
 may also be discovered in the last new novel." 
 
 This, at least, is interesting in the light of my difficulty 
 in finding Dialect in this fonn. 
 
 The attitude of the "special schools" of expression in 
 this matter is worth consideration, since they occupy an 
 important position in the field of interpretation, for they 
 supply very largely the teachers in this field. What the 
 teacher in training learns of methods, materials, etc., she 
 carries into her own work. I have wondered sometimes 
 whether these schools place sufficient emphasis upon the 
 study of Dialect. As far as I have been able to discover 
 through evidence obtained from graduates of these schools, 
 and I know it was the case in my own training. Dialect is 
 not generally employed as a means or method for benefiting 
 the individual in vocal and bodily reactions, nor is much 
 time devoted to a study of its philosophy and possible 
 advantages. What is done depends too much upon students 
 who are "apt" imitators, or upon instructors who have a 
 special "gift" or knowledge of some particular Dialect. 
 Often, then, it may happen that only one or two Dialects 
 are touched upon in an entire course, and Dialect may 
 come to be considered more or less of a trick performance,
 
 8 Dial tits for Oral Interpretation 
 
 rathor ihan a fundamental study of importance to any 
 toacher or interpreter. Surely, if authors of note and 
 authority find the use of Dialect fundamental to the de- 
 lineation of a c-haracter or situation, we should give it some 
 general and serious consideration before we may hope to 
 approximate the author's intention, or do justice to the 
 people we are attem|)tiiig to portray. There must be some 
 basic truths concerning its value and use.
 
 SECTION II 
 
 THE MEANING AND SIGNIFICANCE OP 
 DIALECT
 
 SECTION II 
 THE MEANING AND SIGNIFICANCE OF DIALECT 
 
 DIALECT is found where a branch of the parent 
 tongue is radically affected by the locality, time, 
 accident, or revolutions. When an Italian, Chinese, or 
 Frenchman comes to America, he comes with the language 
 of his native soil, but upon his arrival finds that it no 
 longer serves his purposes adequately. The removal from 
 the fatherland to a new world necessitates his changing 
 the parent tongue to fit new needs. Often whole words, 
 phrases, idioms, etc., are transferred to the new tongue. 
 The French-Canadian will say, "I go to fine soiree." The 
 first four words are distinctly American in form but not 
 in order to tense, and this affects the melodic rhythm. 
 "Soiree" is French and transferred to the new tongue. 
 His native language has been radically affected by en- 
 vironment and needs, and the result is a Dialect, or mixture 
 of two languages. 
 
 In this we find a possible answer to the question, **Why 
 do authors use Dialect?" When one reads, "I go to fine 
 soiree," one knows immediately that it is not just any man 
 talking. As far as the dialectic form is employed, it is 
 accidental — a means, not an end in itself. That simple 
 sentence is an expression of character, a foreign character. 
 It is a word picture. An artist would depict the man in 
 his native costume, posture, coloring, etc., but your author 
 
 11
 
 l-i Dialtcia for Oral I iilcrpntation 
 
 breathes vory life into him through the medium of words 
 Immediately one senses an element of the dramatic. Whyl 
 Heraiiso, if one knows anything at all about the French 
 Canadian, tins knowledge forms a subconscious back- 
 ground. One is at once upon the alert, full of expectancy, 
 looking for something to happen. It need not be intense 
 or swiftly moving, but just a tinge of difference will give 
 it dramatic tlavor. Or, if the reader knows little or noth- 
 ing concerning the French Canadian, the dialectic form 
 ac(iuaints him with the fact that here is something different. 
 A Dialect situation must have this dramatic element, or 
 it is worth nothing. It may at times add only a grotesque 
 effect or color to a situation, but it must be present in some 
 degree. 
 
 Dialect aids the reader or hearer to picture the character 
 who is speaking. It establishes, to some degree, a sympa- 
 thetic medium of understanding. It is much more satisfy- 
 ing to have such a character speak in his own way, setting 
 forth his own experiences and his reactions in his own 
 Dialect, than to have some one tell about him in ordinary 
 language. The reader or hearer is able to appreciate more 
 fully the spirit, thought, and feeling of the character and 
 situation. Dialect points up a situation, holds the details 
 in focus, and gives a different mood or color to the whole. 
 Recently play producers have seen fit to have music ap- 
 propriate in movement and mood before the curtain rises, 
 in order to establish an atmosphere. That is what Dialect 
 does for fiction. As Doctor Curry ^ says, '"'Dialect is a 
 kind of literary or vocal stage make-up that enables the 
 reader or auditor to recognize the character." 
 
 Robert Burns used this "make-up" for the speaker in 
 
 *" Browning and the Dramatic Monolog," by S. S. Curry, 
 Chap. 13.
 
 Discussion 13 
 
 the majority of his poems. They were in Scottish dialect, 
 simple and spoken from his very heart. To quote Doctor 
 Curry again, "It was native to his heart." He was in- 
 timately connected with the peculiar feelings, experiences, 
 and reactions of his people. In his distinctly Scottish 
 poems we get a sense of the dramatic spirit of the thought, 
 while in those that are known as his English poems we feel 
 the lack of this element. They are wanting in appeal; 
 they seem weaker, and do not stir us as do his other poems. 
 
 Dialect is the language of the heart or emotions, and we 
 react naturally to its appeal. One of the heroes of the 
 hour, and a truly great man. Sir Harry Lauder, is a living 
 example. He is an artist, but would his art have the same 
 flavor, the same appeal, if he sang the "Wee Hoose 'Mang 
 the Heather" or "Roamin' in the Gloamin' " without 
 that famous Scotch burr. Through his consummate skill 
 he can make an audience shout with laughter or melt with 
 tears. To those who know Scotland he brings the fragrance 
 of the heather, and the eerie call of the bag-pipe that tugs 
 at every Scotchman 's heart ; to those who do not know his 
 beloved country, he brings the vague feeling of a wonder 
 country yet unseen but greatly loved. Sometimes we must 
 know a man's character in order to appreciate why he did 
 a certain thing, and in just this capacity is Dialect needed 
 the better to suggest the experiences of a certain character 
 situation. This is the real meaning and justification of 
 Dialect. 
 
 Vernaculars such as the Hoosier and Yankee find justi- 
 fication in this way. Riley in his Hoosier poems establishes 
 a bond of sympathy between character and reader through 
 the vernacular. The stories of Alice Brown and Mary 
 E. W. Freeman, as well as much of the work of Robert 
 Frost and Percy Mackaye, would lose appeal and signifi-
 
 1 i Diitlrcts for Oral I ttlrrpntation 
 
 caiu'o w«>r(' till' voniacular, the idioms, and the colloquial- 
 isms of New En<;hind loft out. They locate the stories. 
 Though we have chosen not to call Yankee and Iloosier 
 strictly Dialects, yet we feel that there is a place for the 
 vernacular of different localities as well. 
 
 The spokesmen of another race have been found in Ruth 
 McEnery Stuart, F. Hopkinson Smith, Thomas Nelson 
 Pag:e, and Joel Chandler Harris, all of whom have dealt 
 humorously and sympathetically with the Dialect of the 
 black race. Perhaps the best of these writers, and one not 
 yet mentioned, Paul Laurence Dunbar, spoke from a still 
 deeper understanding of the black man, for he was the 
 prophet of his own race. Sympathetic understanding is 
 an element absolutely essential to Dialect. The author must 
 have this, and identification in the character situation to be 
 set forth, if he would appeal to the auditor or reader. It 
 must appear in all of his work, whether it be humorous, 
 tragic, pathetic, or tender. This sj'mpathetic understand- 
 ing and appeal is beautifully portrayed in a very short 
 poem of Dunbar's, "A Death Song": 
 
 Lay me iovra beneaf de willers in de grass, 
 
 "Whah de branch '11 go a-singin' as it pass; 
 
 An' w'en I 's a-layin' low, 
 
 I kin hyeah it as it go 
 
 Singin, ' ' Sleep, my honey, tek yo ' res ' at las '. ' * 
 
 Lay me nigh to whah hit meks a little pool, 
 
 An' de watah stan's so quiet lak an' cool, 
 
 Whah de little birds in spring 
 
 Ust to come an ' drink an ' sing. 
 
 An ' de chillen Avaded on dey way to school. 
 
 Let me settle w 'en my shouldahs drops dey load 
 
 Nigh enough to hyeah de noises in de road; 
 
 Fu ' I t'ink de las' long res' 
 
 Gwine to soothe my spurit bes' 
 
 Ef I 's layin' 'mong de t'ings I 's alius knowed. 
 
 There is one sad fact concerning Negro Dialect, though 
 it may be found among the others, but in this more espe-
 
 Discussion 15 
 
 cially, and that is, that many pseudo-authors who have no 
 real appreciation of the wealth of beauty and rich humor 
 back of the Dialect use the Dialect as an end for some poor 
 mock-situation, putting uncouth and untrue expressions 
 into the character's mouth. For the instructor or pupil 
 of interpretation a word to the wise is sufficient : ' ' Know 
 your authors." 
 
 Though Doctor Drummond is not a French-Canadian, 
 his constant association with these people through a long 
 period of years has given insight into their lives. He has 
 written several volumes of monologues in the French- 
 Canadian Dialect, portraying with deep and sincere ap- 
 preciation and sympathy their quaint humor. The pe- 
 culiar melodic form and rhythmic movement of their 
 language is delightful and exceptionally well preserved. 
 
 No doubt the chief charm of the expression of plain 
 peoples lies in the fact that they can express themselves 
 with few words and great truth. They "do not costume 
 their feelings for social effect.'*
 
 SECTION III 
 HOW TO STUDY A DIALECT
 
 SECTION III 
 HOW TO STUDY A DIALECT 
 
 IN taking up the study of Dialect for interpretatijn, one 
 must necessarily examine the symbols. They must then 
 be analyzed and assimilated for future reference and use. 
 Perhaps the most noticeable differences — those that are 
 most apparent to the hearer — are the variations of the 
 melodic rhythms in the various mother tongues. It must 
 be understood that these rhythms cover a series of words 
 in a phrase, clause, sentence, and entire paragraphs, as 
 well as the attack on single vowels, which may be drawled, 
 curved, or struck very quickly. Each melodic rhythm, 
 whether it is peculiar to the French, Irish, or Italian, 
 strikes us first as a totality. Examination of this effect 
 shows one that the causes are many, such as variations in 
 pitch, range, vocal quality, elisions, and substitutions of 
 vowels and consonants, and accent or emphasis. 
 
 Let us examine the first of these symbols, variations in 
 pitch range. In the Scandinavian Dialect, for example, 
 the pitch tends to be comparatively high, and the inflec- 
 tional modulations and changes more frequently occurring 
 from the established pitch upward. The voice tends geldom 
 to fall below the established key or pitch, and the jumps 
 are comparatively slow. In comparison, the Negro Dialect 
 runs a wide gamut in pitch range, now high, now low, with 
 frequent and abrupt changes. The Chinese, on the other 
 hand, have a very high standard pitch with a range of only 
 
 19
 
 20 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 two or three notes above the orij;inal i)iteh, and the rate 
 of eliange is extremely staccato and rapid. 
 
 Another symbol that we may consider here is vocal 
 quality, and this deals first of all with voice placement and 
 resonance. To continue with the Scandinavian example, 
 the tonal condition is the result of head-tones. These need 
 not be in any way nasal, but have their resonance very 
 largely in the head. They are not especially musical, for 
 they lack warmth and richness of quality. The German 
 dialect, in opposition, has guttural tones produced far 
 back in the throat passage. There is a certain richness and 
 heaviness about them. The Chinese have a distinctly nasal 
 twang which, when combined with the usual high pitch, 
 produces a sometimes distressingly grating sound. The 
 tones of the Canadian-French are well forward in the 
 mouth, while the placement of the Irish voice fluctuates, 
 now forward in the mouth cavity, now back in the throat 
 with many sibilants. 
 
 The nasal tone has a peculiarly flat twang or quality, and 
 the only Dialects that have this to a marked degree are the 
 Chinese and the Yiddish. The difference in the two as a 
 vocal proposition is found in the pitch ; the Chinese having 
 the higher, the Yiddish the lower pitch. As a general rule, 
 the Negro has a voice of unusually pure quality. This is 
 because he produces his tones easily and fully, the tones 
 being unobstructed in the throat passage. Scandinavian 
 and Cockney Dialects are inclined to a certain flatness or 
 lack of quality, for they lack deep resonance, which makes 
 for richness. Italian and French-Canadian Dialects have 
 a light, musical quality — more delicate than deeply rich. 
 It is the quality that aids so much in portraying feeling. 
 Certain pitch and tone variations are peculiar to every 
 tongue; they are very delicate and complicated.
 
 Discussion 21 
 
 Science is now experimenting in this field, but has done 
 little, so far, to help us. The interpreter must train his 
 ear to catch these variations and changes. He must train 
 his mind to understand them. And the third step is to 
 train his vocal mechanism to reproduce them. Let it here 
 be said that the ideal way to study any language, in Dialect 
 or otherwise, is to hear it spoken, since there are innumer- 
 able shadings impossible to catch by any other means. But 
 that we can do nothing with Dialects without hearing them 
 I do not agree, for this will cause their continued neglect. 
 I do not believe that enough effort has been made to study 
 Dialect in ways here suggested. I know from experience 
 that much can be accomplished thus, even when ear ob- 
 servation is not possible. When started upon the right 
 track, students' interest is greatly stimulated, and in many 
 instances they make remarkable progress, I find, too, that 
 they often find opportunity to hear the Dialects "first 
 hand." 
 
 The next symbols to be considered are vowel changes and 
 elisions and substitutions in vowels and consonants. There 
 are certain vowel sounds in every language identified very 
 largely with that language only.^ The spelling in two 
 languages may be identical, but the quality, duration, etc., 
 may differ in degree. Because we can not make an in- 
 
 ^ An interesting example in this connection is the Scotch Dialect. 
 It is very easy to learn. There are only about two hundred words 
 to remember, and another two hundred that are the same as 
 English words with "ie" tacked on, for example: lad, laddie; 
 plaid, plaidie ; lass, lassie. 
 
 But the vocabulary gets the harder as we get farther north into 
 the highlands, and the change in vowels becomes very noticeable. 
 This comversation took place between a buyer and seller at a fair 
 in the north. "Oo?" "Ay, oo." "Aw oo?" "Ay, aw oo." 
 "Aw a 00?" "Ay, aw a oo. " 
 
 The translation is: "Wool?" "Yes, wool." "All wool?" 
 "Yes, all wool." "All one wool?" "Yes, all one wool."
 
 22 Dialects for Oral Intcrpntatiou 
 
 tensive study of the original sounds of foreign tongues, 
 authors, in writing the Dialect, endeavor to spell the words 
 according to the sound; but it is almost impossible of re- 
 production in writing, as authors are well aware. To 
 approximate it to some degree requires great understand- 
 ing, taste, and skill. 
 
 In his book of "Irish Poems" ^ Arthur Stringer writes: 
 
 "I have again and again, in the matter of the written 
 word, been coerced into something not unlike a sacrifice of 
 actuality on the altar of literary convention. . . . There 
 are tricks of speech so characteristic and so persistent 
 that they can not be ignored. One, for instance, is the 
 flattening of the dental digraph "th" into something ap- 
 proaching a "d." To write it down always as a "d" is a 
 somewhat clumsy artifice. . . . Still another practice is 
 the lowering and " de-dentalating " of the sibilant, readily 
 recognized in the "smile" which becomes "shmile" and 
 the "street" which must be recorded as "shtreet," though 
 here again the inserted "h" is a somewhat awkward in- 
 strument to denote that tenuous rustle of breath with 
 which Erin wafts out its hissing consonants. . . . And 
 beyond this there are many more difficulties, difficulties of 
 idiom, and of mental attitude. And as an excuse for a 
 newcomer's invasion of that land of brogues and accents 
 and intonations, which are as elusive as quicksilver even 
 while they are as penetrating as turf -smoke and as soft as 
 a bog-land breeze, I can only add that it is a field in which 
 there are many anomalies and no finalities." 
 
 It must be remembered here that Dialect is accidental — a 
 means, not an end. 
 
 Dialect must suggest the dramatic spirit, and be neces- 
 sary to the situation in amplifying a character or in giving 
 
 * Arthur Stringer, ' ' Irish Poems, ' ' Foreword.
 
 Discussion 23 
 
 a unique point of view or experience. The chief element of 
 Dialect is not in the spelling of the words, but in the 
 melody of the sentences. It is not a matter of individual 
 words, but of the entire feeling, spirit, and thought. At 
 best, Dialect can be suggested only vaguely. 
 
 In the matter of elisions, let us look for a moment at a 
 bit of Negro Dialect: 
 
 "I'nin' up de whi' folks' close." 
 
 The "ro" and the final "g" have been dropped from the 
 word "ironing" and the "te" from "white"; "d" is 
 substituted for "th" and "th" is ignored in "clothes"; 
 so that, when read in the dialect form, the words of the 
 sentence run together. In this case Dialect is a blending 
 of sounds. No one word would stand out clear-cut from 
 the others. The Negro Dialect has, perhaps, more elisions 
 than any other, though some are found in the Italian, 
 German, French-Canadian, etc. Dropping of the "u" 
 from "you" and the "d" from "and" occurs regularly 
 in the Negro Dialect. 
 
 Substitution of vowels and consonants is very common 
 in all Dialect forms. In German Dialect selections we 
 continually find "I vas," the substitution of "v" for "w" 
 in "was."^ In other Dialects, as well, there are the 
 substitutions of "e" for "d," as "ole" for "old"; "y" 
 for "j" in "just"; "u" for "a" in "and." The Chinese 
 
 ^ Of interest in this connection are some of the results in a recent 
 research upon errors in given English sounds, made as a thesis 
 study in the Department of Education in the University of Wis- 
 consin. Seventeen races represented in the United States were 
 tested, the smallest number in any one being twenty-five, the 
 largest ninety. The voiceless " th " was found to be the most diffi- 
 cult sound for all and the sonant "th" rated next in difficulty, 
 while the next two in order were "v" and "wh." (See bibliography 
 for reference.)
 
 24 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 constantly substitute "1" for "r" and "r" for "1." 
 "Every" roads "evly." So, there are numerous elisions 
 and substitutions, only a few of -which are mentioned here. 
 This can not be an exhaustive discussion of the subject; 
 the purpose is to indicate what the interpreter is to look 
 for. Should such a discussion go into meticulous detail, 
 the interpreter would become discouraged because of the 
 great mass of material. Then, too, if the Dialect is to be 
 truly assimilated, the interpreter, or teacher of interpreta- 
 tion, must necessarily discover some of the facts for him- 
 self. The substitutions and elisions discussed are merely 
 suggestive guides in the right direction. 
 
 The next aid is in the matter of accent and emphasis. 
 This has to do first of all with the words themselves, that 
 is, syllabic accent — whether or not the accent falls on the 
 first, second, or third accent of a three-syllable word. 
 Secondly, it deals with the stress or accentuation of special 
 words in the phrases and clauses. Many times the ac- 
 centuation of another syllable than the usual one in a 
 single word causes the accenting of a phrase or group of 
 words to be changed. The American asks, " Chris'to-pher 
 Co-lum'bus?" and his Italian brother answers, "Chris- 
 toph' Co-lumb'!" (The words have been divided here 
 into syllables in order to show w^here the accent falls.) 
 The elisions in the latter, combined with the differences in 
 accentuation, produces a startlingly different result. So 
 much, for the moment, for that Dialect. Let us consider 
 briefly the attack the Frenchman makes upon accent. 
 
 The Frenchman tends to articulate each syllable of a 
 word very precisely and delicately, with no special accent 
 upon a given syllable. The result is that he seems to 
 talk faster, because he does not pause upon some syllable. 
 This vitally affects the rhythm. The regularity or ir-
 
 Discussion 25 
 
 regularity of accent occurrences, pause between syllables 
 or words, and the prominence given certain words or word 
 groups, makes for variations in rhythm. The rhythm is 
 a totality of effect — and timing has much to do with it. 
 Could the Dialect speech of the Italian be considered as a 
 musical score, the tempo or time would be allegro, or 
 "quickly." The Scandinavian would be talking in 
 andante, or slowly moving, even time. Cockney Dialect 
 is allegretto — faster than andante but slower than allegro. 
 The Irish Dialect is now in andtinte, now allegro, the latter 
 predominating. We all are acquainted with the famous 
 nursery rhyme "Mary's Lamb." Let us look at it a 
 moment rendered in four different Dialects — Chinese^ 
 German, French, and Irish: 
 
 Was gal name Moll had lamb, 
 Flea' all samee white snow; 
 Evly place Moll gal walkee 
 Ba-ba hoppee 'long too. 
 
 II 
 
 Dot Mary haf got ein leedle schaf 
 Mit hair yust like some vool; 
 Und all der place dot gal did vent 
 Das schaf go like some fool. 
 
 Ill 
 
 La petite Marie had le jeune muttong, 
 Ze wool was blanche as ze snow ; 
 And everywhere la Belle Marie went 
 Le jeune muttong was zure to go. 
 
 IV 
 
 Begorry, Mary had a little shape, 
 
 And the wool was white entoirely. 
 
 An' wherever Mary wad sthir her sthumpa 
 
 The young shape would follow her completely.
 
 S6 ])itili(ts for Oral Interpretation 
 
 Kcad those aloud, and listen for the rhythmic differences. 
 
 No doubt yon have often heard the comedienne on the 
 vaudeville sta<ro render "In the Shade of the Old Apple 
 Tree" as the Italian, the German, and the Chinese would 
 play it upon the piano. The Italian rendition was brilliant 
 and marked by a certain uneven tempo. The German was 
 slow and ponderous, with many crashing chords emphasiz- 
 ing the guttural, low-pitched voice, with its slow rhythm. 
 In contrast, the Chinese piece was played on the upper 
 three octaves of the keyboard, and was very staccato and 
 fast, with peculiarly jarring notes. With the pianist it 
 was, again, a matter of pitch, accent, and rhythms. 
 
 These, then, are some of the principal elements that go 
 to make up a Dialect: variation in pitch range and the 
 rapidity with which may occur changes in vowels, elisions 
 and substitutions of vowels and consonants, and accent and 
 emphasis. Together they produce melodic rhythms pe- 
 culiar to each tongue, as a harmonious and unified whole. 
 It is necessary to examine each phase or symbol separately 
 if we would understand the Dialect; and these are means 
 of understanding fundamental to any Dialect, but not ends 
 in themselves. 
 
 One of the greatest faults of rendering is due to imita- 
 tion and mastery of externals, rather than primarily a 
 deep understanding. Dialect must always be the result 
 of assimilation. It is true that this may come through 
 imitation to a degree, but it is an imitation that has as its 
 basis a sympathetic and sincere understanding and appre- 
 ciation. It is not parrot-like repetition. In the poetic or 
 prose selections the author gives only certain words 
 Dialect spelling, and these are the words that the pseudo- 
 interpreter delights in stressing. The fact of the matter 
 is that all of the words have a subtle difference in pro-
 
 Discussion 27 
 
 nunciation, whether they are spelled differently or not. 
 When we hear an educated Frenchman speak, we notice 
 that he has a comparatively fine mastery of the English 
 language ; but at the same time there is an almost intangible 
 and delightful difference about his speech, unlike our own. 
 We call it accent — we might say there is a delicate aroma 
 about the words. 
 
 In Dialect this accent is stronger — more apparent. There 
 is a difference about all of the words, more marked in some 
 instances; and the greatest difference of all lies in the 
 peculiar melodic rhythms, individual to each tongue. This 
 comes, as we have seen, through modulations of the voice 
 in pitch, inflections, pause, stress, quality, resonance, etc. 
 These are, of course, bound up with technique when it 
 comes to reproduction; but underlying all is a dramatic 
 feeling for the material, which can not be a veneer, but 
 must come from a deep and sympathetic appreciation and 
 understanding on the part of the interpreter. The inter- 
 preter, like the author, must speak in the words of the 
 heart. Doctor Henry Van Dyke says: "A character is 
 but a puppet strung on wires, unless you know him for a 
 man." These foreigners who speak to us in Dialect must 
 be understood by the interpreter if he would make the 
 right appeal to his audience and gain the best results from 
 the material. To quote further from Doctor Van Dyke in 
 his tales of the French-Canadian, he says, 
 
 Take the least of all mankind, as I; 
 Look at his head and heart, find how and why 
 He differs from his fellows utterly.
 
 SECTION IV 
 
 ADVANTAGES IN THE INTERPRETATIVE 
 USE OF DIALECT
 
 SECTION IV 
 
 ADVANTAGES IN THE INTERPRETATIVE 
 USE OF DIALECT 
 
 THE student of Dialect who comes to it with an appre- 
 ciation of its use and Avhat it stands for may expect 
 to benefit materially from its study. In the first place, it 
 is an excellent vocal practice. No matter how lovely a 
 voice may be, it can and should be improved ; for if it has 
 reached perfection there is no growth, and that means loss 
 of power. The mere attempts at approximating different 
 pitches, melodies, and accents found in the various Dialects 
 will prove very helpful merely as vocal exercises. In the 
 different Dialects, the acquiring of skill in technique, which 
 is based on fundamental understanding, implies that much 
 may be accomplished. What the interpreter must work 
 for is increase in capacity to do. 
 
 Take some one whose voice is high-pitched and rather 
 inflexible. That person can never hope to remedy the 
 defect until he trains his ear to catch the difference in 
 voice pitches and variations in pitch. A too abrupt attack 
 upon the fault ruins any good result that may be hoped 
 for; but a gradual approach through the study of Dialect 
 material will aid greatly in accomplishing the desired end. 
 The interpreter unconsciously studies his own voice in 
 comparison, discovers his limitation, and the readjustment 
 comes about easily and naturally. 
 
 31
 
 32 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 Increase in pitch range, and the agility acquired in 
 vocal adjustment when trying Irish, Scandinavian, 
 French, Si'otch, and Italian Dialects in succession, help 
 vocal modulation and inllectional control. Vocal quality 
 may be improved through tJie understanding and use of 
 the qualities peculiar to each Dialect. Thus the melody of 
 the voice becomes enriched. More feeling, and conse- 
 quently more appeal, is added. But perhaps the greatest 
 benefit of all comes in the improvement of native melodic 
 rhythm. 
 
 Every one has a rhythm, again, peculiar to the indi- 
 vidual, but colored by the race or nationality. For the 
 person who habitually rushes through his sentences in mad 
 haste, with abrupt pauses, let him try the bland Scandi- 
 navian Dialect or a crooning Negro lullaby. Both are slow 
 in tempo, even in rhythm. The fundamental understand- 
 ing and control required to obtain desired results in ren- 
 dering such selections should aid him greatly. This 
 method, of course, may not cure his fault, but it will tend 
 to have a slowing effect upon his habitual rhythm. It will 
 increase his capacity to the extent that he will be capable 
 of doing that which is diametrically opposite to what he 
 has alw^ays done. Take the reverse case, that of the person 
 who has a slow, even-moving rhythm. Try him out on 
 French-Canadian, Italian, and Chinese dialects. It will 
 tend to put life and verve into his work. 
 
 These are the problems that the interpreter and teacher 
 of interpretation must always meet, and there is not always 
 such a workable remedy at hand. This study is not 
 remedial primarily; it is helpful and cultural. We can 
 not hope literally to change a thing so deeply rooted as 
 melodic rhythm, but we can hope to better and improve it 
 through enlarging our capacity to appreciate and use
 
 Discussion 33 
 
 rhythms other than our own. Strangely, through use of 
 Dialect material, the tendency toward change goes farther : 
 it affects more than the vocal rhythms — it affects the entire 
 bodily response. 
 
 The interpreter can not help but feel a sympathy toward 
 Dialect material. It is that sympathy which sets off, as it 
 were, the whole nervous reaction. There is certainly a 
 human appeal there to which he will respond in feeling. 
 If he is slow in physical response ordinarily, have him do 
 French and Italian. The doing — to hear his own voice — 
 will tend to quicken his bodily rhythms. If he is ordi 
 narily staccato in response, contact with sad Irish or bland 
 Scandinavian will tend to smooth out his reactions, making 
 them a more sustained totality. This holds true again in 
 acting, perhaps in a greater degree, though this is ques- 
 tionable; and we must first interpret before we can act. 
 
 At this moment there comes to mind a very recent case 
 of a young woman who had staccato response and rather 
 tense, jerky rhythms. She was known in amateur circles 
 for acting in comedy roles. There was always the same 
 quick, sure, but somewhat jerky attack. The result was 
 the same — the rhythmic result as a whole — vocally and 
 bodily. Her instructor knew that the pupil's power could 
 never be increased until she had increased her capacity to 
 use other rhythms truly. So the young woman was cast 
 in an Irish Dialect play, in the character of a woman of 
 some seventy years, a tragic, strongly emotional figure, in 
 a situation deeply sad. The result was astonishing. Those 
 who knew her best scarcely recognized the student in the 
 deeply pulsing rhythms of her voice, the sustained totality 
 of bodily response. And all this with ease. She had ac- 
 complished what she had set out to do — completely to 
 approximate an entirely different result in vocal and bodily
 
 84 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 rhytlniu". ^Vill such achievoiiient have no effect upon her 
 future work? 
 
 This is by no means an isohited example. It has been 
 my not infrequent experience that students whose lack of 
 rhythmic response or setness of rhythm has been almost 
 impossible truly to stir or affect have responded in the 
 use of Dialect material in a remarkable way, and this when 
 the presumable difficulties of Dialect have at first sight 
 staggered them. 
 
 Some in authority decry the use of Dialect. They de- 
 clare that Dialects ruin the American language ; the idea 
 is to get rid of them. What they are really decrying are 
 colloquialisms, vernaculars, and native carelessness. I 
 should dislike to see the use of Dialect discouraged for 
 any such reason. ]\Iy testimony would, indeed, all be upon 
 the opposite side. I have been interested to note that 
 students beginning the study of Dialects invariably take 
 much more pains to pronounce and enunciate in this new 
 form than they sometimes did in their own language. They 
 are quick to see this somewhat humorously, when their 
 attention is called to it. I find that their ears more quickly 
 catch slovenliness in our speech after some little use of 
 Dialects, and in not a few cases their native speech has 
 been definitely improved. I am, of course, considering 
 the study of groups working for expressive speech pur- 
 poses, not groups of foreigners or younger pupils. There 
 is little danger in the interpretative study and use of 
 Dialects, for we learn to appreciate their value and sig- 
 nificance, and there is little danger of falling into the 
 grievous fault of their usage. Know your Dialects and 
 they will increase your power. 
 
 When the interpreter makes a careful study and use of 
 Dialect material, he has at his command the most complete
 
 Discussion 35 
 
 means for the development of interpreting and imperso- 
 nating powers within the scope of individual expression 
 and presentation. Apparently it is a form that has been 
 ignored and greatly discounted, when its worth as a 
 medium of training should be recognized and enhanced.
 
 SECTION V 
 
 THE MONOLOGUE AND ITS 
 INTERPRETATION
 
 SECTION V 
 
 THE MONOLOGUE AND ITS 
 INTERPRETATION 
 
 SINCE virtually all the selections in this book are in 
 monologue form, a form especially helpful to dramatic 
 students in the overcoming of mechanical tendencies in 
 presentation, and offering a wide choice of material, some 
 discussion of this type of material will not be amiss in 
 conclusion. 
 
 A variety of meanings are given the word ' ' monologue ' ' : 
 *'A speech or soliloquy spoken by a character in a story or 
 play." Several of Browning's best monologues are titled 
 soliloquies, as "Soliloquy in the Spanish Cloister." "A 
 performance by one person of any one scene or selection 
 from a play in which the performer assumes one or more 
 characters." "A 'variety sketch' or a confused collection 
 of amusing sayings." (Vaudeville.) 
 
 The monologue is one end of a conversation, and pre- 
 supposes a listener or listeners in a definitely conceived 
 dramatic situation. It reports a complete story or revela- 
 tion of events, showing at its best the subjective workings 
 of the character speaking, together with such reactions as 
 are caused by the presence of other characters. It is 
 always vivid, intense, and personal. 
 
 There is probably no form of wi'iting, the play not ex- 
 cepted, that furnishes the interpreter so complete a medium 
 of expression as the monologue. In the presentation of a 
 
 39
 
 40 Dialects for Oral I iitcrpntation 
 
 play by one person, if presented inipersonatively, no matter 
 how skilful or inspired the performer, the very necessity 
 of dropping and assuming the pliysical attitudes and 
 actions of the various ciiaraeters tends to lessen the vivid- 
 ness of the various impersonations, and destroys, to an 
 extent, the unity of the presentation. In the monologue 
 all the possibilities of the play are present, and on the 
 side of conception and imagination many more. The in- 
 terpreter has at his command a means of revelation at once 
 intense, imaginative, subtle, and interesting. Through him 
 the audience sees the effect of circumstances and events 
 focused upon a single character whose complete reactions 
 may be revealed. They are able to catch, in half-lights as 
 it were, the look and sound of other characters, and to 
 gather in many instances a very definite idea of characters 
 that never speak: for instance, the Duchess in "My Last 
 Duchess. ' ' 
 
 This form of expression demands that all the skill and 
 all the powers of the interpreter be brought into full play. 
 It is more subjective, more intense, and more suggestive 
 than the play. Its rendition is far more difficult than any 
 reading or recitation, for it has to be lived and acted 
 precisely as does the play. The conversation does not con- 
 sist of abstractions, but takes place in a definite situation, 
 and reveals the experience, past or present, of a human 
 soul. It becomes, as we have said, in every case intensely 
 personal. 
 
 The elder Coquelin, who was a great raonologist as well 
 as great actor, once said: "The more utterly the reciter is 
 forgotten while he speaks, the better he is remembered, 
 and the longer, after he is silent." The monologue offers 
 this possibility of absorption, for it is the business of the 
 interpreter of the monologue to focus attention entirely
 
 Discussion 41 
 
 upon the character speaking and the story revealed. Ruth 
 Draper, so skilled an interpreter in this particular type 
 of presentation, furnishes a striking example of how com- 
 pletely and artistically this end may be achieved. 
 
 Speaking of the rendering of monologues, we have as 
 great a variety in the manner of presentation in this form 
 of writing alone, I think, as in all the other forms put to- 
 gether. "We have presenting in costume and out, with some 
 "properties" and with none, with "settings" and without. 
 "We have monologues varying all the way from the noble 
 and inspired utterances of some of Browning's finest 
 poems, together with his intensely emotional and dramatic 
 selections, on through all shades and kinds of emotion to 
 the wildest burlesque, and revelations of idiosyncrasy, 
 weakness, or inane situation. Apparently writers find it 
 a convenient form of expression, and certainly there should 
 be a wide choice for public presentation. 
 
 In general, the reader is apt to err upon the side of too 
 much "show." The presentation becomes stagy, declama- 
 tory, theatrical, and spectacular. The inclusion of "prop- 
 erties," often unwisely considered, mars the unity of the 
 performance. Dr. Curry says of this: "The use of prop- 
 erties should be governed by the laws of significance, 
 centrality, and consistency." Since properties are sure to 
 appeal to the eye, it is evident that extreme care should 
 be taken in their introduction. Dr. Curry says further: 
 "Whenever any article of dress is a necessary part of the 
 character and has an inherent relation to the story or the 
 thought, when it becomes an essential part of the expres- 
 sion, then it may properly be employed." 
 
 In all monologues points concerning the "speaker," the 
 "hearer," the "place," and the "situation" should be 
 carefully considered. Should the scene be "on stage" in
 
 42 Dialects fur Oral I iitcrprciation 
 
 part or completely ? Does the audience become the ' ' hearer ' ' 
 iu some instances? Should the "speaker" in a monologue 
 ever address the audience directly, and if so when? Are 
 some monologues much more capable of full impersonation 
 than others, and are there not many selections that might 
 not be usually thought of as monologues which would bene- 
 fit in interpretation by being so considered? Certainly 
 many of Browning's "lyrics" gain in significance and are 
 much more easily understood if so considered. These and 
 other questions should be answered by a careful analysis 
 of the material of each selection. Such clarification would 
 tend in every instance to add to the student's knowledge 
 and develop his powers for interpretation in the monologue 
 form. 
 
 The selections in this book, then, being so largely mono- 
 logues, should be studied in the light of the suggestions 
 here given. Being Dialect as well as monologue, they have, 
 I believe, an even greater value for the developmental 
 practice of every student in expression.
 
 PART II 
 MATERIAL FOR INTERPRETATION 
 
 SECTION VI 
 SCOTCH
 
 SECTION VI 
 SCOTCH 
 
 (See also ** Modern Literature for Oral Interpretation," 
 Johnson, page 264, prose.) 
 
 SHE LIKED HIM RALE WELL 
 
 The Spring had brought out the green leaf on the trees, 
 
 An ' the flowers were unfolding their sweets tae the bees. 
 
 When Jock says tae Jenny, ' ' Come, Jenny, agree. 
 
 An' say the bit word that ye '11 marry me." 
 
 She held doon her held like a lily sae meek. 
 
 An' the blush o' the rose flew awa' frae her cheek. 
 
 But she said, "Gang awa', man! 
 
 Your heid's in a creel." 
 She didna let on that she liked him rale weel — 
 
 Oh ! she liked him rale weel — 
 
 Aye, she liked him rale weel ! 
 But she didna let on that she liked him rale weel. 
 
 Then Jock says, ' ' Oh, Jenny, for a twalmonth an ' mair, 
 Ye ha'e kept me just hangin' 'twixt hope an' despair. 
 But, oh ! Jenny, last night something whispered tae me 
 That I'd better lie doon at the dyke-side an' dee." 
 Tae keep Jock in life, she gave in tae be tied ; 
 An ' soon they were booked, an ' three times they were cried. 
 
 45
 
 •46 Dialects for Oral I ulcrprctalion 
 
 Love danced in Jock's heart, an' liope joined the reel — 
 He was snre that his Jenny did like him rale weel — 
 
 Oh ! she liked him rale weel! 
 
 Aye, she liked him rale weel ! 
 But she never let on that she liked him rale weel. 
 
 "When the wedding day cam', tae the manse they did stap, 
 An' there they got welcome frae Mr. Dunlap, 
 Wha chained them to love's matrimonial stake, 
 Syne they took a dram an' a mouthfu' o' cake. 
 Then the minister said, "Jock, be kind tae your Jenny, 
 Nae Linger she's tied to the string o' her minnie; 
 Noo, Jenny, will ye aye be couthie an' leal?" 
 * ' Yes, sir ; oh, yes, for I like him rale weel ! ' ' 
 
 Aye, she liked him rale weel ! 
 
 Oh ! she liked him rale weel ! 
 At last she owned up that she liked him rale weel ! 
 
 Andrew Waxdess 
 
 THE TWA WEELUMS 
 
 I'm Sairgint Weelum Henderson frae Pairth, 
 
 That 's wha I am ! 
 
 There's just ae regimint in a' the airth 
 
 That 's worth a damn ; 
 
 An' gin the bonniest fechter o' the lot 
 
 Ye seek to see, 
 
 Him that's the best — whaur ilka man's a Scot — 
 
 Speir you at me! 
 
 Gin there's a hash o' Gairmans pitten oot 
 By aichts an' tens. 
 
 That Wully Henderson's been thereaboot 
 A 'body kens;
 
 Material for Interpretation 47 
 
 Fegs-aye! Yon Weelum that's in Gairmanie, 
 He hadna' reckoned 
 
 Wi' Sairgint Weelum Henderson an' wi' 
 The Forty-Second! 
 
 Yon day we lichtit on the shores o' France, 
 
 The lassies standin' 
 
 Trod ilk on ither's taes to get the chance 
 
 To see us landin'. 
 
 The besoms ! they smiled to me — an ' yet 
 
 They couldna' help it. 
 
 (Mysel', I just was thinkin' hoo we'd get 
 
 They Gairmans skelpit.) 
 
 I'm wearied wi' them for it's aye the same 
 
 Whaure'er we gang, 
 
 Our Captain thinks we've got his een to blame, 
 
 But man! he's wrang! 
 
 I winna say he's no as smairt a lad 
 
 As ye micht see 
 
 Atween twa Sawbiths — aye, he's no sae bad, 
 
 But he 's no me ! 
 
 Weel, let the linuners bide ; their bonnie lips 
 
 Are fine an' reid, 
 
 But me an' Weelum 's got to get to grips 
 
 Afore we're deid, 
 
 An' gin he thinks he hasna' met his match 
 
 He'll sune be wiser — 
 
 Here 's to myself ! Here 's to the auld Black Watch ! 
 
 An' damn the Kaiser! 
 
 Violet Jacob.
 
 48 DiaUits for Oral Interpntaiiun 
 
 THE BANKS 0' DOON 
 
 Ye banks and braes o' bonie Doon, 
 
 IIow can ye bloom sae fresh and fair! 
 How can ye chant, ye little birds, 
 
 And I sae weary f u ' o ' care ! 
 Thou 'It break my heart, thou warbling bird, 
 
 That wantons thro ' the flowering thorn ; 
 Thou minds me o' departed joys, 
 
 Departed — never to return. 
 
 Thou 'It break my heart, thou bonie bird. 
 
 That sings beside thy mate, 
 For sae I sat, and sae I sang, 
 
 And wist na o' my fate. 
 Aft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon, 
 
 To see the rose and woodbine twine; 
 And ilka bird sang o' its luve. 
 
 And fondly sae did I o' mine. 
 
 Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, 
 
 Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree; 
 And my fause luver stole my rose, 
 
 But ah! he left the thorn wi' me. 
 Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose 
 
 Upon a morn in June; 
 And sae I flourish 'd on the morn, 
 
 And sae was pxi'd on noon. 
 
 Robert Burns.
 
 Material for Interpretation 49 
 
 ''THE WIFE HE WANTS" 
 
 I hae a wee thoeht in my held, 
 
 A wee thoeht, naethin' mair, 
 
 That 'gin I saw a lass I lik'd, 
 
 I micht think weel to pair. 
 
 I want nae wife to spoil my life, 
 
 Hoo rich soe'er she be, 
 
 Sae what I like, and what dislike, 
 
 It's juist as well to see. 
 
 I want nae lang-legg'd hizzy here 
 
 My wee bit hoose to share. 
 
 Wha wants twa yairds or mair o' wife? 
 
 It isn't me, I'll swear. 
 
 She micht forget to duck her heid, 
 
 The ceilin's rather low; 
 
 I winna hae the plaster crack 'd 
 
 A' candidates should know. 
 
 I winna mairry by the ton. 
 And, therefore, want to say, 
 I '11 hae nae big fat sowdy lass 
 Trapesin' roon' this way. 
 The furniture's a wee bit auld, 
 I'm no sure o' the stairs. 
 A wechty woman's gey severe, 
 Especially on chairs. 
 
 But tho' I dinna want her fat 
 She maunna be too lean ; 
 There's little comfort wi' a wife 
 That, sideways, can't be seen.
 
 50 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 1 want nae hippopotamus 
 But still she must be roon', 
 Banos rattlin' when she mov'd aboot 
 "Wad hae an eerie soon'. 
 
 She maunna hae big feet the lass 
 
 That wants wi' me to wed, 
 
 I'll hae nae bettlin '-engines here 
 
 To fill my life w'i' dread. 
 
 Besides, I hae improv'd the roads 
 
 Aboot this bit o' fairm, 
 
 And muckled poondin' o' them noo 
 
 "Wad do a dale o' hairm. 
 
 For reasons I will here expleen 
 
 I canna hae rid hair — 
 
 ]My hairt is no' the strangest pairt 
 
 The doctors a' declare. 
 
 If I cam' hame too sudden like 
 
 And saw my wife's rid heid, 
 
 I might suspeck the hoose afire 
 
 And faint awa' elane deid. 
 
 That I command, that she obeys, 
 
 The lassie maun concede. 
 
 I baud wi' Paul in this remark, 
 
 "The husband is the heid." 
 
 It's ae thing that I winna stan', 
 
 A want ' due respeck ; 
 
 To ony lass that wants to rule 
 
 I sartinly objeck. 
 
 And yet I'm no the man to fuss 
 For pure objecktin's sake,
 
 Material for Interpretation 51 
 
 I ken that in this mortal life 
 
 We hae to give and take. 
 
 And gin the lassie's wise and guid 
 
 And daeent as to rank, 
 
 I'll no objeck that she should hae 
 
 A pickle in the bank. 
 
 John Stevenson. 
 
 THE TWA COURTIN'S 
 
 Behold twa auld wives seated at the fireside drinking 
 the blackest of tea, the old brown teapot at the fire, 
 blackened with use and broken at the stroup. 
 
 "Eh, woman, but that's grand tea — it sticks to the roof 
 o' yer moo! Nane o' yer new-fangled German silver tea- 
 pots for me; ye dinna get the guid o' the tea unless it 
 stands half an hour at the fire." 
 
 There they sit, crackling ower their young days, the one 
 nervous, thin, black-eyed — poetic ; the other squat and 
 stout, practised, matter-of-fact — prosaic. But they both 
 enjoy a gossip, and kickle ower the stories o' their courtin', 
 the recollection of which seems even sweeter than the 
 reality. 
 
 "Eh, but thae were grand days, thae young days! Well 
 dae I mind — dear me, this is the very nicht forty years 
 sin that oor John socht me for his wife. I'll tell ye the 
 whole story — if ye '11 promise to tell me what your man 
 said to you when he socht you; but ye mauna repeat it, 
 mind ye, to ony other body. 
 
 "John and me had gane thegither for five year. It's a 
 lang time, and I began to weary on John — a woman 
 doesna like to hing on ower lang, ye ken — I was beginnin'
 
 52 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 to be feared that if he didna speak soon he widna 
 speak ava. 
 
 "Tuesday nichts and Friday nichts were John's nichts, 
 so John and me were rale sib. Weel, ye ken my faither's 
 hoose stood in the middle o' a garden, and when John cam 
 to see me he grae three raps on the window. Some chiels 
 gae twa raps and some four raps and a whistle, but oor 
 John, ye ken, just gae three raps. Weel, this nicht we 
 were a-sittin' at the fireside, three raps cam to the window, 
 and my heart gae a dunt, for I kenned it was him. But I 
 never let on, ye ken. By and by I laid doon the stockin' 
 I was darnin' and slipit oot quietly, and says I, 'Is that 
 you, John?' and oot o' the dark a deep voice says, 'Ay, 
 it's me, Janet.' Then I heard a motion among the bushes, 
 and it cam' nearer and nearer till John was at my side, 
 and eh! sic a wark he made wi' me!" 
 
 "Eh, woman, look at that de'il o' a laddie glowerin' at 
 ye and takin' a' ye say." 
 
 "Hoots, awa', woman! the laddie's ower young to under- 
 stand oor clavers. Here's a piece an' treacle tae ye, 
 Davie. That'll shut his mouth and his lugs baith. 
 
 "Weel, awa doon the brae we gaed thegither. 'It's a 
 fine nicht,' says I. 'Grand weather for the craps,' says 
 John ; but no anither word did he speak. John was never 
 a great hand at sayin' muckle, and this nicht he was waur 
 than ever. So doon the brae we gaed, and I fand John's 
 arm slippin' round my waist. By and by I made believe 
 to miss my foot, ye ken, and that gar'd John baud me 
 tighter. I'm tellin' ye the whole truth, altho' I think 
 black burnin' shame. Folks thinks that it's the lads that 
 coorts the lasses. It's naethin' o' the kind. It's the lasses 
 that coorts the lads, for I'm sure if I hadna gi'en John 
 ^a hand, he never hae gotten on ava.
 
 Material for Interpretation 58 
 
 "Eat awa' at yer piece and treacle, laddie, and dinna ye 
 glower at me like that. 
 
 "Weel, at the foot o' the brae we sat aneath a bus', 
 whaur there waur just room for John and me, and its 
 bonnie branches hid us frae every mortal e'e. Even the 
 impertinent man in the moon, that sees sae mony things 
 he shouldna see, couldna see in on us that nicht. There 
 we sat a lang time, and John as usual said naething, but 
 a' this time his arm was roond my waist, and at last it 
 began to shake, and he said, 'Janet,' and thinks I to mysel', 
 'I've catched John at last'; but something stuck in his 
 throat, for he said nae mair. And there we sat and sat 
 an ' better sat an ' eh ! we were sae happy ! ' Surely, ' thinks 
 I, 'this is heaven upon earth.' But all of a sudden John 
 astonished me, for a better behaved young man never lived, 
 he took a baud o' my head and he pressed it till his bosom 
 and I fand his heart knock, k-nock, k-nockin' against my 
 lug, and says he to me, says he: 'Janet, Janet, w-w-will 
 ye, will ye marry me?' Eh, woman, wasna I rieht glad to 
 hear that ! But a lassie canna expect to hear that very often 
 in her life, so she maunna be in a hurry to answer. The 
 tears were rinnin' doon my cheeks, John's arm was roond 
 my waist, and my head was on John's bosom, and his 
 heart was knockin' waur than ever. But I didna wait 
 ower lang, for fear I should lose him a 'th 'gither ; so says I 
 to him, says I: 'Jo-o-hn yes,' and wi' that oor John 
 gaed clean daft a 'th 'gither, and he fairly worried me up 
 wi' kisses." 
 
 "Hoot awa', woman," said the prosaic wife, "sic on- 
 gaeins! i\Iy man and me were na' sic fools. When my 
 man cam' to see me, he cam' into the hoose like ony 
 decent man — to be sure there was nane but him and me 
 in the hoose at the time — and he sits doon in my faither's
 
 54 Dialicts for Oral Interpretation 
 
 chair, puts one log ower the tither, and toasts his taes 
 at the tire. 'Ony news?' says I. 'Ou! ay,' says he; 'I've 
 ta'en a hooso.' 'Ta'en a hoose, ' says I, *Ay ! ta'en a hoose, 
 and funiishin' a hoose.' *Losh be here,' quo I, 'ta'en a 
 hoose and f urnishin ' a hoose ! wha are ye f urnishin ' the 
 hoose for?' 'I'm furnishin' the hoose for you.' 'Oh, if 
 that be the way o't, it wad be a great pity to lose the 
 guid furnitur'." 
 
 David Kennedy. 
 
 ]MY AIN FIRESIDE 
 
 O, I hae seen great anes and sat in great ha's, 
 'Mang lords and 'mang ladies a' cover 'd wi' braws; 
 But a sight sae delightful I trow I ne'er spied 
 As the bonnie blj'the blink o' my ain fireside, 
 My ain fireside, my ain fireside, 
 0, sweet is the blink o' my ain fireside. 
 
 Ance mair, heaven be praised! round my ain heartsome 
 ingle, 
 
 Wi' the frien's o' my youth I cordially mingle; 
 
 Nae forms to compel me to seem wae or glad, 
 
 I may laugh when I'm merry and sigh when I'm sad. 
 My ain fireside, my ain fireside, 
 0, sweet is the blink o' my ain fireside. 
 
 Nae falsehood to dread, nae malice to fear, 
 
 But truth to delight me, and friendship to cheer 
 
 O' a' roads to happiness ever were tried. 
 
 There's nane half so sure as ane's ain fireside, 
 My ain fireside, my ain fireside, 
 0, sweet is the blink o' my ain fireside. 
 
 William H. Hamilton.
 
 Material for Interpretation 55 
 
 WHY NO SCOTCHMEN GO TO HEAVEN 
 
 Long years ago, in times so remote that history does not 
 fix the epoch, a dreadful war was waged by the king of 
 Scotland. Scottish valor prevailed; and the king of Scot- 
 land, elated by success, sent for his prime minister. 
 
 *'Weel, Sandy," said he, '"is there ne'er a king we 
 eanna conquer noo?" 
 
 "An' it please your majesty, I ken a king that your 
 majesty canna vanquish." 
 
 "An' who is he, Sandy?" 
 
 The prime minister, reverently looking up, said, "The 
 King o' heaven." 
 
 "The king of whaur, Sandy?" 
 
 "The King o' heaven." 
 
 The Scottish king did not understand, but was unwill- 
 ing to exhibit any ignorance. 
 
 "Just gang your ways, Sandy, and tell King o' heaven 
 to gi'e up his dominions, or I'll come mysel' and ding 
 him oot o' them; and mind you, Sandy, you dinna come 
 back to us until ye ha'e dune oor biddin'." 
 
 The prime minister retired much perplexed, and 
 met a priest, and reassured, returned and presented him- 
 self. 
 
 "Weel, Sandy," said the king, "ha'e ye seen the King 
 o' heaven? and what says he to our biddin'?" 
 
 "An it please your majesty, I ha'e seen one of his ac- 
 credited ministers." 
 
 "Weel, and what says he?" 
 
 "He says your majesty may e'en ha'e his kingdom for 
 the axin' o' it." 
 
 "Was he sae civil?" asked the king warming to magna-
 
 56 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 nimity. "Just ^iuig your ways back, Sandy, an' tell the 
 King o' heaven that for liis eivility the de'il a Scotchman 
 shall set foot in his kingdom." 
 
 "DID YOU EVER?" 
 
 Did you ever see the sun 
 When his day's wark's nearly done, 
 Wi' his hand stuck in his pocket 
 And his held to one side cockit, 
 Smilin' beams of golden light? 
 While he's waitin' for the night? 
 
 Did you ever see the sea 
 Take it easy-like, a wee, 
 Wi' the gulls aboon her cryin', 
 And she at fu' length lyin' 
 On her bed o' broon seaweed 
 Wi' her hands beneath her held? 
 
 Did you ever see the moon 
 On a winter afternoon 
 Mak' a lookin '-glass o' water; 
 See the mirror quickly shatter 
 As it lay before your sight 
 Into bits o' silver light? 
 
 Did you ever hear the trees 
 
 Talk in whispers to the breeze 
 
 O' the Spring and Summer glories; 
 
 Laughin' at the funny stories, 
 
 That sae cunnin'ly he weaves, 
 
 Till their laughter shakes the leaves? 
 
 1
 
 Material for Interpretation 57 
 
 Did you ever see the stars 
 
 Ridin' roon' the sky on cars 
 
 Made o' clouds and mists and vapours, 
 
 Winkin', shootiu', cuttin' capers, 
 
 Playin' hide-and-seek, bo-peep, 
 
 When the moon is fast asleep? 
 
 Never saw sic things, ye said, 
 
 Why, wherever were ye bred. 
 
 Bootless in some toonship smoky 
 
 Whaur the air is thick and choky, 
 
 Whaur they hae nae sun nor moon, 
 
 Nor a breeze to play a tune. 
 
 Or to tell a funny story; 
 
 Whaur the water's mirror 'd glory, 
 
 Sleepin' sea and starry blue, 
 
 Are for ever hid frae view. 
 
 Och, I petty ye — I do. 
 
 John Stevenson. 
 
 MY AIN WIFE 
 
 KEN ye no' my ain wife, 
 
 Sae cheery, young, an' free; 
 O saw ye ne'er my ain wife. 
 
 She's mair than gowd to me; 
 Sae bonny, thrifty, neat and kind, 
 
 Sae fu' o' sense and glee; 
 O wha kens no my ain wife, 
 Kens no' what wives should be! 
 
 Sae patient, loving, blithe, an' true, 
 
 At least she's sae to me! 
 0, I wadna gie my ain wife 
 For ony wife I see!
 
 58 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 Our hame, it is a cosy hame, 
 
 Our garden is na' sma'; 
 ^ly wife amaiig her blossoms blooms 
 
 The sweetest of them a ' ; 
 The rose an' lily on her cheeks 
 
 Are mingled baith sae fair, 
 I often think the blushing things 
 Hae found their beauty there: 
 
 She's mair sweet than the sweetest flower, 
 
 At least she 's sae to me ! 
 O, I wadna gie my ain wife 
 For ony wife I see! 
 
 The mavis on the sycamore, 
 
 The lintie on the spray, 
 The laverock quivering up the sky, 
 
 Sing sweet at break o ' day. 
 O ilka bird that ever sang, 
 On tree or joyous wing, 
 Wad cease its sweetest happy strain 
 To hear my wifie sing ! 
 
 Sae fu' o' feeling is her voice, 
 
 At least it's sae to me; 
 O, I wadna gie my ain wife 
 For ony wife I see ! 
 
 Francis Bennoch. 
 
 HIGHLAND MARY 
 
 Ye bauKS, and braes, and streams around 
 
 The castle o' Montgomery, 
 Green be your woods, and fair your flowers. 
 
 Your waters never drumlie !
 
 Material for Interpretation 59 
 
 There simmer first unfauld her robes, 
 
 And there the langest tarry ! 
 For there I tooli the last fareweel 
 
 0' my sweet Higliland Mary. 
 
 How sweetly bloom 'd the gay green birk. 
 
 How ricli the hawthorn's blossom! 
 As underneath their fragrant shade, 
 
 I clasp 'd her to my bosom ! 
 The golden hours, on angel wings, 
 
 Flew 'er me and my dearie ; 
 For dear to me as light and life, 
 
 Was my sweet Highland Mary. 
 
 Wi' mony a vow, and lock'd embrace, 
 
 Our parting was fu' tender; 
 And, pledging aft to meet again. 
 
 We tore oursels asunder ; 
 But Oh ! fell death 's untimely frost, 
 
 That nipt my flower sae early ! 
 Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay, 
 
 That wraps my Highland Mary! 
 
 O pale, pale now those rosy lips 
 
 I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly! 
 And closed for aye the sparkling glance. 
 
 That dwelt on me sae kindly! 
 And mouldering now in silent dust. 
 
 That heart that lo 'ed me dearly ! 
 But still within my bosom's core. 
 
 Shall live my Highland Mary. 
 
 Robert Burns.
 
 60 Dialt'cis for Oral I ntcrprctation 
 
 CUDDLE DOON 
 
 The bairuies cuddle doon at niclit 
 
 \Vi' muckle faucht an' din, 
 "Oh, try and sleep, ye waukrife rogues; 
 
 Your father's comin' in." 
 They never heed a word I speak, 
 
 I try to gie a f roon ; 
 But aye I hap them up an' cry 
 
 "Oh, bairnies, cuddle doon!" 
 
 Wee Jamie wi' the curly heid — 
 
 He aye sleeps next the wa' — 
 Bangs up an' cries, "I want a piece"— 
 
 The rascal starts them a'. 
 I rin an' fetch them pieces, drinks — 
 
 Then stop awee the soun' — 
 Then draw the blankets up, and cry, 
 
 "Noo, weanies, cuddle doon!" 
 
 But ere five minutes gang, wee Rab 
 
 Cries out frae 'neath the claes, 
 "Mither, mak' Tarn gie ower at ance; 
 
 He's kittlin' wi his taes. " 
 The mischief's in that Tam for tricks: 
 
 He'd bother half the toon, 
 But aye I hap them up and cry, 
 
 "Oh, bairnies, cuddle doon!" 
 
 At length they hear their father's fit; 
 
 An' as he steeks the door, 
 They turn their faces to the wa', 
 
 While Tam pretends to snore.
 
 Material for Interpretation 61 
 
 "Hae a' the weans been gude?" he asks, 
 
 As he pits off his shoon. 
 "The bairnies, John, are in their beds, 
 
 An' lang since cuddled doon." 
 
 An' just afore we bed oorsels, 
 
 We look at oor wee lambs. 
 Tarn has his airm roun' wee Rab's neck, 
 
 And Rab his airm roun' Tam's. 
 I lift wee Jamie up the bed, 
 
 An' as I straik each croon, 
 I whisper till my heart fills up, 
 
 "Oh, bairnies, cuddle doon!" 
 
 The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht 
 
 Wi' mirth that's dear to me; 
 But soon the big warl's cark an' care 
 
 Will quaten doon their glee. 
 Yet come what will to ilka ane. 
 
 May He who sits aboon 
 Aye whisper, though their pows be bauld, 
 
 ' ' Oh, bairnies, cuddle doon ! ' ' 
 
 Alexander Anderson, 
 
 A SCOTCH WOOING 
 
 (A story is told of a Scotchman who, loving a lassie, desired her 
 for his wife. But he possessed the prudence of his race. He had 
 noticed in his own circle many an otherwise promising union result 
 in disappointment and dismay, purely in consequence of the false 
 estimate formed by bride or bridegroom concerning the imagined 
 perfections of the other. He determined that in his own case no 
 collapsed ideal should be possible. Therefore it was that the follow- 
 ing proposal took place.)
 
 62 Didlrcts for Oral I i}icrpr< taiinn 
 
 " I "in l)ut a piiir lad, Jonnio; I hao iiao siller to offer ye, 
 and iiao land." 
 
 "Ah, bnt ye hae yonrsol', Davie!" 
 
 "An' I'm Avishfu' it wa' onything else, lassie. I'm uae 
 but a piiir ill-seasoned loon, Jennie." 
 
 "Na, na; there's money a lad mair ill-looking than 
 yersel', Davie." 
 
 "I hae na seen him, lass, and I'm just a-thinkin' I 
 shouldna' care to." 
 
 "Better a plain man, Davie, that ye can depend on than 
 ane that would be a-speirin' at the lassies, a-bringin' 
 trouble into the hame wi' his flouting ways." 
 
 "Dinna ye reckon on that, Jennie; it's nae the bonniest 
 Bubbly-Joek that maks the most feathers to fly in the 
 kailj'ard. I was ever a lad to run after the petticoats, as 
 is weel kent; an' it's a weary handfu' I'll be to ye, I'm 
 thinkin'." 
 
 "Ah, but ye hae a kind heart, Davie! an' ye love me 
 weel. I'm sure on't." 
 
 "I like ye weel enoo', Jennie, though I canna say how 
 long the feeling may abide wi' me; an' I'm kind enoo' 
 when I hae my ain way, an naethin' happens to put me 
 oot. But I hae the deevil's ain temper, as my mither can 
 tell ye, an', like my puir fayther, I'm a-thinkin' I'll grow 
 nae better as I grow mair auld. " 
 
 "Ay, but ye 're sair hard upon yersel', Davie. Ye 're an 
 honest lad. I ken ye better than ye ken yersel', an' ye '11 
 mak a guid hame for me." 
 
 "Maybe, Jennie! But I hae my doots. It's a sair thing 
 for wife and bairns w'hen the guid man canna keep awa' 
 frae the glass; an' when the scent of the whusky comes 
 to me it's just as though I hae'd the throat o' a Loch Tay 
 salmon; it just gaes doon an' doon, an' ther's nae filling 
 o' me."
 
 Material for Interpretation 63 
 
 "Ay, but ye 're a guid man when ye 're sober, Davie." 
 "Maybe I'll be that, Jennie, if I'm nae disturbed." 
 "An ye '11 bide wi' me, Davie, an' work for me?" 
 * * I see nae reason why I shouldna bide wi ' ye, Jennie ; 
 but dinna ye clack aboot work to me, for I just canna bear 
 the thoct o't." 
 
 "Anyhow, ye '11 do your best, Davie? As the minister 
 says, nae man can do mair than that." 
 
 "An' it's a puir best that mine '11 be, Jennie, and I'm 
 nae sae sure ye '11 hae ower muckle even o' that. We're a' 
 weak, sinfu' creatures, Jennie, an' ye'd hae some deeffi- 
 culty to fin' a man weaker or mair sinfu' than mysel'." 
 
 "Weel, weel, ye hae a truthfu' tongue, Davie. Mony a 
 lad will mak fine promises to a puir lassie, only to break 
 'em an' heart wi' 'em. Ye speak me fair, Davie, and I'm 
 thinkin' I'll just tak ye, an' see what comes o't." 
 
 Jerome K. Jerom£. 
 (From "Three Men on the Bummel.") 
 
 AULD DADDY DARKNESS 
 
 AuLD Daddy Darkness creeps frae his hole, 
 Black as a blackamoor, blin' as a mole; 
 Stir the fire till it lowes, let the bairnie sit, 
 Auld Daddy Darkness is no wantit yet. 
 
 See him in the corners hidin' frae the licht, 
 See him at the window gloomin' at the nicht; 
 Turn up the gas licht, close the shutters a'. 
 An ' Auld Daddy Darkness will flee far awa '. 
 
 Awa' to hide the birdie within its cosy nest, 
 Awa' to lap the wee flooers on their mither 's breast, 
 Awa' to loosen Gaffer Toil frae his daily ca', 
 For Auld Daddy Darkness is kindly to a'.
 
 61 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 He comes when we 're weary to wean 's f rae oor waes, 
 He comes wiien the bairnies are getting aff their claes ; 
 To cover them sac cosy, an' bring bonnie dreams, 
 So Ankl Daddy Darkness is better than he seems. 
 
 Steek yer ecn, my wee tot, ye '11 see Daddy then ; 
 He's in below the bed claes, to cuddle ye he's fain ; 
 Noo nestle in his bosie, sleep and dream yer fill, 
 Till Wee Davie Daylicht comes keekin, owre the hill. 
 
 James Fergiison. 
 
 LAST MAY A BRAW WOOER 
 
 Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen, 
 And sair wi' his love he did deave me; 
 
 I said there was naething I hated like men. 
 The deuce gae wi'm, to believe me, believe me, 
 The deuce gae wi'm, to believe me! 
 
 He spak o' the darts in my bonnie black een, 
 And vow'd for my love he was deein'; 
 
 I said he might dee when he liked, for Jean, 
 The Lord forgive me for leein', for leein', 
 The Lord forgive me for leein ' ! 
 
 A weel-stocked mailen, — himsel' for the laird, — 
 And marriage aff-hand, were his proffer: 
 
 I never loot on that I kenn'd it, or car'd. 
 
 But thought I might hae waur offers, waur offers. 
 But thought I might hae waur offers. 
 
 But what wad ye think? in a fortnight or less, — 
 The deil tak his taste to gae near her!
 
 Material for Interpretation 65 
 
 He up the lang loan to my black cousin Bess, 
 
 Guess ye how, the jad ! I could bear her, could bear her, 
 Guess ye how, the jad ! I could bear her. 
 
 But a' the neist week as I petted wi' care, 
 
 I gaed to the tryst o' Dalgarnock, 
 And wha but my fine fickle lover was there! 
 
 I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock, a warlock, 
 
 I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock. 
 
 But owre my left shoulther I ga'e him a blink, 
 
 Lest neebors might say I was saucy; 
 My wooer he caper 'd as he'd been in drink, 
 
 And vow'd I was his dear lassie, dear lassie, 
 
 And vow'd I was his dear lassie. 
 
 I spier 'd for my cousin fu' couthy and sweet, 
 
 Gin she had recover 'd her hearin'. 
 And how her new shoon fit her auld shachl'd feet. 
 
 But, heavens! how he fell a swearin', a swearin', 
 
 But, heavens! how he fell a swearin'! 
 
 He begged, for gudesake ! I wad be his wife, 
 
 Or else I wad kill him wi' sorrows: 
 So e'en to preserve the poor body in life, 
 
 I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow, 
 
 I think I maun wed him to-morrow. 
 
 Robert Burns. 
 
 THE ARTIST 
 
 His claes were thin and shabby when first he reached this 
 
 pairt, 
 Wi' box o' pents and brushes and a big sowl fu' o' Airt.
 
 66 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 His purse was thin and hungry wi' a leanness sair to see; 
 Its twa sides clapp'd thegither just as lean as lean could be. 
 
 He pented land and seascapes, and he didna pent them ill, 
 And tuk leeberties wi' Nature for to mak' them finer still. 
 
 He pented a' his simmer skies a double extra blue, 
 Nae Antrim sky since Adam leev'd had ever sic a hue. 
 
 He acted very leeberal to mountains as to height, 
 
 And gied them a' a thousan' feet aboon their size by right. 
 
 And whaur the coast had naethin' hard to meet the billows' 
 
 shocks, 
 He thocht it only fair to paint a wheen o' craggy rocks. 
 
 A lak or twa he would insart to change the country's 
 
 face, 
 And trees in twas and threes and groves he dabb'd a' 
 
 ow'r the place. 
 
 He even in his pieters wad the times and saisons change. 
 Had new-born lambs at harvest time — a thing we thocht 
 was strange. 
 
 "Imagination, aye," he said, "should guide the penter's 
 hand," 
 
 And that, of course, explained the things we didna under- 
 stand. 
 
 He wark'd wi' mortial industry and few divarteesements, 
 The wal was hard put to to find the water for his pents. 
 
 And, week by week, he bundled aff to London picter men 
 His landscapes and his seascapes and his studies o' the glen.
 
 Material for Interpretation 67 
 
 But still the puir wee purse was lean, its twa sides did 
 
 adhere, 
 Its stomach hadna shelter 'd goold for nigh upon a year. 
 
 In sheer despair anither sketch, his biggest yet, he tried, — 
 A sheet o' three feet lang or mair and maybe twa feet 
 wide — 
 
 A masterpiece it was to be o' airtist's brain and hand, 
 He show'd the distant Scottish shore and miles o' sea and 
 land. 
 
 He put in a ' that for these pairts Dame Nature had decreed, 
 And things she hadna thocht o' he invented frae his held. 
 
 He made a reef o' wicked rocks rin right acrass the bay, 
 He used his verra deepest blue to reprisint the say. 
 
 Behind big Billy Shepherd's hoose he made a mountain be 
 And planted his bog-medda wi' a cur'ous kind of tree. 
 
 He shifted objects till he found their maist effective spot. 
 And in the foremost foregrun plac'd auld Peggy Martin's 
 cot. 
 
 Auld Peggy was a widdy wife wi temper and a tongue 
 That talk'd three husbands to their graves while yet a 
 woman young. 
 
 Her hoose was puir and Airt is Airt, but still I must admit 
 He took ow'r mony leeberties the day he pented it. 
 
 He made the wa's a' tumble-doon and slimy green and foul. 
 And took the chimney aff the hoose to plase his artist sowl.
 
 C8 Diah'cis for Oral I iilcrprt tdlion 
 
 It wadiia weel ag:ree wi' that to hae it -waterproof, 
 Sae holes in great variety he dotted ow 'r the roof. 
 
 The windys a' were stuffed wi' rags to make them 
 
 harmoneeze, 
 And just inside the kitchen daur a braw pig stood at ease. 
 
 The midden that behind the byre was found in Peggy's 
 
 case, 
 He pented right forninst the door in a convanient place. 
 
 The picter finished to his taste the puir eonsaited wretch 
 Invited Peg, then passin' near, come and see the sketch. 
 
 She cam' wi' smiles, her can o' suds she sat doon by the way 
 And apron- wip'd her airms a bit, for it was washin' day. 
 
 She look'd, she grunted, grunted mair — the smilin' face 
 
 was gone; 
 It didua need a seer to see a storm was comin' on. 
 
 *'And wha's pig-stye is that?" quo' she, "wha's pig-stye 
 
 may it be, 
 Is that my hoose? noo answer that, just answer straight 
 
 to me." 
 
 He tried to soothe the angry wife, and show'd that trate- 
 
 ment free 
 0' subjeck was the artist's right, as plain as plain could be. 
 
 "Deil tak' ye and yer subjeck and the treatment ye ca' 
 
 free. 
 It's the tratement o' the widdy that I'm thinkin' o'," 
 
 quo' she.
 
 Material for Interpretation 69 
 
 "I've slaved till I can hardly stand on my twa blissid feet 
 To hae the place look dacent-like in that there pented sheet. 
 
 "I whitewas'd a' the wa's mysel', I did them yesterday 
 I wesh'd tha windys weel wi' soap and swep' the yerd o' 
 strae. 
 
 "And that's my thanks, my gintleman, and that's the way 
 
 ye trate 
 A puir lone widdy that has got to arn her bit o' mate. 
 
 "Ye winna hae the pleasure, tho', to send abroad yer 
 
 cheat," 
 Wi ' that she dash 'd her dirty suds right ow 'er the pented 
 
 sheet. 
 
 "Ye ca' it wather-colour wark, I ca' it thrash instead, 
 But wather-colour it will be in arnest noo, " she said. 
 
 Then aff she stepp'd, her angry voice still growlin' oot 
 
 her ills, 
 Like thunder sweerin' to itsel' awa' amang the hills. 
 
 The puir wee penter man sat doon and cudna help but weep 
 While frae the sheet the dirty suds went dhreepin' dhreep- 
 a-dhreep. 
 
 And yin side o' the hungry purse said to the ither then, 
 "It's plain to me there'll naethin' come 'twixt you and 
 me again." 
 
 The penter 's een still weepin' sair fell on his pictur wet, 
 He thocht it didna look sae bad and might be savit yet.
 
 70 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 The suds that wosh'd some pent ;nva' had blended what 
 
 remained 
 To gie result the penter's skill could never hae attained. 
 
 The pietur, then, wi' doots and fears its journey did 
 
 perform 
 To London toon, and lo, behold, it took the place by storm. 
 
 It fairly took the breath awa' frae the suparior pow'rs, 
 And big folk cam' in carriages to look at it for hours. 
 
 "Hoo beautiful! hoo eggswhiskit ! " the leddies a' ex- 
 claimed, 
 
 And thro' their spy-glesses obsarv'd what penter hadn't 
 dhramed. 
 
 "Sic pearlj^ greys!" the critics said, "sic atmosphere! sic 
 
 tone! 
 It's shair the finest piece o' wark the century has shown." 
 
 The pietur papers a' prodooced the penter's photograph, 
 And a' the larn'd societies elected him straight aff. 
 
 The king that rules these kingdoms three and nane may 
 
 disobey 
 Commanded him, on penaltj'', to dine wi' him next day. 
 
 The puir wee purse sae hungry yince, wi ' elingin ' sides sae 
 
 lean. 
 Is noo about the fattest purse that ever met yer een. 
 
 And noo the penter drives his coach and gangs in stylish 
 
 duds 
 (He doesn't tell the people, the, o' Peggy and the suds). 
 
 John Stevenson.
 
 Material for Interpretation 71 
 
 WHEN MITHER'S GANE 
 
 It mak's a change in a 'thing roon* 
 
 When mither's gane. 
 
 The eat has less contented croon, 
 
 The kettle has a dowie tune, 
 
 There's naething has sae blythe a soon, 
 
 Sin' mither's gane. 
 
 The bairnies gang \vi' ragged claes, 
 Sin' mither's gane. 
 
 There's nane to mend their broken taes, 
 Or laugh at a' their pawky ways, 
 The nichts are langer than the days, 
 When mither's gane. 
 
 Wha ' cheers them when there 's ocht amiss, 
 
 Sin' mither's gane? 
 
 Wha' tak's their pairt in that or this, 
 
 An' oot o' trouble mak's a bliss, 
 
 Wi' kindly word an' guid-nicht kiss? 
 
 Dear mither's gane. 
 
 The father's there ; but losh ! puir man, 
 
 Sin' mither's gane, 
 
 Although he does the best he can, 
 
 He hasna sic a tender han' — 
 
 The bottom's oot o' nature's plan, 
 
 When mither's gane. 
 
 O lonely hoose, empty chair— 
 The mither's gane.
 
 72 Dialects for Oral Interprctatian 
 
 Yet fancy aft en sees her there, 
 Wi' a' the smiles she used to wear, 
 "Whilk brings oor hearts maist to despair 
 To think she's gane. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 COOM, LASSIE, BE GOOD TO ME 
 
 CooM, Lassie, be good to me. Winna ye, dear? 
 Ye've taken a' my hairt, ye shall hae a' my gear; 
 I wadna be gangin' aboot all alane 
 If the warld were a' siller, an' you not my ain. 
 
 The birds are a' matin', the flowers wed the grass. 
 An' you are my springtime, my ain bonnie lass; 
 Like kiss o' the sun to the life-springin' sod. 
 Put your lips to my ain ; were 1 you I wad. 
 
 My hairt is a-thumpin' like sticks on a drum, 
 Just rantin' wi' hunger; coom, gie it a crumb; 
 My eyes are a' thirstin' like night for the dew. 
 Let them drink, my ain darlin ', in one look f rae you. 
 
 Coom, fill up the crook o' my long waitin' airm, 
 I'll huddle ye close an' I'll shiel' ye frae hairm. 
 Put your han ' in my ain ; let me spier in your ear ; — 
 Coom, Lassie, be good to me. Winna ye, dear? 
 
 Charles Mcllvane.
 
 SECTION VII 
 ITALIAN
 
 SECTION VII 
 
 ITALIAN 
 
 (See also "Modern Literature for Oral Interpretation,' 
 Johnson, pages 41 and 43, poetry.) 
 
 BETWEEN TWO LOVES 
 
 I GOTTA lov' for Angela, 
 
 I lov' Carlotta, too. 
 
 I no can marry both o' dem, 
 
 So w'at I gonna do? 
 
 O! Angela ees pretta girl, 
 
 She gotta hair so black, so curl, 
 
 An' teeth so white as anytheeng. 
 
 An' O! she gotta voice to seeng, 
 
 Dat mak' your hearta feel eet must 
 
 Jump up an' dance or eet weell bust. 
 
 An' alia time she seeng; her eyes 
 
 Dey smila like Italia 's skies, 
 
 An' makin' flirtin' looks at you — 
 
 But dat ees all w'at she can do. 
 
 Carlotta ees no gotta song. 
 
 But she ees twice so big an' strong 
 
 As Angela, an' she no look 
 
 So beautiful — but she can cook. 
 
 You oughta see her carry wood ! 
 
 I tal you w'at, eet do you good. 
 
 When she ees be som'body wife 
 
 She worka hard, you bat my life!
 
 76 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 She never gattin' tired, too — 
 
 But dat ees all w'at she can do. 
 
 O! my! I weesh dat Angela 
 
 AVas strong for carry wood, 
 
 Or else Carlotta gotta song 
 
 An' looka pretta good. 
 
 I gotta lov' for Angela, 
 
 I lov' Carlotta, too. 
 
 So w'at I gonna do? 
 
 I no can marry both o' dem. 
 
 T. A. Daly. 
 
 SO GLAD FOR SPREENG 
 
 Eep som'body com' today 
 
 To dees fruita-stan' an' say: 
 
 *'Wat? Banana two for fi'? 
 
 Seems to me dat's verra high!" 
 
 I would look up een da sky 
 
 "Where da sun ees shine so bright, 
 
 An' da clouds so sof ' an' white 
 
 Sail like boats I use' to see 
 
 Een da bay at Napoli; 
 
 An' so softa theeng I am, 
 
 I would notta care a dam 
 
 Eef de customer should be 
 
 Sly enough for taka three ! 
 
 Eef like dat you com' today 
 
 Mebbe so I justa say: 
 
 **See da Tony McAroni! 
 
 He ees verray lazy thing, 
 
 "W'at da deuce he care for money? 
 
 Here ees com' da spreeng!"
 
 Material for Interpretation 77 
 
 Eef today I had a wife 
 
 An ' she say : ' ' My love ! my life ! 
 
 I mus' have fi '-dollar note 
 
 For da new spreeng hat an' coat," 
 
 Theenk I gona grab her throat, 
 
 Bang her head agains' da wall? 
 
 Eh, Today ? Oh, not at all ! 
 
 She would look so pretta dere 
 
 Weeth da sunshine on her hair, 
 
 I would look at her, an' den 
 
 I would tal her : " Taka ten ! ' * 
 
 Eef I had a wife today 
 
 I am sure dat I would say: 
 
 "All right, Mrs. McAroni, 
 
 I am verry softa theeng. 
 
 Wat de deuce I care for money? 
 
 Here ees com ' da spreeng ! ' ' 
 
 T. A. Daly. 
 
 DA 'MERICANA GIRL 
 
 I GATTA mash weeth Mag McCue, 
 
 An' she ees 'Mericana too! 
 
 Ha! w'at you theenk? Now, mebbe so, 
 
 You weell no calla me so slow 
 
 Eef som'time you can looka see 
 
 How she ees com' an' flirt weeth me. 
 
 Most evra two, free day, my fraud, 
 
 She stop by dees peanutta-stand 
 
 An' smile an' mak' da googla-eye 
 
 An' justa look at me an' sigh. 
 
 An' alia time she so excite' 
 
 She peeck som fruit an' taka bite.
 
 78 Didlicff: for Oral lutcrprctation 
 
 ! my, slic eosa look so sweet 
 I no care how iiinrli i'lMiit she oat. 
 ]\Ie? 1 am cool an' mak' protand 
 I want no more dan be her frand; 
 But een my lieart, you bat my life, 
 I theenk of her for be my wife. 
 Today I theenk: "Now I weell see 
 IIow moocha she is mash weeth me," 
 An' so I speak of dees an' dat, 
 How mooeha playnta mon' I gat. 
 How mooch I makin' evra day 
 An' w'at I spand an' put away. 
 An' den I ask, so queeck, so sly: 
 "You theenk som' pretta girl weell try 
 For lovin' me a lettla beet?" — 
 ! ^ly ! she eesa blush so sweet ! — 
 "An' eef I ask her lika dees 
 For geevin' me a leetla keess, 
 You s'pose she geeve me van or two?" 
 She tal me: " Twenty-t 'ree for you!" 
 An' den she laugh so sweet, an' say: 
 ' ' Skeeddoo ! Skeeddoo ! " an ' run away. 
 
 She like so mooch for keessa me 
 
 She gona geeve me twanty-t'ree! 
 
 I s'pose dat w'at she say — "skeeddoo" — 
 
 Ees alia same "I lova you." 
 
 Ha! w'at you theenk? Now, mebbe so 
 
 You weell no calla me so slow! 
 
 T. A. Daly.
 
 Material for Interpretation 79 
 
 MIA CARLOTTA 
 
 Giuseppe, da barber, ees greata for "mash," 
 
 He gotta da bigga, da blacka mustache. 
 
 Good clo'es an' good styla an' playnta good cash. 
 
 Wenevra Giuseppe ees walk on da street. 
 Da peopla dey talka, "How nobby! how neat! 
 How softa da handa, how smalla da feet." 
 
 He raisa hees hat an' he shaka hees curls, 
 An' smila weeth teetha so shiny like pearls; 
 O ! many da heart of da seelly young girls 
 
 He gotta. 
 Yes, playnta he gotta — 
 
 But notta 
 
 Carlotta ! 
 
 Giuseppe, da barber, he maka da eye, 
 
 An' lika da steam engine puffa an' sigh, 
 
 For catcha Carlotta w'en she ees go by. 
 
 Carlotta she walka weeth nose in da air. 
 
 An' look through Giuseppe weeth far-away stare, 
 
 As eef she no see dere ees som'body dere. 
 
 Giuseppe, da barber, he gotta da cash. 
 He gotta da clo'es an' da bigga mustache. 
 He gotta da seelly young girls for da "mash," 
 But notta — 
 You bat my life, notta — 
 Carlotta. 
 I gotta! 
 
 T. A. Dahj.
 
 80 Dialtcts for Oral Interpretation 
 
 DA VERRA LEETLA BABY 
 
 Irish Padre Tommeeckbride 
 Laughed an' laughed onteel he cried. 
 Always he ees do dat way 
 At mos' evra theeng I saj'. 
 Ees no matter w'at I spoke, 
 He would tak' eet for a joke; 
 Eet's a shame to tease a man 
 Wen he do da best he can! 
 
 Now, for eenstance, yestaday 
 Dere's a chrees'nin' down our way; 
 Eet's baby call' "Carlotf " 
 Dat my cousin Rosa's got. 
 O! so small, jus' two weeks old — 
 Een wan handa you could hold ! 
 "Wal, I am da wan dat stand 
 For dees leetla child, my fraud — 
 How you call een deesa land ? 
 "Godda-father?" Yes, dat's me! 
 
 "Wal, w'en all ees done, you see, 
 An' da child ees bapatize', 
 Padre Tommeeckbride, he cries: 
 "Evrabody com' dees way. 
 "We must write eet down, ' ' he say. 
 
 "While he's writin' een da book, 
 From my pocket here I took 
 Twenta-fi'-cent piece, my fraud. 
 An' I put eet een heese hand. 
 "Thanks!" he say, an smiles at me. 
 Den Bianca Baldi, she —
 
 Material for Interpretation 81 
 
 While da padre looks at eet — 
 Wheespers: "Dat's a leetle beet!" 
 "Sure," I tal her, "dat'sa true, 
 But da baby's leetla, too." 
 
 Irish Padre Tommeeckbride 
 Laughed an' laughed onteell he cried. 
 Always he ees do dat way 
 At mos' evratheeng I say; 
 Eet's a shame to tease a man 
 Wen he do da best he can! 
 
 T. A. Daly. 
 
 DA POSTA-CARD FROM NAPOLI 
 
 So, you gon' sail for Italy? 
 Ah, fine ! — W 'at can you do for me ? 
 Oh, notheeng, please; I don'ta care — 
 I weesh you joy while you are dere, 
 An' I'll be glad for see you w'en 
 Da sheep ees breeng you home agen — 
 Eh? No! Oh, please don't sand to me 
 No peecture-card from Napoli! 
 
 Oh, yes, wan time da letter-man 
 Breeng soocha card to deesa stan'; 
 Eet was from gentleman like you 
 Dat wanted to be kinda, too, 
 Eet showed da town, da bay — but, oh, 
 I deed not need; so wal I know! 
 Ah, no, please don'ta sand to me 
 No peecture-card from Napoli.
 
 82 Dialects for Oral Intcrpri'tation 
 
 Oh, wal, Sigiior, you are so kind, 
 
 So good to rae, I would no mind 
 
 Eef you would send me wan from Rome. 
 
 Eh ? Rome ? No, dat ees not my home. 
 
 Deed I not joose esplain to you 
 
 I weell no care w'at else you do 
 
 So long you don'ta sand to me 
 
 No peeeture-card from Napoli? 
 
 T. A. Daly. 
 
 AN ITALIAN'S VIEWS ON THE LABOR QUESTION 
 
 One man looka at da labor quest' one way, 'noder man 
 looka 'noder way. I looka deesa way : 
 
 Longa time ago I gitta born in Italia. Pret' queck I 
 gitta big 'nough to know mya dad. I find him one worka 
 man. Him worka hard in da hotta sun — sweat like da 
 wetta rag to maka da 'nough mon' to gitta da grub. Mya 
 moth' worka too — work lika da dog. Dey make alia da 
 kids work — mea too. Dat maka me tired. I see da king, 
 da queen, and da richa peop' driva by in da swella style. 
 It maka me sick. I say, "Da world alia wrong. Da rich 
 have too mucha mon', too mueha softa snap. Da poor have 
 too mucha work, too mucha dirt, too mucha tougha luck." 
 
 Dat maka me one dago anarchista. I hear 'bout America, 
 da freea covmtra, where da worka man eata da minca pie 
 an' da roasa beef. 
 
 I taka da skip — take da ship — sail ova da wat' — reacha 
 Newa York. 
 
 Va ! It reminds me of Naples — beautifula bay, blue sky, 
 da plenty lazaroni and mucha dirta streets. 
 
 I looka 'r-round for da easy job. It noa go. Da easy 
 jobs alia gone.
 
 Material for Interpretation 83 
 
 It mora work to gitta da work dan da work itself. I 
 gitta down on da richa peop' more anda more alia da time. 
 Geea Whiz! Dat freea countra maka me sick! 
 
 "Well, aft' while I strika da job — pounda da stone on da 
 railroad. It neer keela, but I eata da ver' lit' grub, weara 
 da olda clothes, and socka da mon' in mya sock eacha 
 day. I learna da one thing — da mon' maka da mare go. 
 
 I catcha da spirit of a da town: I maka what you calla 
 da progress. I find da man what maka da mon' nev' do 
 da harda work. I quit. I buya da buncha bana', putta da 
 banan' ina da bask ona my arm, sella him ona da street. 
 Hulla Gee! I maka da twenty-fi' cent a day clear. 
 
 Ver' soon I have da gr-rata lotta mon', I buya one 
 handa org'; maka da mus', playa Ta-ra-ra Boom all over 
 da country; maka mor' mon'; den I buy Jocka da monk'. 
 Da monk' is lika da business man — ver' smart. I maka 
 him my cashier. Him passa da contribution box like da 
 deacon in da church. Him maka da face, him dance. 
 
 Da biz grow. We sella da hand org' — buy one streeta 
 piano. I hira one 'sistant. Da 'sistant pusha da piano, I 
 grinda da crank, da monk' taka da mon'. 
 
 We gitta da ver' wella off. I gitta mar-r-red. Buya me 
 one home, sweeta home. 
 
 I investa ma mon' — buya da fruita stands on da side- 
 walk — hire da cheapa dago chumps to runna da stands. 
 
 Da labor quest' ver' simp' — ver' plain. When 1 poor 
 I say: — "Shoota da monopola! Keela da richa man!" 
 Alia da same when you in Roma do lika da Roma peop'. 
 
 Now I one r-richa man. I weara da fine clothes — picks 
 my teeth with da golda pick — weara da diamond stud — 
 driva ma team — and snappa ma fingers. 
 
 It maka alia da dif in da world which side da fence 
 you stana on. Joe Kerr.
 
 Si Dialfcts for Oral Interpretation 
 
 ^'DESCENDED FROM CHRISTOPII' COLOMB' " 
 
 I AM-A one Ital-i-an 
 People eall-a me Da-go-man; 
 I lik-a live U-ni-ted State, 
 ]Mak-a heap o' mon-a any rate; 
 Smok-a vera cheap-a ciga-ret, 
 Eat-t macaroni an' spaget' 
 I am-a descended from 
 Christoph' Colomb'! 
 
 I bring-a dis-a leetal monk 
 Ovair in dis-a leetal trunk; 
 Though-a vera homely one, 
 He help-a me mak-a da mon' 
 Irish man he call-a me. 
 Da leetal monkey pedigree; 
 Call-a da monk ancestor from 
 Christoph' Colomb'! 
 
 I drag piano through de town ; 
 People throw me da nickel down; 
 I mak-a vera sweet-a bow 
 To servant gal, she mak-a row; 
 Call-a me da piano horse! 
 Say pian' so old, o' course 
 It was-a descended from 
 Christoph' Colomb'! 
 
 Beeg-a fool come evair day, 
 Ask-a where I learn to play; 
 Tell-a me I must-a be 
 Great-a lik-a Pad-a-ru-si-kee !
 
 Material for Interpretation 85 
 
 Small boy mak-a bad-a face ; 
 Call-a me dat-a stumpy race — 
 Mis-fit-a descended from 
 Christoph' Colomb'! 
 
 Cable car he bump-a me, 
 Police-a-man he thump-a me, 
 Truck-a-man upset-a me, 
 Sprinkle-a-man he wet-a me, 
 Fire-a-engine come-a dash, 
 Break da organ all-a smash ! 
 Kill da monk descended from 
 Christoph' Colomb'! 
 
 Fred Emerson Brooks.
 
 SECTION VIII 
 NEGRO
 
 SECTION VIII 
 
 NEGRO 
 
 (See also ** Modern Literature for Oral Interpretation," 
 Johnson, page 152, prose.) 
 
 IN THE MORNING 
 
 'Lias ! 'Lias ! Bless de Lawd ! 
 Don' you know de day's erbroad? 
 Ef you don' git up, you scamp, 
 Dey'll be trouble in dis camp. 
 T'ink I gwine to let you sleep 
 "Wile I meks yo' boa'd an' keep? 
 Dat's a putty howdy-do — 
 Don' you hyeah me, 'Lias — you? 
 
 Bet ef I come crost dis flo' 
 You won' fin' no time to sno'. 
 Daylight all a-shinin' in 
 Wile you sleep — w'y hit's a sin! 
 Ain't de can'le-light enough 
 To bu 'n out widout a snuff, 
 But you go de mo 'nin ' thoo 
 Bu'nin' up de daylight too? 
 
 'Lias, don' you hyeah me call? 
 No use tu'nin' to'ds de wall; 
 I kin hyeah dat mattus squeak; 
 Don' you hyeah me w'en I speak? 
 89
 
 90 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 Dis hyeah clock done struck off six — 
 Ca'line, bring: mo clem ah sticks! 
 Oh, you down, suh ; huh ! you down — 
 Look hyeah, don' you daih to frown. 
 
 ^la'ch yo'se'f an' wash yo face, 
 Don' you splattah all de place; 
 I got somep'n else to do, 
 'Sides jes' cleanin' aftah you. 
 Tek dat comb an' fix yo' haid — 
 Looks jes lak a feddah bald. 
 Look hyeah, boy, I let you see 
 You sha'n't roll yo' eyes at me. 
 
 Come hyeah ; bring me dat ah strap ! 
 Boy, I '11 whup you 'twell you drap ; 
 Tou done felt yo'se'f too strong, 
 An' you sholy got me wrong 
 Set down at dat table thaih ; 
 Jes' you whimpay ef you daih! 
 Evah mo'nin' on dis place, 
 Seem lak I mus' lose my grace. 
 
 Fol' yo' ban's an' bow yo' haid — 
 "Wait ontweel de blessin' 's said; 
 "Lawd, have mussy on ouah souls — " 
 (Don' you daih to tech dem rolls — ) 
 "Bless de food we gwine to eat — " 
 (You set still — I see yo' feet; 
 You jus' try dat trick agin!) 
 "Gin us peace an' joy. Amen!" 
 
 Paul Laurence Dunbar.
 
 Material for Interpretation 91 
 
 DE CIRCUS TURKEY 
 
 He's de worst I evah see, 
 
 Dat ole turkey up 'n de tree ; 
 I bin pesta'n him 'n' punehin' him sainee mohnin'. 
 
 I nev', sainee I was bo'n, 
 
 See de way he do stick on, 
 En he 'pears to look down at me 's if he seornin'. 
 
 He doesn't seem to 'pear 
 
 Ter hab a bit ob fear, 
 Kase I'se wasted all mah stren^h 'n' bref upon 'im. 
 
 It may be he's in fun, 
 
 But I'll scab 'im wid dis gun, 
 I'se boun' ter git 'im down some way, dog on 'im. 
 
 I'se fro'd mos' all de sticks 
 
 In de yard, 'n' all de bricks; 
 Ef yo' was me, whut under d' sun 'ud yo' do? 
 
 He doesn't seem ter change, 
 
 'N' 'pears ter act so strange, 
 I d'clar he mus' be pestah'd wid a hoodoo. 
 
 I tale yo' hit's er fac', 
 
 I nearly broke mah back 
 Er histin' shoes 'n' brickbats up dar to 'im. 
 
 'Pon dis Tanksgibbin' day, 
 
 I hate ter shoot, but say — 
 I b'leeve a gun's de only thing '11 do 'im! 
 
 I 'low I'll make 'im think 
 He kain't gib me de wink 
 An' sait upon dat limb en be secuah.
 
 92 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 BitT! Bang! I'll make 'im sing; 
 Mah goodness, watch 'im swing! 
 Wy, he's a reg'lah circus turkey, suah. 
 
 Hi see de hull tiling now — 
 
 Das Rasmus boy, I 'low, 
 Has done gone tied 'is feet up dar wid strings. 
 
 No wonday dat he tried 
 
 Ter come off; he was tied, 
 'N' all what he could do was flap 'is wings. 
 
 Come hyar, yo' Rasmus, quick, sah! 
 
 I'se min' ter use dis stick, sah! 
 Come hyar, from ovar dar, from whar yo' stood. 
 
 I 'low I ought to lay yo' 
 
 Down on dat groun' en flay yo'; 
 I'se tempted mos' ter use a stick o' wood. 
 
 Yo' kain't go to de meetin' 
 
 An' w'en it comes ter eatin', 
 Yo' mudder sals yo' kain't come to de table. 
 
 I bet you'll sing er tune, 
 
 Kase all dis aftahnoon 
 We's 'cided dat we'll lock yo' in de stable. 
 
 Yo' kain't hab none de white meat, 
 
 An' yo' kain't hab none de brown meat, 
 An' yo' jes' hearn whut yer po' ole mudder sade; 
 
 Yo' kain't hab none de stuffin', 
 
 Er de cranber' sauce er nuffin', 
 An' 'cisely at six o'clock yo' go ter baid. 
 
 Ben King.
 
 Material for Interpretation 93 
 
 WARM BABIES * 
 
 Shadrach, Mesliach, Abednego, 
 
 "Walked in the furnace to an' fro, 
 
 Hay foot, straw foot, fro an' to. 
 
 An' the flame an' the smoke flared up the flue. 
 
 Nebuchadnezzar he listen some, 
 
 An' he hear 'em talk, an' he say "How come?" 
 
 An' he hear 'em walk, an' he say "How so? 
 
 Dem babes was hawg tied an hour ago !" 
 
 Then Shadrach call, in an uppity way, 
 **A little more heat or we ain't gwine stay!" 
 An' Meshach bawl, so dat furnace shake: 
 "Lan'lawd, heat! fo' de good Lawd's sake!" 
 Abednego yell, wid a loud ' * Kerchoo ! ' ' 
 "Is you out to freeze us, y' great big Jew!" 
 Nebuchadnezzar, he rare an' ramp, 
 An' call to his janitor, "You big black scamp I 
 Shake them clinkers an' spend dat coal! 
 I'll bake dem birds, ef I goes in de hole!" 
 
 He puts on de draf an' he shuts de door 
 So de furnace glow an' de chimbly roar, 
 or Nebuchadnezzar, he smole a smile. 
 "Guess dat '11 hold 'em," says he, "one while.'* 
 Then Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego 
 Walk on de hot coals to an' fro. 
 Gulp dem hot cinders like chicken meat 
 An' holler out fo' a mite mo' heat. 
 
 • From "Splinters," published by George H. Doran Company, and T9- 
 printed by permission of the author.
 
 9i Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 or Nebuchadnezzar gives up de fight; 
 He open dat door an' he bow perlite. 
 lie shade his eyes from the ghire infernal 
 An' say to Abednego, "Step out, Colonel." 
 An ' he say, ' * Massa Shadrach, I hopes you all 
 Won' be huffy at me at all." 
 
 Then Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego, 
 Hay foot, straw foot, three in a row, 
 Stepped right smart from dat oven door, 
 Jes' as good as they wuz before, 
 An' far as Nebuchadnezzar cud find, 
 Jes' as good as they wuz behind. 
 
 — Keith Preston. 
 
 OL' JOSH WAY AN' DE SUN 
 
 Ol' Joshway stood in front er his tent, 
 
 An' sicc'd his soldiers on, 
 But when he turned fer ter look aroun', 
 
 De day wuz nearly gone. 
 He rubbed his beard, he scratched his head, 
 
 An' kicked his heel in de groun'; 
 Kaze he wanter finish de battle-job 
 
 Befo' de Sun went down.
 
 Material for Interpretation 95 
 
 He look ter de East an ' he look ter de West, 
 
 An' he wave his han' on high, 
 **King Sun," sezee, "I want you ter see 
 
 Me smite um hip an' thigh! 
 Come down ter camp an' rest you'se'f 
 
 A little while wid me, 
 I '11 git you a fan an ' big wide cheer 
 
 An' set it whar you kin see." 
 
 Dey wuz lots mo ' talk, but de Sun come down 
 
 An' tuck a little ease, 
 An' when he got too awful hot. 
 
 He called up ol' Brer Breeze! 
 "My time is short," sez de Sun, sezee, 
 
 "An' you better do yo' do, 
 Kaze I'm feelin' like I wanter see 
 
 Dis mortual scuffle throo!" 
 
 Well, dey fit an' fit an' fowt an' fowt 
 
 Eight dar in de light er de Sun, 
 But Joshway f railed um out an' soon 
 
 He had um on de run. 
 King Sun, he say, "I'm over due 
 
 'Cross dar whar de night's still black; 
 De folks will wake 'fo' de chickens crow 
 
 An' put der big clocks back." 
 
 or Joshway thanked him mighty polite, 
 
 An' ax him fer ter come ag'in; 
 King Sun, he say, "I speck dat I 
 
 Will be whar I've allers been." 
 Den he mosied off, kaze he ain't got time 
 
 Fer ter set an ' talk an ' stay ; 
 He hatter go off whar de night still dark 
 
 An' start ter breakin' day.
 
 96 Dialects for Ural Interpretation 
 
 Well, time run on an' people 'spute 
 
 'Bout Joslnvay an' de Sun, 
 Some say dis an' some say dat 
 
 An' splain why Joshway won; 
 Sometimes when he wuz settin' 'roun' 
 
 Whar he couldn't he'p but hear 
 He'd say, "Go in de settin '-room an' see 
 
 How he scorched my big armcheer ! ' ' 
 
 — Joel Chandler Harris. 
 I 
 
 AUNT AMITY'S SILVER WEDDING 
 
 It was the great silver wedding at Judge Stanley's that put the 
 idea into Aunt Amity's head. She was one of the Stanleys' former 
 slaves. She lived with her husband, Frank the fiddler, on a place 
 some miles up the river. She had always been a woman of initiative 
 and of strong social following and when she proclaimed that she and 
 Frank were to have a silver wedding they immediately came into a 
 new prestige. Amity was young for her age, looked thirty-three, 
 and could not have been much over forty. She moved with the 
 alacrity of youth, and her laugh was as care-free as a child 's. She 
 was rather stout and was wont to say of herself, ' ' Nobody, to see 
 dat wide shadder, would take me for de light dancer I is. " When 
 she sought her friend, the mistress of Sugarsweet Plantation, to enlist 
 her interest and a little assistance, that lady allowed Amity to tell 
 her all about it, and succeeded in controlling her features for the 
 greater part of the recital.) 
 
 "Cose I knows silver things is expensive, an' so is fine 
 suppers expensive an' I ain' gwine give no scrub ban-quet. 
 Dey ain't nobody but can affo'd to fetch some little silver 
 piece, such, as, well, mostly dimes an' two-bitses an' maybe 
 fif ty-centses ; an' it mought be dat a few would drap us 
 a dollar. I done give out dat I ain't gwine stint de supper. 
 I'll have every kind o' cake dey is — an' fried chicken — an' 
 chicken-pie — an' chicken fricassee — an' chicken-salad — an' 
 chick — I mean to say, an' swimp gumbo an' beat biscuit, 
 an' — swimps is comin' in thick in the river now.
 
 Material for Interpretation 97 
 
 ''In e'ose ef you was studyin' about white weddin's, 
 Missy, dat's a white horse of another color. Eh, Lord! 
 How many th'ough an' th'ough silver soup-ladles an' 
 tea-sets you reckon I 'd git, ef I expected 'em ? No, honey ; 
 dis here's gwine be jes a done-over ole breakdown weddin', 
 wid a' overdone brokedown bride an' groom. But we 
 can't be no younger 'n we is, an' hit's now or never, 
 
 "An' so — is you got air ole bride's veil lift over f'om 
 past times — or wreath — or anything flimsy an' white, 
 please, ma'am — to set off dis ole secon'-han' bride? An' 
 maybe one o' Marse Honore's white waist-coats for Frank 
 — anything, so it's white, for bofe of us — so's we won't 
 shame de ban-quet. I don't crave to disgrace de feast wid 
 onproper weddin '-gyarmints. 
 
 "An' maybe somebody mought affo'd a silver weddin '- 
 ring for me, — I ain' nuver had no ring, — or no silver 
 thimble, nuther. I sho' does hope dey'll fetch in a few 
 showy plush -box deviltries, even ef de silver on 'em '11 melt 
 whilst you looks at it. 
 
 "I had a silver-plated soup-dipper, once-t, I got it for a 
 tea-prize. I nuver drinks no tea. I buys it jes for de prize 
 cowpons — an' trades it back in de sto'e for tobacco. 
 
 "But dat prize dipper sho' did look dazzlin' when it 
 come, reposin' in dat plush-tufted box. I cert 'in 'y waa 
 tickled! But one day I dipped out some lye-hominy wid 
 it, an' it must 'a' slid down in de pot an' b'iled all day. 
 I tell yer, Missy, hit went in white but it come out a good 
 mulatter-color. 
 
 "Frank say de silver all subsided into de hominy an' 
 we-all e't it up, so we's silver-coated inside ef we is copper- 
 plated on de outside. 
 
 "But I sho' does wusht I had it now, in all its plush 
 glory for de weddin'.
 
 98 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 "It 'd be a fine side-boa 'd piece — ef I had a side-boa 'd. 
 
 "You can't have but one silver weddin' in a lifetime, 
 an' I wants to have it racklass, whilst I 'm a-havin' ! Even 
 ef you stays heah long enouprh to have two, dey say de 
 silver turns to gold, an' Gord knows what a po' ole nigger 
 resurrected bride would do for gold presents — less'n luck 
 changes ! 
 
 "But maybe, seein' it's silver, somebody mought ri- 
 comember to buy me a thimble — or a breastpin. Ole 
 Hannah, de AVilliamson 's cook, she got a lovely brooch, a 
 silver fryin'-pan. It makes you hongry to look at it. Ef 
 somebody only thought enough o' me — an' then o' c'ose 
 der is Frank. But Frank ain 't got no title to none o ' dese 
 silver presents. Not Frank! 
 
 * ' Oh, yas 'm ; of eo 'se he 's my chu 'ch husban ' all right, 
 hut not dat husban'! Yer know what become of my firs' 
 husban', Solon, don' yer, missy? A triflin' yaller gal stole 
 'im f'om me. Dat's what become of 'im; an' I don't 
 begrudge 'im to her. But as to whar he is, Gord knows, 
 honey. Livin' or dead, he 's all one to me now. Last time 
 I heerd tell of 'im, he was waitin' on Frank's sister, down 
 in Freetown. He mought be my brother-in-law by now, 
 for all I know. 
 
 "So I means to say what I say. I ain't been married 
 to Frank Stillwater on'y jes about five yeahs. An' I been 
 studyin' about dat, too, and dat 's one o' de p'ints I come 
 to insult you about. Sence Frank is been married five 
 yeahs, I don't see why he can't draw for a wood weddin'. 
 Dey tell me five yeahs o' marri'ge is de wooden anniver- 
 sary, an' dat's de easiest weddin' dey could give on a 
 plantation, a wooden one is. 
 
 "Yas'm; an' jes plain woodi. What 's de matter wid a 
 load o' fire wood or fat pine for kindlin'? Frank would
 
 Material for Interpretation 99 
 
 be glad to git anything, f 'om a box o' matches to a hen- 
 coop ; an ' he gwine fiddle for 'em free, anyhow. 
 
 "But heah I'm g^vine on an' forgittin' all about the 
 bridal veil! Is you got any ole lace left-overs. Missy, dat 
 I mought wear for a veil ? I '11 do it up keerf ul an ' fetch 
 it back, yes 'm." 
 
 Ruth McEnery Shiart. 
 Arranged by Gertrude E. Johnson. 
 
 THEOLOGY IN THE QUARTERS 
 
 Now, I 's got a notion in my head dat when you come to die, 
 
 An' stan' de 'zamination in de Cote-house in de sky. 
 
 You '11 be 'stonished at de questions dat de angel 's gwine 
 
 to ax 
 "When he gits you on de witness-stan ' an' pins you to de 
 
 f ac 's ; 
 'Cause he '11 ax you mighty closely 'bout your doin's in de 
 
 night. 
 An' de water-million question 's gwine to bodder you a 
 
 sight ! 
 Den your eyes '11 open wider dan dey ebber done befo', 
 When he chats you 'bout a chicken scrape dat happened 
 
 long ago ! 
 
 De angels on de picket-line erlong de milky Way 
 
 Keeps a-watchin' what you 're dribin' at, an' hearin' what 
 
 you say; 
 No matter what you want to do, no matter whar you 's 
 
 gwine, 
 Dey 's mighty ap' to find it out an' pass it 'long de line ; 
 And of 'en at de meetin', when you make a fuss an' laugh, 
 Why, dey send de news a-kitin' by de golden telegraph;
 
 100 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 Den de ano:el in de orfis, what 's a-settin' by de gate, 
 Jes' reads de message wid a look an' claps it on de slate! 
 
 Den you better do your duty well an' keep your conscience 
 
 clear, 
 An' keep a-lookin' straight ahead an' watchin' whar you 
 
 steer ; 
 'Cause arter while de time '11 come to journey fum de Ian', 
 And dey '11 take you way up in de a'r an' put you on de 
 
 Stan ' ; 
 Den you '11 hab to listen to de clerk, an' answer mighty 
 
 straight, 
 Ef you ebber 'spec' to trabble froo de alaplaster gate! 
 
 John Alfred Macon. 
 
 DE NAMIN' OB DE TWINS 
 
 "What I gwine name mah Ceely's twins? 
 I dunno, honey, yit, 
 But I is jes er-waitin' fer de fines' I kin git. 
 De names is putty nigh run out, 
 So many niggahs heah, 
 I 'clar' dey 's t'ick as cotton-bolls in pickin'-time o' yeah. 
 
 But 't ain' no use to 'pose to me 
 Ole commonary names 
 La' 'Lizaie^/i. an' Josephhie, or Cassah, Torm, an' James, 
 'Ca'se dese heah twinses ob mah gal's 
 Is sech a diff'ent kine, 
 Dey 's 'titled to de grandes' names dat ary one kin fin',* 
 Fer sho dese little shiny brats 
 Is got de f us '-cut look.
 
 Material for Interpretation 101 
 
 So mammy wants fine city names lak' you gits out a book. 
 I ax Marse Rob, an' he done say 
 Some 'rageous stuff lak' dis: 
 He 'd call de bruddah Be'lze&u-&, de sistah Genesis; 
 
 Or Alphy an' Omegy — de 
 Beginnin' an' de en'. 
 But den, ob co'se no man kin tell what mo' de Lawd '11 
 sen'; 
 Fer de pappy ob dese orphuns — 
 You heah me' — I'll be boun', 
 While dey 's er-crawlin' on de flo', he '11 be er-lookin' 
 roun ' ; 
 
 'Ca'se I done seen dem Judas teahs 
 He drap at Ceely's grabe, 
 A-peepin' 'hin' his han'kercher at ol' Tim's yaller Gabe, 
 A-mekin' out to moan an' groan 
 Lak' he was gwine 'o bus'. 
 Lawd, honey, dem at howls de mos' gits ober it de fus'. 
 
 Annynias an' Saphiry, 
 Sis Tab done say to me. 
 But he 'p me, Lawd ! what do she 'spec ' dese ehillun gwine 
 to be? 
 'Sides, dem names 's got er cur 'us soun'. 
 You says I 's hard to please? 
 Well so 'ould any granny be, wid sech a pa'r as dese. 
 
 Ole Pahson Bob he 'low dat I 
 Will suttinly be sinnin' 
 Onless I gibs 'em names dat starts 'em right in de beginnin'. 
 "Iwilla" fer de gal, he say, 
 F'om de wo'd "I will a-rise," 

 
 102 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 An' dat 'ould show she's startin' up todes glory in de skies; 
 
 An' for (lis man ehil' Aberham, — 
 Do fardah ob 'em all, — 
 Er else Bolsha/.zah, who done writ dat writin' on de wall. 
 But Pahson Bob — axcuse me, Lawd ! — 
 lie bcttah sabe his bref 
 To preach de gospel, an' jes keep his 'visin' to hisse'f ; 
 
 Fer nary pusson, white nor black, 
 Ain' gib no p'ints to me 
 'Bout namin' dese heah Chris 'mus gif 's asleep on granny's 
 knee 
 Now heshaby — don ' squirm an ' twis ' ; 
 Be still, you varmints, do ! 
 You ain' gwine hab no niggah names to tote aroun' wid 
 you!), 
 
 'Cause on de questiom ob dese names 
 I sho is hed mah min' 
 Perzactly an' percidedly done med up all de time; 
 Fer mah po' Ceely Ann — yas, Lawd, 
 Jes nigh afo' she died, 
 She name' dis gal " Neu-ral-gia, " ^ her boy twin "Hom-i- 
 cide"!^ 
 
 Mary Fairfax Childs. 
 
 * These names were actually given to two children. 
 
 WHY THE GUINEAS STAY AWAKE 
 
 "One time 'way long back yander dem guineas wuz des 
 ez drowsy w'en night come ez any er de yuther folks. 
 Dey 'd go ter roos', dey would, en dey 'd drap off ter 
 sleep time der head totch de piller.
 
 Material for Interpretation 103 
 
 "In dem days dey could 'a' had pillers ef dey 'd a- wanted 
 um, en bolsters, too, fer dat matter, en likewise fedder- 
 beds, kaze dey would n 't 'a ' had ter go no fur ways fer de 
 fedders. 
 
 "But ne'er mind 'bout dat; no sooner did dey git up 
 on de roos' dan dey drap off ter sleep, en dey kep' on dat 
 away twel bimeby one time Brer Fox made up he min' 
 dat he better be kinder sociable en pay um a call atter dey 
 done gone ter bed. 
 
 "Dar wuz times w'en Brer Fox tuck a notion fer ter 
 walk 'bout in de daytime, but mos' allers inginer'lly he 
 done he pomernadin' 'twix' sundown en sun-up. I dunner 
 w'at time er night hit wuz w'en Brer Fox call on de 
 guineas, but I speck 't wuz long todes de shank er de 
 evenin ', ez you may say. 
 
 "Yit, soon er late, w'en he got ter whar de guineas live 
 at, he foun' um all soun' asleep. Now, some folks w'en 
 dey go anywhars fer ter make deyse'f sociable, en fin' 
 eve'ybody fas' asleep, would 'a' tu'n 'roun' en made der 
 way back home ; but Brer Fox ain't dat kind er man. Dem 
 guineas roos' so low en dey look so fine en fat dat it make 
 Brer Fox feel like dey wuz his fus' cousin. 
 
 "He sot down on his hunkers, Brer Fox did, en he look 
 at um en grin. Den he 'low ter hisse'f : 
 
 " 'I '1 des shake ban's wid one un um en den I '11 go.' 
 
 "Well, Brer Fox went up an shuck ban's wid one un 
 um, en he must 'a' squoze mighty hard, kaze de guinea 
 make a mighty flutterment ; en he mus ' 'a ' heldt on wid a 
 mighty tight grip, kaze w'en he tuck off his hat en bowed 
 good-by de guinea went 'long wid 'im. 
 
 "Well, suh, you never is year tell er sech a racket ez 
 dem guineas kicked up w 'en dey 'skiver dat Brer Fox done 
 make off wid one un um. Dey squall en dey squall twel
 
 104 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 dey rousted up de whole neighborhoods. De dogs got ter 
 barkin', de owls got ter hootin', de bosses got ter kickin', 
 de cows got ter lowin', en de chickens got ter crowin', 
 
 "En mo' dan dat, de guineas wuz dat skeered dat dey 
 tu'n right pale on de neck en on de gills, en ef you don't 
 b lieve me you kin go up dar in de gyarden en look at um 
 fer yo'se'f. 
 
 ' * En mo ' dan dat, dey got skeered so bad dat from dat 
 day ter dis dey don't sleep soun' at night. Dey may squat 
 'roun' in de shade en nod in de daytime, dough I ain't 
 kotch um at it, en dey may sort er nod atter dey go ter 
 roos' at night; but ef a betsey bug flies by um, er yit ef 
 a sparrer flutters in de bushes, dey er wide awake; dey 
 mos ' sholy is. ' ' 
 
 Joel Chandler Harris. 
 Arranged by Gertrude E. Johnson 
 
 THE DANCE 
 
 Git yo' pardners, fust kwattiUon! 
 Stomp yo' feet an' raise 'em high; 
 Tune is: "Oh! dat water-million! 
 Gwine to git to home bime-bye." 
 Slute yo' pardners! — scrape perlitely — 
 Don't be bumpin' gin de res' — 
 Balance all! — now' step out rightly; 
 Alluz dance yo' lebel bes'. 
 Fo'wa'di foah! — whoop up, niggers! 
 Back ag'in! — don't be so slow! — 
 Swing cornahs! — min' de figgers! 
 When I hollers, den yo' go. 
 Top ladies cross oher!
 
 Material for Interpretation 105 
 
 Hoi ' on, till I takes a dram — 
 
 Gemmen solo! — yes, I 's sober — 
 
 Cain't say how de fiddle am. 
 
 Hands around! — hoi' up yo' faces, 
 
 Don't be lookin' at yo' feet! 
 
 Swing yo' pardners to yo' places! 
 
 Dat 's de way — dat 's hard to beat. 
 
 Sides for'w'd! — when you 's ready — 
 
 Make a bow as low 's you kin ! 
 
 Swing acrost wid opp'site lady! 
 
 Now we'll let you swap ag'in: 
 
 Ladies change! — shet up dat talkin'; 
 
 Do yo' talkin' arter while! 
 
 Bight and lef! — don't want no walkin' — 
 
 Make yo ' steps, an ' show yo ' style ! 
 
 Irwin Russell. 
 
 **DEY AIN'T NO GHOSTS" 
 
 Once 'pon a time dey was a li'l' black boy whut he name 
 was Mose. An' whin he come erlong to be 'bout knee- 
 high to a mewel, he 'gin to git powerful 'fraid ob ghosts, 
 'ca'se dat am sure a mighty ghostly location whut he lib' 
 in, 'ca'se dey 's a grabeyard in de hollow, an' a buryin'- 
 ground on de hill, an' a cemuntary in betwixt an' between, 
 an' dey ain't nuffin' but trees nowhar excipt in de clearin' 
 by de shanty an' down de hollow whar de pumpkin-patch 
 am, Dat a powerful onpleasant locality for a li'l' black 
 boy whut he name was Mose. 
 
 'Ca'se dat li'l' black boy he so specially black he can't 
 be seen in de dark at all 'cept by de whites ob he eyes. 
 So whin he go' outen de house at night, he ain't dast shut 
 he eyes, 'ca'se den ain't nobody, can see him in de least.
 
 106 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 He jest as invidsible as nuffin'. An' who know' but whut 
 a great, big gliost bump right into hira 'ca'se it can't see 
 him? An' dat shore w'u'd scare dat li'l' black boy power- 
 ful' bad, 'ca'se yever'body knows whut a cold, damp 
 pussonality a ghost is. 
 
 So whin dat li'l' black Mose go' outen de shanty at night, 
 he keep' he eyes wide open, you may be shore. By day he 
 eyes 'bout de size ob butter-pats, an ' come sundown he eyes 
 'bout de size ob saucers; but whin he go' outen de shanty 
 at night, he eyes am de size ob de white chiny plate whut 
 set on de mantel ; an ' it powerful ' hard to keep eyes whut 
 am de size ob dat from a-winkin' an a-blinkin'. 
 
 So whin Hallowe'en come eriong, dat li'l' black Mose 
 he jes mek' up he mind he ain't gwine outen he shack at 
 all. He cogitate' he gwine stay right snug in de shack wid 
 he pa an' he ma. So dat all right. Li'l' black Mose he 
 Scrooge' back in de corner by de fireplace, an' he 'low' he 
 gwine stay dere till he gwine to bed. But byme-by Sally 
 Ann, whut live' up de road, draps in, an' Mistah Sally 
 Ann, whut is her husban', he draps in, an' Zack Badget an' 
 de school-teacher whut board' at Unc' Silas Diggs's house 
 drap in, an' a powerful lot ob folks drap in. An' li'l' 
 black Mose he seen dat gwdne be one s 'prise-party, an' he 
 right down cheerful 'bout dat. 
 
 So all dem folks shake dere hands an' 'low "Howdy," 
 an' some ob dem say: "Why, dere 's li'l' Mose! Howdy, 
 li'l' Mose?" An' he so please' he jes grin' an' grin', 
 'ca'se he ain't reckon whut gwine happen. So byme-by 
 Sally Ann, whut live up de road, she say', "Ain't no sort 
 o' Hallowe'en lest we got a jack-o'-lantern." An' de 
 school-teacher, whut board at Unc' Silas Diggs's house^ 
 she 'low', "Hallowe'en jes no Hallowe'en at all 'thout 
 "we got a jack-o'-lantern." An' li'l' black Mose he stop*
 
 Material for Interpretation 107 
 
 a-grinnin', an' he scrooge' so far back in de corner he 
 'mos' scrooge f rough de wall. But dat ain't no use, 'ca'se 
 he ma say', "Mose, go on down to de pumpkin-patch an' 
 fotch a pumpkin." 
 
 "I ain't want to go," say' li'l' black Mose. 
 
 "Go on erlong wid yo'," say he ma' right commandin'. 
 
 "I ain't want to go," say' Mose ag'in. 
 
 "Why ain't yo' want to go?" he ma ask'. 
 
 ** 'Ca'se I 's afraid ob de ghosts," say' li'l' black Mose, 
 an' dat de particular truth an' no mistake. 
 
 "Go 'long wid your ghosts!" say' li'l' black Mose's ma. 
 
 "What' yo' pick up dat nonsense?" say' he pa. "Dey 
 ain't no ghosts." 
 
 An dat whut all dat s 'prise-party 'low: dey ain't no 
 ghosts. An' dey 'low dey mus' hab a jack-o'-lantern or 
 de fun all sp'iled. So dat li'l' black boy whut he name is 
 Mose he done got to fotch a pumpkin from de pumpkin- 
 patch down de hollow. So he step' outen de shanty an' 
 he stan' on de door-step twell he get' he eyes pried open 
 as big as de bottom ob he ma's wash-tub, mostly, an' he 
 say', "Dey ain't no ghosts." An' he put' one foot on de 
 ground, an' dat was de fust step. 
 
 An' li'l' black Mose he tuck anudder step. 
 
 An' de owl mourn' out, " Whut-whooo-o-o-o ! " 
 
 An' li'l' black Mose he tuck anudder step. 
 
 An' li'l' black Mose he tuck one look ober he shoulder, 
 an' he shut he eyes so tight dey hurt round de aidges, an' 
 he pick' up he foots an' run. Yas, sah, he run' right peart 
 fast. An' he say': "Dey ain't no ghosts. Dey ain't no 
 ghosts." An' he run' erlong de paff whut lead' by de 
 buryin '-ground on de hill, 'ca'se dey ain't no fince eround 
 dat bury in '-ground at all. 
 
 So he scoot' past dat buryin '-ground whut on de hill,
 
 108 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 an' dat oemuntary uhiit betwixt an' between, an' dat 
 grabebard in de hollow, twell he come' to de pumpkin 
 patt'h, an' he roteh' down an' tek erhold ob de bestest 
 pumpkin whut in de patch. An' he riglit smart scared, 
 an he jes cogitate', "Dey ain't no ghosts," an' wish' he 
 goose-pimples don't rise up dat way. An' he jes 'low', 
 "Dey ain't no ghosts," an' so he rotch' down, an' he 
 roteh' down, twell he git' a good hold on dat pricklesome 
 stem of dat bestest pumpkin whut in de patch, an' he jes 
 yank' dat stem wid all he might. 
 
 "Let loosen my head!" say' a big voice all on a suddent. 
 
 Dat li'l' black boy whut he name is Mose he jump' 'most 
 outen he skin. He open' he eyes, an' he 'gin' to shake 
 like de aspen-tree, 'ca'se whut dat a-standin' right dar 
 behint him but a 'mendjous big ghost! Yas, sah, dat de 
 bigges', whites' ghost whut yever was. An' it ain't got 
 no head. Ain't got no head at all ! Li'l' black Mose he jes 
 drap ' on he knees an ' he beg ' an ' pray ' : 
 
 "Oh, 'scuse me! 'Sense me, Mistah Ghost!" he beg! 
 **Ah ain't mean no harm at all." 
 
 "What for you try to take my head?" ask' de ghost in 
 dat fearsome voice whut like de damp wind outen de cellar. 
 
 '* 'Scuse me! 'Scuse me!" beg' li'l' Mose. "Ah ain't 
 know dat was yo' head, an' I ain't know you was dar at 
 all. 'Scuse me!" 
 
 "Ah 'scuse you ef you do me dis favor," say' de ghost. 
 *'Ah got somefin' powerful important to say unto you, an' 
 Ah can't say hit 'ca'se Ah ain't got no head; an' whin Ah 
 ain't got no head, Ah ain't got no mouf, an' whin Ah ain't 
 got no mouf. Ah can't talk at all." 
 
 An' dat right logical fo' shore. Can't nobody talk 
 whin he ain't got no mouf an' can't nobody have no mouf 
 •whin he ain't got no head, an' whin li'l' black Mose he
 
 Material for Interpretation 109 
 
 look', lie see' dat ghost ain't got no head at all. 
 Nary head. 
 
 So de ghost say': 
 
 "Ah come on down yere fo' to git a pumpkin fo' a head, 
 an' Ah pick dat ixact pumpkin whut yo' gwine tek, an' 
 Ah don't like dat one bit. No, sah. Ah feel like Ah pick 
 yo' up an' carry yo' away, an' nobody see you no more for 
 yever. But Ah got somefin' powerful important to say 
 unto yo', an' if yo' pick up dat pumpkin an' sot it on de 
 place whar my head ought to be, Ah let you off dis time, 
 'ca'se Ah ain't been able to talk fo' so long Ah right 
 hongry to say somefin'." 
 
 So li'l' black Mose he heft up dat pumpkin, an' de ghost 
 he bend' down, an' li'l' black Mose he sot dat pumpkin on 
 dat ghostses neck. An' right off dat pumpkin head 'gin' 
 to wink an' blink like a jack-o'-lantern, an' right off dat 
 pumpkin head 'gin' to glimmer an' glow f rough de mouf 
 like a jack-o'-lantern, and right off dat ghost start' to 
 speak. Yas, sah, dass so. 
 
 "Whut yo' want to say unto me?" inquire' li'l' black 
 Mose. 
 
 "Ah want to tell yo'," say' de ghost, "dat yo' ain't need 
 yever be skeered of ghosts, 'ca'se dey ain't no ghosts." 
 
 An' whin he say dat, de ghost jes vanish' away like de 
 smoke in July. He ain't even linger round dat locality 
 like de smoke in Yoctober. He jes dissipate' outen de air, 
 an' he gone intirely. 
 
 So li'l' Mose he grab' up de nex' bestest pumpkin an' he 
 scoot'. An' he ain' see no ca'se for to remain in dat 
 locality no longer. He rotch' down, an' he perambulate' 
 right quick to he ma's shack, an' he lift' up de latch, an* 
 he open' de do', and he yenter' in. An' he say': 
 
 "Yere 's de pumpkin."
 
 110 Dialicts for Oral Interpretation 
 
 All' lie ma an' he pa' an' Sally Ann, wliut live up de 
 road, an' Mistali Sally Ann, whut her liusban', an' Zack 
 Badget, an' de sehool-teaeher wluit board at Unc' Silas 
 Diggs's house, an' all de powerful lot of folks whut come 
 to de doin's, dey all serooged back in de eornder ob de 
 shack, 'ea'se Zack Badget he been done tell a ghost-tale, 
 an' yiver-body powerful skeered. 'Ca'se li'l' black Mose 
 he come' a-fumblin' an' a-rattlin' at de do' jes whin dat 
 ghost-tale mos' skeery, an' yiver'body gwine imaginate dat 
 he a ghost a-fumblin' an' a-rattlin' at de do'. Yas, sah. 
 So li'r black Mose he look' roun' an' peer' roun', an' he 
 say': 
 
 "Whut you all skeered fo'?" 
 
 'Ca'se ef anybody skeered, he want' to be skeered, too. 
 Dat 's natural. But de school-teacher, whut live at Unc' 
 Silas Diggs's house, she say': 
 
 " Fo ' de Ian 's sake, we fought you was a ghost ! ' ' 
 
 So li'l black Mose he sort ob sniff an' he sort ob sneer, 
 an' he 'low': 
 
 * ' Huh ! dey ain 't no ghosts. ' ' 
 
 Den he ma she powerful took back dat li'l' black Mose 
 he gwine be so uppetish an' contrydict folks whut know 
 'rifmeticks an' algebricks an' gin'ral countin' widout 
 fixigers, like de school-teacher whut board at Unc' Silas 
 Diggs 's house knows, an ' she say ' : 
 
 ' ' Huh ! whut you know 'bout ghosts, anner ways, time 
 fo' a li'l' black boy whut he name is Mose to be gwine up 
 de ladder to de loft to bed." 
 
 "An' li'l' black Mose he 'low' he gwine wait a bit. He 
 'low' he gwine jes wait a li'l' bit. How 'low' he gw'ine be 
 no trouble at all ef he jes been let wait twell he ma she 
 gwine up de ladder to de loft to bed, too. So he ma she 
 say':
 
 Material for Interpretation 111 
 
 "Git erlong wid yo'! Whut yo' skeered ob wliin dey 
 ain 't no ghosts ? ' ' 
 
 An' li'r black Mose he scrooge', and he twist', an' he 
 pucker' up he mouf, an' he rub' he eyes, an' prisintly he 
 say ' right low : 
 
 "I ain't skeered ob ghosts whut am, 'ca'se dey ain' no 
 ghosts." 
 
 ' ' Den whut am yo ' skeered ob ? " ask he ma. 
 
 "Nuffin'," say' de liT black boy whut he name is Mose; 
 
 "but I jes feel kinder oneasy 'bout de ghosts whut ain't." 
 
 Ellis Parker Butler. 
 Arranged by Gertrude E. Johnson 
 
 NEBUCHADNEZZAR 
 
 You, Nebuchadnezzah, whoa, sah! 
 "Whar is you tryin' to go, sah? 
 I 'd hab you fur to know, sah, 
 
 / 's a-holdin' ob de lines. 
 You better stop dat prancin'; 
 You 's pow'ful fond ob danein', 
 But I'll bet my yeah's advancin' 
 
 Dat I '11 cure you ob yo' shines. 
 
 Look heah, mule! Better min' out; 
 Fus' t'ing you know you '11 fin' out 
 How quick I '11 wear dis line out 
 
 On your ugly stubbo'n back. 
 You needn't try to steal up 
 An' lif dat precious heel up; 
 You 's got to plow dis fiel' up, 
 
 You has, sah, fur a fac'.
 
 118 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 Dar, dat 's de way to do it ! 
 He '8 comin ' right down to it ; 
 Jes watch him plowin' troo it! 
 
 Dis nigger ain't no fool. 
 Some folks dey would 'a' beat him; 
 Now, dat Avould only heat him — 
 I know jes how to treat him: 
 
 You mus ' reason wid a mule. 
 
 He minds me like a nigger. 
 
 If he wuz only bigger 
 
 He 'd fotch a mighty figger, 
 
 He would, I tell you! Yes, sah! 
 See how he keeps a-clickin'! 
 He 's as gentle as a chickin, 
 An' nebber thinks o' kickin' — 
 
 Whoa dar! Nehuchadnezzahl 
 
 Is dis heah me, or not me? 
 Or is de debbil got me? 
 Wuz dat a cannon shot me? 
 
 Hab I laid heah more 'n a week? 
 Dat mule do kick amazin'. 
 De beast was sp'ilde in raisin' — 
 But now I s'pect he's grazin' 
 
 On de oder side de creek. 
 
 Irwin Bussell. 
 
 DE CUSHVILLE HOP 
 
 I 'sE gwine down to de Cushville hop. 
 
 An' dar ain' no nigger gwine ter make me stop; 
 
 Missus gwine ter deck me all up in white, 
 
 So watch de step dat I 'se gettin' in temight.
 
 Material for Interpretation 113 
 
 Um-hm, ma honey, 'tain' no use; 
 
 Um-hm, may honey, turn me loose, 
 
 Um-hm, ma honey, watch me shine 
 
 "When mah foot am a-shakin' in de ole eoonjine. 
 
 No black niggahs come foolin' roun' me, 
 
 I 'se jes' to look at, anyone can see; 
 
 I 'se jes a orniment, an' I mus' 'fess 
 
 No niggah put 'is ahm roun' mah snow-white dress. 
 
 Um-hm, niggah, keep away, understand, 
 
 Um-hm, niggah, look out fo' yo' hand; 
 
 I 'se jes ter gaze at I mus' 'fess. 
 
 So don 't put yo ' ahm roun ' mah snow-white dress. 
 
 Bring out de banjo, plunk- plank, plink, 
 
 Watch de motion of mah step an' mah swing; 
 
 Don't yo' pestah me or make me stop 
 
 "When I git in motion at de Cushville hop. 
 
 Um-hm, niggah, keep away, keep away ! 
 
 Um-hm, niggah, not terday ! 
 
 Keep away f 'om me kase I dun kaint stop ; 
 
 I 'se jes caught mah motion fer de Cushville hop. 
 
 Ben King. 
 
 DANCING IN THE FLAT CREEK QUARTERS 
 
 Listen when I call de figgers ! Watch de music es you go ! 
 Chassay forrard! (Now look at 'em! Some too fas' an 
 
 some too slow!) 
 Step out when I gibs de order ; keep up even wid de line ; 
 What 's got in dem lazy niggers? Stop dat stringin' out 
 
 behin'!
 
 114 Dialects fur Oral Interpretation 1 
 
 All go forrard to de centre! Balance roun' an den go hack! 
 Keep oil in de proper 'rection, right straight up an' down 
 
 de crack! 
 Moobe up sides an' min' de music; listen when you hear 
 
 me speak ! 
 (Jes' look at deni Pea Ridge Niggers, how dey 's buckin' 
 
 'gin de Creek!) 
 
 Dat 's de proper action, Sambo ! Den you done de biznis 
 
 right ! 
 Now show 'em how you knocked de splinters at de shuckin' 
 
 t ' udder night. 
 Try to do your lebbel bes', an' stomp it like you use to do; 
 Jes' come down on de "Flat Creek St;ep," an' show de 
 
 Ridge a thing or two! 
 
 i 
 
 Now look at dat limber Jonah, tryin' to tech de fancy fling! 
 (Who ebber seed a y alter nigger dat could cut de pidgin '- 
 
 wing?) 
 Try dat kick again dar, Moses ; tell you what, dat 's hard 
 
 to beat ! 
 (How kin sech a little nigger handle sech a pile o' feet!) 
 
 Swing your corners! Turn yoiir pardners! ('Pears de 
 
 motion's gettin slow,) 
 What 's de matter wid de music ? Put some rosgum on dat 
 
 bow ! 
 Moobe up, Tom — don' be so sleepy! Let 'em see what you "i" 
 
 kin do! 
 Light off in de "gra-vine-twis' " an' knock de "double 
 
 shuffle," too!
 
 Material for Interpretation 115 
 
 Gosh! Dat double-j 'inted Steben flings a hifalutin' hoof! 
 He kicks de dus' plum out de planks an' jars de shingles 
 
 on de roof! 
 Steady, now, an' check de motion! Let de fiddler stop de 
 
 ehune ; 
 I smell de possum froo de crack, an' supper 's gwine to 
 
 call you soon. 
 
 De white folks come it mighty handy, waltzin' 'roun' so 
 
 nice an' fine; 
 But when you come to reg'lar dancin', niggers leabes 'em 
 
 way behin'! 
 
 John A. Macon. 
 
 BRER RABBIT AND THE LITTLE GIRL 
 
 "One time, after Brer Rabbit done bin trompin' 'roun' 
 huntin' up some sallid fer ter make out his dinner wid, he 
 fine hisse'f in de neighborhoods er Mr. Man's house, en 
 he pass 'long twel he come ter de gyardin gate, en nigh 
 the gyardin gate he see Little Gal play in' 'roun' in de 
 san'. Wen Brer Rabbit look 'twix' de gyarden palins en 
 see de colluds, en de sparrer-grass, en de yuther gyardin 
 truck growin' dar, hit make he mouf water. Den he take 
 en walk up ter de Little Gal, Brer Rabbit did, en bow, en 
 scrape his foot, en talk mighty nice en slick. 
 
 " 'Howdy, Little Gal,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee; 'how you 
 come on?' sezee. 
 
 "Den de Little Gal, she 'spon' howdy, she did, en she 
 ax Brer Rabbit how he come on, en Brer Rabbit, he 'low he 
 mighty po'ly. En den he ax ef dis de Little Gal w'at 'er 
 pa live up dar in de big w'ite hoiise, w'ch de Little Gal,
 
 116 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 she up 'n say 'twer'. Brer Rabbit he say he mighty glad, 
 kase he des bin up dar fer ter see 'er pa, en he say dat 'er 
 pa, he sont 'im out dar fer ter tell de Little Gal dat she 
 mus' open de gyardin gate so Brer Rabbit kin go in en git 
 some truck. Den de Little Gal she jump 'roun', she did, en 
 she open de gate, en wid dat. Brer Rabbit he hop in, he did, 
 en got 'im a mess er greens, en hop out ag'in, en w'en he 
 gwine off he make his bow, he did, en tell de Little Gal dat 
 he much 'bleege, en den atter dat he put out fer home. 
 
 "Nex' day, Brer Rabbit he hide out, he did, twel he see 
 de Little Gal come out ter play, en den he put up de same 
 tale, en walk off wid an'er mess er truck, en hit keep on 
 dis away, twel bimeby Mr. Man, he 'gunter miss his greens, 
 en he keep on a-missin' un um, twell he gotter excusin' 
 eve 'body on de place er 'stroyin' un um, en w'en dat come 
 ter pas', de Little Gal, she up'n say: 
 
 " 'My goodness, pa!' sez she, 'you done tole Mr, Rabbit 
 fer ter come en make me let 'im in de gyardin atter some 
 greens, en ain't he done come en ax me, en ain't I done 
 gone en let 'im in ? ' sez she, 
 
 Mr. Man ain't hatter study long 'fo' he see how de Ian* 
 lay, en den he laff, en tell de Little Gal dat he done gone 
 en disremember all 'bout INIr. Rabbit, en den he up 'n say, 
 sezee : 
 
 *' 'Nex' time Brer Rabbit come, you tak'n tu'n 'im in, en 
 den you run des ez fas ' ez you kin en come en tell me, kase 
 I got some bizness wid dat young chap dat's 'bleeged ter 
 be 'tend ter,' sezee. 
 
 "Sho nuff, nex' mawnin' dar wuz de Little Gal playin' 
 'roun', en yer come Brer Rabbit atter his 'lowance er 
 greens. He wuz ready wid de same tale, en den de Little 
 Gal she tu'n him in, she did, en den she run up ter der 
 house en holler:
 
 Material for Interpretation 117 
 
 ** *0h, pa ! pa ! Oh ! pa. Yer Brer Rabbit in de gyardin 
 now! Yer he is, pa!' 
 
 ' ' Den Mr. Man he rush out en grab up a fishin ' line w 'at 
 ■wuz hangin' in de back po'ch, en make for de gyardin, en 
 w'en he git dar, dar yvuz Brer Rabbit tramplin' 'roun' on 
 de strawbe 'y-bed en mashin' down de termartusses. Wen 
 Brer Rabbit see Mr. Man, he squot behine a collud leaf, but 
 'twe'n't no use. Mr. Man done seed him, en 'fo' you ein 
 count 'leven, he done got ole Brer Rabbit tie hard en fas' 
 wid de fishin' line. Atter he done got 'im tie good, Mr. 
 Man step back, he did, en say, sezee: 
 
 " 'You done been fool me lots er time, but dis time 
 yo're mine. I 'm gwinter take you en gin you a larrupin',' 
 sezee, 'en den I 'm gwinter skin you en nail yo' hide on 
 de stable do',' sezee; 'en den to make sho dat you git de 
 right kinder larrupin', I '11 des step up ter de house,' sezee, 
 'en fetch de little red cowhide, en den I '11 take en gin 
 you brinjer,' sezee. 
 
 "Den Mr. Man call ter de Little Gal ter watch Brer 
 Rabbit w'iles he gone. 
 
 "Brer Rabbit ain't sayin' notliin', but Mr. Man ain't 
 mo'n out de gate 'fo' he 'gun ter sing; en in dem days 
 Brer Rabbit wuz a singer, mon, en w'en he chuned up fer 
 ter sing he make dem yuther creeturs hoi' der bref." 
 
 "Ef I ain't fer git dat song off'n my min', hit run sorter 
 dis yer way : 
 
 " 'De jay-bird hunt de sparrer-nes', 
 De bee-martin sail all 'roun'; 
 
 De squir'l holler from de top er de tree, 
 Mr. Mole he stay in de groun ' ; 
 
 He hide en he stay twel de dark drap down- 
 Mr. Mole he hide in de groun'.'
 
 118 D idler fs for Oral Tufcrpnlaiion 
 
 "Wen do Little Gal hear dat, she laugh, she did, en 
 she up 'n ax Brer Rabbit fer ter sing some mo', but Brer 
 Rabbit he sorter cough, he did, en 'low dat he got a mighty 
 bad ho'seness down inter his win 'pipe som'ers. De Little 
 Gal she swade en swade, en bimeby Brer Rabbit, he up 'n 
 'low dat he kin dance mo' samer dan w'at he kin sing. 
 Den de Little Gal she ax 'im won't he dance, en Brer 
 Rabbit he 'spon' how in de name er goodness kin a man 
 dance w'iles he all tie up dis way, en den de Little Gal 
 she say she kin ontie 'im, en Brer Rabbit he say he ain't 
 keerin' ef she do. Wid dat de Little Gal she retch down 
 en enloose de fish-line, en Brer Rabbit he sorter stretch 
 hisse'f en look 'roun'." 
 
 "Den, bless yo' soul, honey! Brer Rabbit gedder up 
 his footses und' 'im, en he dance outer dat gyardin, en he 
 dance home. He did dat! Sho'ly you don't speck dat a 
 ole-timer w'at done had 'spe'unce like Brer Rabbit gwine 
 ter stay dar en let dat ar Mr. Man sackyfice 'im? Shoo! 
 Brer Rabbit dance, but he dance home. You hear me ? " 
 
 Joel Chandler Harris. 
 
 OPPORTUNITY 
 
 Granny's gone a-visitin', 
 Seen huh git huh shawl 
 Wen I was a-hidin' down 
 Hime de gyahden wall. 
 Seen huh put her bonnet on, 
 Seen huh tie de strings, 
 An' I 'se gone to dreamin' now 
 'Bout dem cakes an' t'ings. 
 
 I
 
 Material for Interpretation 119 
 
 On de she'f behime de do — ' 
 Mussy, what a feas'! 
 Soon ez she gits out o' sight, 
 I kin eat in peace. 
 I bin watchin' fu' a week 
 Des fu' dis hyeah chance. 
 Mussy, w'en I gets in daih, 
 I '11 des sholy dance. 
 
 Lemon pie an' gingah-eake, 
 
 Let me set an' t'ink — 
 
 Vinegah an' sugah, too, 
 
 Dat '11 mek a drink ; 
 
 Ef dey 's one t'ing dat I loves 
 
 Mos' pu'ticlahly, 
 
 It is eatin' sweet t'ings an' 
 
 A-drinkin' Sangaree. 
 
 Lawdy, won' po' granny raih 
 
 W'en she see de she'f; 
 
 Wen I t'ink erbout huh face, 
 
 I 's 'mos' 'shamed myse'f. 
 
 Well, she gone, an' hyeah I is. 
 
 Back behime de do' — 
 
 Look hyeah ! gran ' 's done 'spected me, 
 
 Dain't no sweets no mo'. 
 
 Evah sweet is hid away, 
 Job des done up brown; 
 Pusson t'ink dat someun fought 
 Dey was t 'eves erroun ' ;
 
 120 Dialects for Oral Intcrpntaiion 
 
 Dat des breaks my heart in two, 
 Oh how bad I feel ! 
 Des to t 'ink my own gramma 
 B'lieved dat I 'u'd steal! 
 
 Paul Laurence Dunbar. 
 
 THE TALE OF THE 'POSSUM 
 
 From Christmas-Night in the Quarters 
 
 Go 'way, fiddle! folks is tired o' hearin' you a-squakin*. 
 Keep silence fur yo' betters! — don't you heah de banjo 
 
 talkin'? 
 About de 'possum's tail she 's gwine to lecter — ladies, 
 
 listen ! — 
 About de ha'r whut isn't da, an' why de ha'r is missin': 
 
 "Dar's gwine to be a' oberfiow," said Noah, looking sol- 
 emn — 
 
 Fur Noah tuk the "Herald," an' he read de ribber 
 Column — 
 
 An' so he sot his hands to wuk a-cl'arin' timber-patches. 
 
 And 'lowed he 's gwine to build a boat to beat the steamah 
 Natchez. 
 
 or Noah kep' a-nailin' an' a-chippin' an a-sawin'; 
 
 An' all de wicked neighbors kep' a-laughin' an a-pshawin'; 
 
 But Noah did n 't min ' 'em, knowin ' whut wuz gwine to 
 
 happen -. 
 An' forty days an' forty nip-hts de rain it kep' a-drappin'.
 
 Material for Interpretation 121 
 
 Now, Noah had done cotched a lot ob ebry sort o ' beas 'es — 
 Ob all de shows a-trabbelin', it beat 'em all to pieces! 
 He had a Morgan colt an' sebral head o' Jarsey cattle — 
 An ' druv 'em 'board de Ark as soon 's he heerd de thunder 
 rattle. 
 
 Den sech anoder fall ob rain ! — it come so awful hebby, 
 De ribber riz immejitly, an' busted troo de lebee ; 
 De people all wuz drowned out — 'cep' Noah an' de critters, 
 An' men he 'd hired to work de boat — an' one to mix de 
 bitters. 
 
 De Ark she kep' a-sailin' an' a-sailin' an' a-sailin'; 
 
 De lion got his dander up, an' like to bruk de palin'; 
 
 De sarpents hissed; de painters yelled; tell, whut wid all 
 
 de fussin', 
 You c'u'dn't hardly heah de mate a-bossin' 'roun' an' 
 
 cussin '. 
 
 Now, Ham, de only nigger whut wuz runnin ' on de packet. 
 Got lonesome in de barber-shop, an' c'u'dn't stan' de 
 
 racket ; 
 An' so, fur to amuse he-se'f, he steamed some wood an' 
 
 bent it, 
 An' soon he had a banjo made — de fust dat wuz invented. 
 
 He wet de ledder, stretched it on; made bridge an' screws 
 
 an^' aprin ; 
 An' fitted in a proper neck — 't wuz berry long an' 
 
 tap 'rin ' ; 
 He tuk some tin, an' twisted him a thimble fur to ring it; 
 An' den de mighty question riz: how wuz he gwine to 
 
 string it ?
 
 122 Dialects for Oral lutcrprctat'ion 
 
 De 'possum had as fiiio a tail as dis dat I 's a-singin'; 
 De ha'r 's so lon<r an' lliiek an' strong, — dos fit fur banjo- 
 
 stringin' ; 
 Dat nigger shaved 'em off as short as wash-day-dinner 
 
 graees ; 
 An' sorted ob 'em by de size, f'om little E's to basses. 
 
 He strung her, tuned her, struck a jig, — 't wuz "Nebber 
 
 min ' de wedder, ' ' — 
 She soun' like forty -lebben bands a-playin' all togedder; 
 Some went to pattin'; some to dancin': Noah called de 
 
 figgers ; 
 An' Ham he sot an' knocked de tune, de happiest ob 
 
 niggers ! 
 
 Now, sence dat time — it 's mighty strange — dere 's not de 
 
 slightes' showin' 
 Ob any ha'r at all upon de 'possum's tail a-growin'; 
 An' curi's, too, dat nigger's ways: his people nebber los' 
 
 'em — 
 Fur whar you finds de nigger— dar's de banjo an' de 
 
 'possum ! 
 
 Irwin Russell.
 
 SECTION IX 
 FRENCH AND FRENCH CANADIAN
 
 I
 
 I 
 
 SECTION IX 
 FRENCH AND FRENCH CANADIAN 
 
 "DIEUDONNE" (God-Given) 
 
 F I sole ma ole blind trotter for fifty dollar cash 
 Or win de beeges' prize on lotterie, 
 
 If some good frien' die an lef me fines' house on St. 
 
 Eustaehe, 
 You t'ink I feel more happy dan I be? 
 
 No, sir! An' I can tole you, if you never know before 
 
 "W 'y de kettle on de stove mak ' such a fuss, 
 
 Wy de robin stop hees singin' an' come peekin' t'roo de 
 
 door 
 For learn about de nice t'ing come to us — 
 
 An' w'en he see de baby lyin' dere upon de bed 
 
 Lak leetle Son of Mary on de ole tarn long ago — 
 
 Wit' de sunshine an' de shadder makin' ring around hees 
 
 head, 
 No wonder M'sieu Robin wissle low. 
 
 An' we can't help feelin' glad too, so we call heem Dieu- 
 
 donne ; 
 An' he never cry, dat baby, w'en he 's chrissen by de pries' 
 All de sam' I bet you dollar he '11 waken up some day, 
 '^n' be as bad as leetel boy Bateese. 
 
 William H. Drummond. 
 125
 
 126 Dialects for Oral I ntcrprctatian 
 
 LITTLE BATEESE 
 
 You bad leetle boy, not moche you care 
 
 How busy you 're kipin' your poor gran'pere 
 
 Tryin' to stop you ev'ry day 
 
 Chasin' de hen aroun' de haj' — 
 
 "W 'y don 't you geev dem a chance to lay ? 
 
 Leetle Bateese! 
 
 Off on de fiel' you f oiler de plough 
 Den w'en you're tire you scare de cow 
 Sickin' de dog till dey jomp de wall 
 So de milk ain't good for not'ing at all — 
 An' you 're only five an' a half dis fall, 
 
 Leetle Bateese! 
 
 Too sleepy for sayin' de prayer tonight? 
 Never min' I s'pose it '11 be all right 
 Say dem tomorrow — ah ! dere he go ! 
 Fas' asleep in a minute or so — 
 An' he'll stay lak dat till de rooster crow, 
 
 Leetle Bateese! 
 
 Den wake us up right away toute suite 
 Lookin' for somet'ing more to eat, 
 Makin' me t'ink of dem long leg crane 
 Soon as dey swaller, dey start again, 
 I wonder your stomach don't get no pain, 
 
 Leetle Bateese! 
 
 But see heem now lyin' dere in bed. 
 Look at de arm onderneat' hees head;
 
 Material for Interpretation 127 
 
 If he grow lak dat till he 's twenty year 
 I bet he '11 be stronger dan Louis Cyr 
 An' beat all de voyageurs leevin' here, 
 
 Leetle Bateese! 
 
 Jus' feel de muscle along hees back, 
 Won't geev' heem moche bodder for carry pack 
 On de long portage, any size canoe, 
 Dere 's not many t'ing dat boy won't do 
 For he 's got double-joint on hees body too, 
 
 Leetle Bateese! 
 
 But leete Bateese! please don't forget 
 We rader you 're stayin' de small boy yet, 
 So chase de chicken an' mak' dem scare 
 An' do w'at you lak wit' your ole gran'pere 
 For w'en you 're beeg feller he won't be dere — 
 
 Leetle Bateese! 
 William Henry Drummond. 
 
 FOOTBALL AT CHEBANSE ^ 
 
 Dis ball on foot, dey play las' we'k, 
 
 Vas mighty fonny game, 
 
 Dey might haf ' called it "gran' prize fight," 
 
 I t'ink dat's better name. 
 
 De match, it vos feex op between 
 
 De High School on Chebanse, 
 
 An' Parish School of ol' Ste. Anne's 
 
 On nodder side de fence. 
 
 *From "The Ballads of Bourbonnais, " by Wallace Bruce Ams- 
 bary. Copyright 1904. Used by special permission of the publishers, 
 the Bobbs-Merrill Company.
 
 128 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 Dey 's nodding else dat talk about, 
 For four, five we'k or more; 
 Dey mak' display of loafing cop 
 Down at LaFlaee's store. 
 De loafijig cop it is de prize 
 For vinners of de game. 
 An' on de side ees vacant place 
 For to engrave dere name. 
 
 Dey charge you fifteen cent admish, 
 
 But I vas got in free, 
 
 Dey use my pasture Ian' for game, 
 
 Von dollar dey pay me. 
 
 Dey's quite a crowd vas com' along, 
 
 From de hull country 'roun', 
 
 De boggay, horse an' vagon heetch 
 
 Mos' overe de hull town. 
 
 An' den I saw a sight, I t'ink, 
 
 I nevere before saw, 
 
 Dem ball on foot chaps all feex op, 
 
 Dey look so vild an' raw, 
 
 Vit long hair like de monkey muff; 
 
 I t'ink dere fit for kill, 
 
 Before dey got t'roo von meex-op — 
 
 I 'm sure, by gosh ! dey vill. 
 
 Dere's von garcon had muzzle on, 
 
 Lak' dey put on mad dog, 
 
 I say, "Captaine, vat for dat ees?" 
 
 He say, "He bit like hog; 
 
 Ven in de middle of de game, 
 
 He got ver' moch excite, 
 
 He need dose crowbars on in front 
 
 To keep avay dat bite."
 
 Material for Interpretation 129 
 
 Den dey got soon to beezenesse down, 
 
 De Rouge dey all von side, 
 
 De Bleu dey line on front of dem, 
 
 Vaiting for vord from guide, 
 
 He say "All h 'right!" an' den de Rouge 
 
 Garcon dat stan' ahead, 
 
 He ben down lak' he play leap-frog, 
 
 Overe de ball an' said: 
 
 "T'ree sixty-ate, two, five, fourteen!" 
 An' den back t'roo he's legs 
 He's geeve dat ball an awful push, 
 An' den lak' scrambled eggs, 
 Dem garcon gat togedder quick, — 
 It vas a mos' surprise, 
 You can 't tell vat dey vos look like 
 If you had t'ousan' eyes. 
 
 Dey push an' squeeze, an' dan dey mak', 
 
 Vat I call tug of var, 
 
 An' pretty soon dere's von garcon. 
 
 He don't know vere he are. 
 
 ' * He 's put to sleep, ' ' dey 's some von say. 
 
 He's tired, I suppose; 
 
 I t'ink it's fonny tam' for nap, 
 
 Ven you gat bloody nose. 
 
 De Rouge dey gain t'ree, four, five point, 
 
 Dey mak' une gran' "tooch op." 
 
 Dis put de coleur Bleu on fire, 
 
 Dey t'ink of loafing cop, 
 
 Dey start de game vonce more, again, 
 
 In almos' de same vay. 
 
 De bleachere shout, an' yell it loud. 
 
 To "push on an' mak' ha^ "
 
 ISO Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 I bate dat valk dat Teddy took, 
 
 Ven he run San Juan hill, 
 
 Yas nevcre half so hard to dim' 
 
 As dis here football mill. 
 
 O my ! my ! de blood dey spill, 
 
 Mos' two full bucketsful, 
 
 It looks more lak' beeg slaughter pen, 
 
 Vere Spaniard fight de bull. 
 
 For us now, soon, dough ve don' know, 
 
 Dere's incident in store, 
 
 But ve too intcres' in game 
 
 To t'ink of nodding more. 
 
 Dere's bull on Theabault's pasture. 
 
 He's vink de odder eye, '' 
 
 He's ears dey vas stan' dem op straight, '/^ 
 
 He's head he hoi' it high. ■ 
 
 De Rouge, he's mak' it von gran' rush, \ 
 
 Dat bull he's mak' von, too. \ 
 
 He's jump de fence, an' den commence, | 
 
 For meex op in dat stew. } 
 
 In jus' about two minute more, I 
 
 He haf de field alone; 
 He haf de hull place by heemself, 
 He fin' it's all his own. 
 
 Ve's scatter quick, lak' many flea, ; 
 
 Mak' prompt for de timbere. : 
 
 Ve all gat out of dere right soon, '< 
 
 Ve vas so awful scare. \ 
 
 It's den de game, it was call off i 
 
 Dat's mean, it vas bus' op, » 
 An' all decide de Durham bull 
 Vas vin dat loafing cop. 
 
 Wallace Bruce Amshary.
 
 Material for Interpretation 131 
 
 DE NICE LEETLE CANADIENNE 
 
 You can pass on de worl' w'erever you lak, 
 
 Tak' de steamboat for go Angleterrem, 
 
 Tak' ear on de State, an' den you come back, 
 
 An' go all de place, I don't care — 
 
 Ma frien' dat 's a fack, I know you will say, 
 
 Wen you come on dis contree again, 
 
 Dere 's no girl can touch, w'at we see ev'ry day, 
 
 De nice leetle Canadienne. 
 
 Don't matter how poor dat girl she may be, 
 Her dress is so neat an' so clean, 
 Mos' ev'rywan t'ink it was mak' on Paree, 
 An' she wear it, wall! jus' lak de Queen. 
 Den come for fin' out she is mak' it herse'f, 
 For she ain't got moche monee for spen'. 
 But all de sam' tarn, she was never get lef ', 
 Dat nice little Canadienne. 
 
 Wen "un vrai Canayen" is mak' it mariee. 
 
 You t'ink he go leev on beeg flat. 
 
 An' bodder herse'f all de tam, night an' day, 
 
 Wit' housemaid, an' cook, an' all dat? 
 
 Not moche, ma dear frien', he tak' de maison, 
 
 Cos' only nine dollar or ten. 
 
 Were he live lak blood rooster, an' save de I'argent, 
 
 Wit' hees nice leetle Canadienne. 
 
 I marry ma femme w'en I 'm jus' twenty year, 
 An' now we got fine familee, 
 Dat skip roun' de place lak leetle small deer, 
 No smarter crowd you never see —
 
 1S2 Dialtcts for Oral Inicrprt tation 
 
 An' I t'ink as 1 watdi tlcni all I'ha.sin' about, 
 Four boy and six girl, she mak' ten, 
 Dat 's help mebbe kip it, de stock from run out, 
 Of de nice leetle Canadionne. 
 
 she 's quick an' she 's smart, an' got plaintee heart, 
 
 If you know correc' way go about, 
 
 An ' if you don 't know, she soon tole you so, 
 
 Den tak' de firs' chance an' get out; 
 
 But if she love you, I spik it for true, 
 
 She will mak' it more beautiful den, 
 
 An' sun on de sky can't shine lak de eye 
 
 Of dat nice leetle Canadienne. 
 
 William H. Drummond. 
 
 CHARMETTE 
 
 Away off back on de mountain-side, 
 
 Not easy t'ing fin' de spot, 
 
 "Were de lake below is long an' wide, 
 
 A nice leetle place I got, 
 
 Mebbee ten foot deep by twenty-two, 
 
 An' if you see it, I bet 
 
 You '11 not be surprise w'en I tole to you 
 
 I chrissen dat place Charmette. 
 
 Dat 's purty beeg word, Charmette, for go 
 
 On poor leetle house so small, 
 
 AVit' only wan ehimley, a winder or so, 
 
 An' no galerie at all — 
 
 But I want beeg word, so de worl' will know 
 
 "Wat dat place it was mean to me, 
 
 An' dere on de book of Jean Jacques Rousseau, 
 
 Charmette is de nam' I see.
 
 Material for Interpretation 133 
 
 ma dear Charmette ! an ' de stove is dere, 
 (Good stove) an' de wood-pile too. 
 
 An' stretch out your finger mos' anyw'ere, 
 
 Dere 's plaintee for comfort you — 
 
 You 're hongry ? wall ! you got pork an ' bean 
 
 Mak' you feel lak Edouard de King — 
 
 You 're torsty? Jus' look dere beliin' de screen, 
 
 An' mebbe you fin' somet'ing — 
 
 Ha ! Ha ! you got it. Ma dear Charmette. 
 
 Dere 's many fine place, dat 's true, 
 
 If you travel aroun ' de worl ', but yet 
 
 Were is de place lak you? 
 
 Open de door, don't kip it close — 
 
 Wat 's air of de mornin' for? 
 
 Would you fassen de door on de win' dat blows 
 
 Over God's own boulevard? 
 
 You see dat lake ? Wall ! I alway hate 
 
 To brag — but she's full of trout, 
 
 So full dej^ can't jump togeder, but wait 
 
 An' tak' their chance, turn about — 
 
 An' if you be campin' up dere above, 
 
 De mountain would be so high, 
 
 Very offen de camp you'd have to move, 
 
 Or how can de moon pass by? 
 
 It's wonderful place for sure, Charmette, 
 An' ev'ry wan say to me — 
 
 1 got all de pleasure de man can get 
 'Cept de wife an' de familee — 
 
 But somebody else can marry ma wife, 
 Have de familee too also, 
 Wat more do I want, so long ma life 
 Was spare to me here below?
 
 184 D'uilfcts for Oral Intcrpntation 
 
 For we can't be liappier dan we been 
 
 Over twenty year, no siree! 
 
 An' if ever tie stranger come between 
 
 De leetle Cliarmetto an' me, 
 
 Don all I can say is, kip ont de way, 
 
 For dynamite sure I'll get, 
 
 An' affer dat you can hunt all day 
 
 For me an' ma dear Charmette. 
 
 William II. Drummond. 
 
 RESPONSE TO A TOAST 
 
 MiLORS and Gentlemans — You excellent chairman, M. le 
 Baron de ]\Iount-Stuart, he have say to me, 'Make de 
 toast.' Den I say to him dat I have no toast to make; but 
 he nudge my elbow ver soft, and say dat dere is von toast 
 dat nobody but von Frenchman can make proper; and, 
 derefore, Avid your kind permission, I vill make de toast. 
 'De brevete is de sole of de feet,' as you great philosophere, 
 Dr. Johnson, do say, in dat amusing little vork of his, de 
 Pronouncing Dictionnaire ; and, derefore, I vill not say ver 
 moch to de point. Ven I vas a boy, about so moch tall, and 
 used for to promenade de streets of Marseilles et of Rouen, 
 vid no feet to put onto my shoe, I nevare to have expose 
 dat dis day vould to have arrive. I vas to begin de vorld 
 as von garcou — or, vat you call in dis countrie, von vaitaire 
 in a cafe — vere I vork ver hard, vid no habillemens at all 
 to put onto myself, and ver little food to eat, excep' von 
 old blue blouse vat vas give to me by de proprietaire, just 
 for to keep myself fit to be showed at ; but, tank goodness, 
 tings dey have change ver moch for me since dat time, and 
 J have rose myself, seulement par mon Industrie et per-
 
 Material for Interpretation 135 
 
 severance. Ah ! mes amis ! ven I hear to myself de flowing 
 speech, de oration magnifique of you Lor' Maire, Monsieur 
 Gobbledown, I feel dat it is von great privilege for von 
 etrange to sit at de same table, and to eat de same food, 
 as dat grand, dat majestique man, who are de terreur of de 
 voleurs and de brigands of de metropolis ; and who is also, 
 I for to suppose, a halterman and de chef of you common 
 scoundrel. Milors and gentlemans, I feel dat I can perspire 
 to no greatare honneur dan to be von common scoundrel- 
 man myself; but, helas! dat plaisir are not for me, as I 
 are not freeman of your great cite, not von liveryman 
 servant of von of you compagnies joint-stock. But I must 
 not forget de toast, Milors and Gentlemans ! De immortal 
 Shakispeare he have write, 'De ting of beauty are de joy 
 for nevermore.' It is de ladies who are de toast. Vat is 
 more entrancing dan de charmante smile, de soft voice, der 
 vinking eye of de beautiful lady! It is de ladies who do 
 sweeten de cares of life. It is de ladies who are de guiding 
 stars of our existence. It is de ladies who do cheer but not 
 inebriate, and derefore, vid all homage to de dear sex, de 
 toast dat I have to propose is, ' De Ladies ! God bless dem 
 all!'" 
 
 Litchfield Moseley. 
 (From "A Charity Dinner.") 
 
 THE FAMILY LARAjMIE 
 
 HssH ! look at ba-bee on de leetle blue chair, 
 
 Wat you t'ink he's tryin' to do? 
 
 Wit' pole on de han' lak de lumberman, 
 
 A-shoviu' along canoe. 
 
 Dere's purty strong current behin' de stove, 
 
 Were it's passin' de chimley-stone.
 
 186 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 But he'll come roun' yet, if he don't upset, 
 So long he was lef ' alone. 
 
 Dat's way ev'ry boy on de house begin 
 No sooner he's twelve mont' ole; 
 He'll play canoe up an' down de Soo 
 An' paddle an' push de pole, 
 Den haul de log all about de place. 
 Till dey're fillin' up mos' de room, 
 An' say it's all right, for de storm las' night 
 Was carry away de boom. 
 
 Mebbe you see heem, de young loon bird, 
 
 "Wit' half of de shell hangin' on, 
 
 Tak' hees firse slide to de water side. 
 
 An' off on de lake he's gone. 
 
 Out of de cradle dey're goin' sam' way 
 
 On reever an' lake an' sea; 
 
 For born to de trade, dat's how dey're made, 
 
 De familee Laramie. 
 
 An ' de reever she 's lyin ' so handy dere 
 
 On foot of de hill below, 
 
 Dancin' along an' singin' de song 
 
 As away to de sea she go. 
 
 No wonder I never can lak dat song. 
 
 For soon it is comin' w'en, 
 
 Dey'll lissen de call, leetle Pierre an' Paul, 
 
 An' w'ere will de moder be den? 
 
 She'll sit by de shore w'en de evenin's come, 
 An' spik to de reever too: 
 * * reever, you know how dey love you so, 
 Since ever dey're seein' you,
 
 Material for Interpretation 137 
 
 For sake of dat love bring de leetle boy home 
 Once more to de moder's knee." 
 An' mebbe de prayer I be makin' dere 
 Will help bring dem back to me. 
 
 Williomi H. Brummond. 
 
 DE CIRQUE AT OL' STE. ANNE ^ 
 
 I'm ride overe from Papineau, 
 Premier-classe cirque for see, 
 Dat's advertise for com' Ste. Anne 
 An' mak' som' fun vid me. 
 I'm tak' along my Julie gairl, 
 I'm gat her on de way, 
 Ve're off for have une jolie tam', 
 A full all holiday. 
 
 Ve see de animal so vil', 
 Gran' lion in de cage, 
 He's walk it op an' down aroun* 
 Lak' he vas in a rage. 
 Regardes monkey an' giraffe 
 Vit neck so long an' slim, 
 You's almos' need a telephone 
 To say "hello" at him. 
 
 Beeg crowd was all de cage aroun' 
 For see w'at dey could see, 
 Dey wan' to gat dere money's wort', 
 Mos' squeeze de life off me: 
 
 * From ' ' The Ballads of Bourbonnais, ' ' by Wallace Bruce Ams- 
 bary. Copyright 1904. Used by special permission of the publishers, 
 the Bobbs-Merrill Company.
 
 188 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 We see de zebra ; den I t 'ink 
 Wir man from Borneo, 
 An' w'en we gat t'roo dat moch dere 
 Into beeg tent we go. 
 
 I'm buy pop-corn, also peanut, 
 Donnay to my Julie ; 
 Ve's eat it all togedder op, 
 Oh, my, we have une spree! 
 Nex' t'ing ve sat in hippodrome. 
 In deux grand reserve seat — 
 I pay ten cent extray for dem; 
 For view dey can't be beat. 
 
 So moch for see dat's goin' on, 
 
 I'm gat all mix op yet; 
 
 It's all so good I can't mak' out 
 
 Jus' w'ere ma eyes for set. 
 
 Beeg man vas op on high trapeze, 
 
 An ' pretty lady — Oo ! 
 
 She's hang by teeth an' hair; by gar! 
 
 T 'row kisses at you, too ! 
 
 An' w'en my eyes light on dat gairl, 
 
 Julie vas gat jealous; 
 
 She mak' de lips go poutin', so 
 
 Vid rage she nearly bus'; 
 
 An' den I tak' her sof w'ite ban' 
 
 An' hold it gentle so, 
 
 An' try to feex it up all h 'right. 
 
 But fin' it quite hard go.
 
 Material for Interpretation 139 
 
 Julie vas feel moeh better 
 
 Ven dat lady go avay, 
 
 She laugh vid me at funny clown, 
 
 At all de t'ings he say. 
 
 Mos' excentrique come elephan*, 
 
 Stan' right out on his head, 
 
 An' den he lay upon de groun', 
 
 Preten' dat she is dead. 
 
 De acrobat he's tumble roun' 
 
 All overe de whole place ; 
 
 De ring man shout an' crack his whip 
 
 At horses in de race. 
 
 Den ve take in de concert grand, 
 
 An' lak' dat might' vel, too. 
 
 An' w'en ve see de peoples go, 
 
 Ve know dat show was t'roo. 
 
 An' when I'm takin' Julie home — <. 
 Dat night de moon was shine — 
 I'm mak' it to her mighty plain, 
 I'm ax for her be mine; 
 But Julie say she very 'fraid, 
 I'm lof Ma'm'selle Trapeese, 
 Because she grand an' t'row de kiss 
 (I'm no like Julie tease). 
 
 An' so I up an' tole her 
 
 Dat I lof jus' her onlee. 
 
 Her cheeks dey blush de colour rouge, 
 
 Her eyes flash lak' de sea, 
 
 Her lips was lak' de grand sunset, 
 
 I can no' long' keep 'vay — 
 
 I'm mak' de smack right on de spot. 
 
 Oh, vat a holiday!
 
 140 Dialects for Oral luterprt tation 
 
 I'm mak' de marry quite ver' soon, 
 An' now you understan' 
 Pourquoi I take my Julie gairl 
 Pour cirque at 01' Ste. Anne. 
 
 Wallace Bruce Amshary. 
 
 THE WRECK OF THE "JULIE PL ANTE" 
 
 (A Legend of Lac St. Pierre) 
 
 On wan dark night on Lac St. Pierre, 
 
 De win' she blow, blow, blow, 
 
 An ' de crew of de wood scow ' ' Julie Plante ' ' 
 
 Got scar't an' run below — 
 
 For de win' she blow lak hurricane 
 
 Bimeby she blow some more. 
 
 An' de scow bus' up on Lac St. Pierre 
 
 Wan arpent from de shore. 
 
 De captinne walk on de fronte deck, 
 
 An' walk de hin' deck too — 
 
 He call de crew from up de hole 
 
 He call de cook also. 
 
 De cook she's name was Rosie, 
 
 She come from Montreal, 
 
 Was ehambre maid on lumber barge, 
 
 On de Grande Lachine Canal. 
 
 De win' she blow from nor'-eas'-wes', — 
 De sout' win' she blow too, 
 W'en Rosie cry "Mon cher captinne, 
 Mon cher, w'at I shall do?"
 
 Material for Interpretation 141 
 
 Den de Captinne t'row de big ankerre, 
 But still the scow she dreef, 
 De crew he can't pass on de shore, 
 Becos' he los' hees skeef. 
 
 De night was dark lak' wan black cat, 
 
 De wave run high an' fas', 
 
 Wen de captinne tak' de Rosie girl 
 
 An' tie her to de mas'. 
 
 Den he also tak' de life preserve, 
 
 An' jomp off on de lak', 
 
 An' say, "Good-bye, ma Rosie dear, 
 
 I go drown for your sak'." 
 
 Nex' morning very early 
 
 'Bout ha 'f -pas' two — t'ree — four — 
 
 De captinne — scow — an' de poor Rosie 
 
 Was corpses on de shore, 
 
 For de win ' she blow lak ' hurricane 
 
 Bimeby she blow some more. 
 
 An' de scow bus' up on Lac St. Pierre, 
 
 Wan arpent from de shore. 
 
 MORAL 
 
 Now all good wood scow sailor man 
 
 Tak ' warning by dat storm 
 
 An' go an' marry some nice French girl 
 
 An' leev on wan beeg farm. 
 
 De win' can blow lak hurricane 
 
 An' s'pose she blow some more. 
 
 You can't get drown on Lac St. Pierre 
 
 So long you stay on shore. 
 
 William H. Drummond.
 
 4
 
 SECTION X 
 SCANDINAVIAN
 
 SECTION X 
 SCANDINAVIAN 
 
 SHERIDAN'S RIDE 
 
 Ef yu ban vise, and ay s'pose yu ban, 
 You know 'bout Yeneral Sheridan; 
 But maybe yu ant remember the day 
 Van he yump on horse, and den he say, 
 **Ay'm yust about tventy-sax miles avay." 
 
 Some rebel fallers ban start big row 
 In Vinchester. Ay ant know just how. 
 But ay tenk de yump on some Yankee guys, 
 And trying to give dem gude black eyes. 
 So Yeneral Sheridan hear dese guns, 
 And drank some coffee and eat some buns, 
 And tal dis har landlord, "Gudeby, Yack, 
 Ay skol paying my bill ven ay com back!" 
 Den he ride so fast that sune he say, 
 "Val, now ay ban saxteen miles avay!" 
 Dese cannons ban roaring gude and loud — 
 It van tough game for dis Yankee crowd ; 
 And Lieutenant Olson, he tal his pal, 
 "Ay tank van ban due to run lak hal!" 
 So dey start to run, or else retreat — 
 Dis ban noder name for gude cold feet ; 
 An' dey run so fast sum dey can go, 
 Lak Russians luring dese Yaps, yu kno-w. 
 145
 
 146 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 * ' Yee "whiz ! ' ' say Sheridan. * ' Yump, old boss I 
 
 Ay tenk my soldiers get double cross. 
 
 Ay s'pose youre hoofs getting purty sore, 
 
 But ve only got 'bout sax miles more ! ' ' 
 
 Val, Yeneral Sheridan meet his men, 
 
 And he say: "It's now yust half-past ten. 
 
 Ay hope ay skol never go to heaven 
 
 Ef dose Rebel Svedes ant licked by eleven. 
 
 Yust turn 'round now in yure track ! 
 
 Come on, yu fallers! Ve're going back!" 
 
 And yu bet yure life they vent back, tu, 
 
 And put gude crimp in dis Rebel crew. 
 
 But soldiers ban careless sons of guns, 
 
 And the yeneral never settled for buns. 
 
 William F. Kirk. 
 
 GEORGE WASHINGTON 
 
 Yeorge Vashington ban honest man. 
 Ven dis bar country first began, 
 Yeorge ban a yen'ral, and yu bet 
 Dese English fallers know it yet. 
 Ven he ban small, his fader say, 
 *'Ef yu skol breng in wood to-day, 
 And feeding cow and chickens, tu, 
 Ay skol yust blow myself on yu." 
 
 Val, sure enuff, ven Yeorge du chore, 
 His fader hike for hardvare store, 
 And buy gude hatchet, only it 
 Ban second-hand a little bit. 
 Dar ban on edge some little dents. 
 It ban marked down to saxty cents.
 
 Material for Interpretation 147 
 
 He pay sax cents to sharpen axe, 
 And so it cose him saxty-sax. 
 He tak it home to Yeorgie, tu, 
 And say, "Ay ant ban fuling you." 
 
 Next day Yeorge tak his hatchet out, 
 And start to rubber all about 
 For someteng he can chop, yu see. 
 And den he pipe nice cherry-tree. 
 "By Yudas! Dis ban soft!" say he. 
 Ef dis har axe ban any gude, 
 Dis tree skol sune ban kindling wood." 
 So Yeorge give cherry-tree gude whack. 
 And sveng dis axe lak lumberyack; 
 And yust ven tree ban falling down, 
 His fader coming back from town. 
 Yeorge see old yent ban standing dar, 
 Smoking gude fifteen-cent cigar ; 
 And so he say : ' ' Val, holy yee ! 
 Ay guess the yig ban op with me. 
 Dear fader, Ay chopped down dis tree!" 
 
 Dar ban gude moral har for youth: 
 Ven lie ban f ulish, tal the truth ! 
 
 William F. Kirk. 
 
 THE BAREFOOT BOY 
 
 Blessings on yu, little man! 
 Barefoot boy, ay tenk yu can 
 Getting all yu lak, by yee! 
 Yu ban gude enuff for me. 
 Yu ant got so many clo'es, 
 Dar ban freckles on yure nose.
 
 148 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 And a}' guess yu're purty tuff, 
 'Cause yu ask for chew of snuff. 
 But, by yinks, ay lak yure face, 
 Yu can passing any place. 
 
 Barefoot boy, ef ay could du 
 Yenuine po'try lak the kind 
 Maester Vittier wrote for yu, 
 Ay vould write; but never mind. 
 Ay can tal yu vat ay know, 
 Even ef dese vords ant flow 
 Half so slick sum poet 's song, 
 Anyhow, ay don't mean wrong. 
 Ven ay see yu, little kid, 
 Ay skol taking off my lid. 
 Oder little boys ay see 
 Ant look half so gude to me. 
 
 Some of dem ban rich men's boys, 
 "Who ban having planty toys, 
 Vearing nicest clo'es in town, 
 Lak dis little Buster Brown. 
 Don 't you care ! Ven dey grow up. 
 And ban shining at pink tea, 
 Drenking tea from china cup, 
 You skol give dem loud tee-hee. 
 You skol laugh at dis har mob 
 Ven dey come to yu for yob. 
 Barefoot boy, yu ant got cent; 
 But ay tal yu dis, some day 
 Yu got chance for president 
 Ef dese woters com yure vay. 
 Yust keep vistling all day long, 
 Yust keep senging little song.
 
 Material for Interpretation 149 
 
 And ef yu skol alvays love 
 Some one who ban op above, 
 "Who ban making day and night, 
 He skol fix yu out all right. 
 
 William F. Kirk. 
 
 THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH 
 
 Miles Standish ban having a courtship 
 Ven all of his fighting ban tru; 
 Maester Longfaller tal me about it, 
 And so ay skol tal it to yu. 
 He say to his roommate, Yohn Alden : 
 "Yu know dis Priseilla, ay s'pose. 
 Last week, ven ay try to get busy, 
 Priseilla yust turn op her nose." 
 
 Yohn Alden ban nervy young faller. 
 So Standish yust tal him : ' ' Old pal, 
 Pleese boost me to dis har Priseilla, 
 Yu know ay can't talk wery val. 
 Please tal her ay ban a gude soldier, 
 And say ay have money in bank. 
 Ay'd du dis myself, but, ay tal yu, 
 My manners in parlor ban rank." 
 
 So Yohn go and call on Priseilla, 
 And happen to finding her in ; 
 He sit close beside her on sofa, 
 And give her gude lots of his chin. 
 "Miles Standish," he say, "ban gude faller. 
 Hot stuff vith his pistol and knife ; 
 And so ay ban coming to tal yu 
 He'd lak yu, Priseilla, for vife."
 
 150 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 Priscilla, she listen to Alden, 
 
 And den give him cute little venk, 
 
 And say : ' ' Vy not speak for yureself, Yohn ? 
 
 ]\iiles Standish ban lobster, ay tenk." 
 
 So Standish get double crossed planty; 
 
 And dat's j'ust vat Ay vant, by yee, 
 
 Ef ever ay get any faller 
 
 To doing my sparking for me ! 
 
 WiUiam F. Kirk, 
 
 ABOU SWEN ANSON 
 
 Abou Svten Anson (he ban yolly dog) 
 Ban asleep von night so sound lak log, 
 Ven all at vonce he tenk it sure ban day. 
 * * Ay skol vake op now, ' ' Maester Anson say. 
 But, ven he vake, it ant ban day at all. 
 He see a gude big light right close to vail, 
 And dar ban anyel faller with stub pen. 
 "Gude morning, maester anyel man," say Swen. 
 "Ay s'pose," he tal the anyel, "yu ban har 
 To pay me visit. Skol yu have cigar ? ' ' 
 The anyel shake his head, and Abou Swen 
 Ask him : * ' Val, Maester, vy yu com bar den ? 
 Vat skol yu write in dis har book of gold ? ' ' 
 The anyel say, "All fallers, young and old, 
 Who go to church and prayer-meeting, tu ; 
 But ay ant got a place in har for yu." 
 "Ay s'pose," say Abou, "yu got noder book 
 For common lumberyacks vich never took 
 Flyer at church or dis har Sunday-school, 
 But yust try hard to keeping Golden Rule.
 
 Material for Interpretation 151 
 
 Ef yu got dis book, Maester, put me in!" 
 Den anyel look at Abou, and he grm. 
 ' ' Abou, ' ' he say, ' ' shak hands. Yu talk qvite free 
 But, yiminy Christmas, yu look gude to me ! " 
 
 William F. Kirk. 
 
 STEALING A RIDE 
 
 YuMPiNG over crossings, 
 Bumping over svitches. 
 Till ay tenk dis enyine 
 Going to fall in ditches; 
 Hiding vith some cattle, 
 Ay tenk 'bout saxty-eight; 
 Yiminy ! Dis ban yolly, — 
 Stealing ride on freight. 
 
 Ay ban yust tru treshing 
 Op in Nort Dakota ; 
 Now ay guess ay'm going 
 Back to old Mansota. 
 Now dis train ban stopping, 
 'Bout sax hours to vait; 
 Yiminy ! Dis ban yolly, — 
 Stealing ride on freight. 
 
 Ay skol stretch a little 
 Yust to tak a sleep 
 Den my head bump into 
 Gude big fader sheep. 
 Yee! His head ban harder 
 Sum a china plate; 
 Dis ban yolly doings, — 
 Stealing ride on freight.
 
 152 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 Yumping over crossings, 
 Bumping over svitches 
 Till my side ban getting 
 Saxty-seven stiches. 
 Ay hear brakeman faller 
 Say, "Yust ten hours late!" 
 It ban hal, ay tal yu, 
 Stealing ride on freight. 
 
 WiUiam F. Kirk. 
 
 AI TANK SO 
 
 The naight bene fallin' purty fast, , 
 
 Ven troo the town a faller passed; 
 
 A youth a holdin' in hees hand 
 A leeten flag an' on it stand — 
 "Ai tank so!" 
 
 That faller he bene lukin' sick, 
 
 Jet he var yumpin' purty quick; 
 An' laik from out a trombone rung 
 
 The vords from that Swede faller 's thung— 
 "Ai tank so!" 
 
 An' in dthe windows var the laight 
 A shinin' thru so varm an' braight; 
 
 High oop dhat hill them glaishers shone, 
 But jet that faller hae bene groan — 
 "Ai tank so!" 
 
 "Ju batter sthop," an ole man said, 
 "Kom back; Ai tank ju vill git ded; 
 
 But jet he pooshin' raight along, 
 
 An' he bene jellin' gude an strong — 
 "Ai tank so!"
 
 Material for Interpretation 153 
 
 Hees voman opening vide her mout, 
 Bene jellin' "Yohn du. skall luke out, 
 
 Don't go oop dar" — he hearin' her voice, 
 Bene say: "Ju batter stop dhat noise— 
 Ai tank so ! " 
 
 A leeten fleeka she bene cry: 
 
 "Say, Yohn, how kan du git so high?'* 
 
 An' Yohn say, lukin' kinda sveet, 
 
 **Bene gittin' dar vid bode min feet — 
 Ai tank so ! " 
 
 An' dhen he jick along ju bat, 
 
 A climb in' oop thru snow an' vet. 
 Bene jellin', "Ai kan ickka stop 
 
 Till Ai bene yumpin' on the top — 
 Ai tank so ! " 
 
 Last mornin' Ai bene seein' him, 
 
 Hees pants bene tore, hees eyes been dim; 
 
 Ai say tu Yohn, "Vad skall du har, 
 
 Now tal me, har du bene oop dar?" 
 
 "Ai tank so!" 
 
 J. B. Bab cock.
 
 SECTION XI 
 lEISH
 
 i
 
 SECTION XI 
 
 IRISH 
 
 (See also "Modern Literature for Oral Interpretation," 
 Johnson, pages 100, 103, 106, poetry.) 
 
 THE WISE MAN 
 
 Michael has a book-shelf 
 Stacked amazin' high! 
 Michael reads in sivin tongues 
 Wid a rheumy eye! 
 
 Faith, he's called a wise man, 
 Readin ' half the night ; 
 Delvin' into stoodjous things 
 Betther kept from sight! 
 
 Michael spends a Spring day 
 Squintin' o'er a script — 
 Michael niver kisst a gerrl 
 "Warm and rosy-lipped! 
 
 Faith, I've studied long, now, 
 "Wimmen and their ways — 
 And judgin' where it's took me 
 Thim were stoodjous daysl 
 
 Little rote I've learnt me, 
 Little have I read — 
 But I know a thing or two 
 Not in Michael 's head ! 
 
 Arthur Stringer. 
 157
 
 158 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 THE CUT FINGER 
 
 The Gossoon (weeping). 
 
 It's bleedin'! It's bleedin'! 
 
 The Ould AYoman (soothingly). 
 
 An' shure me lad, 'tis bleedin'; 
 But come, me hearty, laddy buck, be brave an' do not is 
 cry; ^ 
 
 A lad that's learnin' readin' sh'u'd be far beyant the i^ 
 heedin ' i 
 
 Av a tiny bit o' finger cut that hurts a bit foreby. 
 Ere ye come till wan an' twinty 
 Ye '11 be havin' hurts in plinty, 
 
 An' ye '11 learn a bit o' bleedin' doesn't mean ye 're goin' 
 t' die. 
 
 The Gossoon (crying). 
 
 It's bleedin'! It's bleedin'! 
 
 The Ould Woman (comfortingly). 
 
 An' shure me lad, 'tis bleedin', 
 
 But he's me slashing buckeen, an' he will not weep at all. 
 A rag is all 'tis needin' fer t' sthop the whole proceedin' 
 An' shure a bit o' rosy blood won't make me gossoon 
 bawl. 
 Fer 'tis but wan way av knowin' 
 Ye have good red blood a-flowin' 
 An' a-workin' all inside av ye t' make ye strong an' 
 tall. 
 
 The Gossoon (sobbing).
 
 Material for Interpretation 159 
 
 It'sbleedin'! It's bleedin'! 
 
 The Ould Woman (lovingly). 
 
 Aye, aye, me lad, 'tis bleedin', 
 
 An' some foine day yer heart will bleed as bleeds the 
 heart av me. 
 The Saints ye will be pleadin' but 'tis little they'll be 
 heedin'. 
 Fer the world is full o' bleedin' hearts on either side 
 the sea. 
 An' I'd die t' aise the achin' 
 "When ye feel yer heart a-breakin', 
 
 But, ah! the poor ould woman won't be there t' com- 
 fort ye. 
 
 Ellis Parker Butler. 
 
 THE WISHING-BRIDGE 
 
 'Tis years agone I saw herself, a warm and wishful day in 
 
 June — 
 A tourist lady, silken fine, and me the ragged wild gossoon. 
 I ran beside her stumbling nag, a hard-mouthed creature, 
 
 old and slow. 
 The seven murdering Irish miles up through the Gap of 
 
 old Dunloe. 
 
 And him that rode foreninst herself, and edging nearer 
 
 all the while. 
 The fat-jowled, ugly old mudhoon (may devil take his 
 
 oily smile!), 
 I saw her turn her head aside the whiles he'd whisper in 
 
 her ear ; 
 I saw the stricken eyes of her, so lost and lone and filled 
 
 with fear.
 
 IGO Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 But her old mother rode behind. She watched her like a 
 
 pouncing hawk, 
 And purred like any pussy-cat, and strained her ear to 
 
 catch their talk. 
 His words were fair (bad scram to him!), but, oh, her 
 
 mouth that drooped forlorn ! 
 Alone, for all the tourist folk, and lonesome as the moon of 
 
 dawn. 
 
 "Now sorrow take your gold !" thinks I. ''What's jewels, 
 
 lands, and satin clothes? 
 If you 'd be King of France itself, 'tis like a pig would eat 
 
 a rose." 
 The furze was gleaming in the sun, and when we climbed 
 
 the topmost ridge, 
 "Miss dear," I points, "St. Patrick's Lake! 'Tis there we 
 
 cross the Wishing-bridge. " 
 
 "The "Wishing-bridge," she says and smiles, and, oh, her 
 
 smile was worse nor tears ! 
 "Give him the no. Miss, dear," I says too low for any 
 
 other ears; 
 And then rose-red she went, the lamb, from her white neck 
 
 until her hair. 
 And "Funny Irish boy," she says, "how did you guess? 
 
 How do you dare?" 
 
 "Alannah, is it blind I am? Sure, he's an owl if you're 
 
 a lass. 
 Lay your left hand upon your heart, and all you wish 
 
 shall come to pass.
 
 Material for Interpretation 161 
 
 Not while the furze is gold," I says, "should young hearts 
 
 ever mate with old, 
 Or love be sold for pounds or pence — and, faith, the furze 
 
 is always gold." 
 
 She stayed her nag upon the bridge ; I saw her half-scared 
 
 glances dart; 
 She fetched a long and quivery breath; she laid her left 
 
 hand on her heart. 
 I saw her eyes the like of stars. "Oehone," thinks I, 
 
 * ' sweet saints above ! 
 Who wouldn't sell his soul itself to be the man you're 
 
 thinking of?" 
 
 Then he caught up and whispered low, but "No" she gave 
 
 him, loud and clear, 
 Her head held up like any queen, and bold enough for all 
 
 to hear ; 
 And she rode on, and paid no heed to the black rage behind 
 
 her there — 
 The purple, poisonous look he had, the mother fit to tear 
 
 her hair. 
 
 And then that furze was twice as gold, and like an angel 's 
 
 cloak the skies. 
 For whiles she hummed deludering tunes, and whiles she 
 
 dreamed with misty eyes. 
 Too soon we reached Killarney's Lake; she paid me well, 
 
 and went her ways, 
 And, oh, the lighC was on her face ! God save her kindly 
 
 all her days!
 
 162 Dialtcts for Oral Interpretation 
 
 Traveling folk come year by year ; I guide and serve them 
 
 as before. 
 I tell them tales, I earn my hire, I see the likes of her no 
 
 more. 
 It warms me now, on winter nights, to mind her look that 
 
 day in June — 
 A tourist lady, silken fine, and me the ragged wild 
 
 gossoon. 
 
 Buth Comfort Mitchell. 
 
 A NATURAL PHILOSOPHER 
 
 Ladies and Gentlemen: I see so many foine-lookin' 
 people sittin' before me that if you'll excuse me I'll be 
 after takin' a seat meself. You don't know me, I'm think- 
 ing, as some of yees 'ud be noddin' to me afore this. I'm 
 a walkin' pedestrian, a travelin' philosopher. Terry 
 O 'Mulligan's me name. I'm from Dublin, where many 
 philosophers before me was raised and bred. Oh, phil- 
 osophy is a foine study! I don't know anything about it^ 
 but it's a foine study! Before I Jcim over I attended ani 
 important meetin' of philosophers in Dublin, and the dis-. 
 cussin' and talkin' you'd hear there about the world 'udj 
 warm the very heart of Socrates or Aristotle himself. 
 "Well, there was a great many imminent and learned min 
 there at the meetin', and I was there too, and while we 
 was in the very thickest of a heated argument, one comes 
 to me and says he, "Do you know what we're talkin' 
 about?" "I do," says I, "but I'd not know could you 
 understand or not." "Well," says he, "we'll see," says 
 he. Sure'n I didn't know anything, how to get out of 
 it then, so I piled in, "for," says I to myself, "never let 
 on to any one that you don't know anything, but make
 
 Material for Interpretation 163 
 
 them believe that you do know all about it." So says I 
 to him, takin' up me shillalah this way (holding a very 
 crooked stick perpendicular), "We'll take that for the 
 straight line of the earth's equator" — how's that for 
 gehography? (to the audience). Ah, that was straight till 
 the other day I bent it in an argument. "Very good," 
 says he. "Well," says I, "now the sun rises in the east" 
 (placing the disengaged hand at the eastern end of the 
 stick). Well, he couldn't deny that. "And when he gets 
 up he 
 
 Darts his rosy beams 
 Through the mornin' gleams." 
 
 Do you moind the poetry there? (to the audience with a 
 smile). "And he keeps on risin' and risin' till he reaches 
 his meriden." "What's that?" says he. "His dinner- 
 toime, ' ' says I ; " sure 'n that 's my Latin for dinner-toime, 
 and when he gets his dinner 
 
 He sinks to rest 
 
 Behind the glorious hills of the west. ' ' 
 
 Oh, begorra, there's more poetry! I fail it creepin' out all 
 over me. "There," says I, well satisfied with myself, "will 
 that do for ye?" "You haven't got done with him yet," 
 says he. * ' Done with him, ' ' says I kinder mad like ; 
 "what more do you want me to do with him? Didn't I 
 bring him from the east to the west? What more do you 
 want?" "Oh," says he, "you'll have to bring him back 
 again to the east to rise next mornin'." By Saint Patrick! 
 and wasn't I near betrayin' me ignorance. Sure'n I 
 thought there was a large family of suns, and they rise 
 one after the other. But I gathered meself quick, and, says 
 I to him, "Well," says I, "I'm surprised you axed me 
 that simple question. I thought any man 'ud know," says
 
 161 I^ialccts for Oral Interpretation 
 
 I, "wlien the s\ni sinks to rest in the west — when the sun 
 — " says I. "You said tliat before," says he. "Well, I 
 want to press it stronger upon you," says I. "When the 
 sun sinks to rest in tlie east — no — west, why he — why he 
 waits till it grows dark, and then he goes hack in the 
 noight tainie!" 
 
 T. Maccahe. 
 
 THE EVENING UP 
 
 Whin Shamus O 'Regen was sellin ' me hay, 
 And as sheueh-rank as iver was mowed. 
 He'd seat his gerrl Moira, for such was his way, 
 On the top av his thimble-rig load. 
 
 And he 'd bring me his scrapin 's av thistle and whin, 
 And I 'd take thim wid niver a word ; 
 But I'd hold for a breath, as the cart jolted in, 
 Moira 's hand, that was soft as a bird. 
 
 For Moira was wishtful and white as the May, 
 And her eyes they would throuble your heart 
 Till any ould bramble seemed special fine hay 
 Wid her face at the top av the cart. 
 
 Yet me horse and me cattle wint lean as a kite, 
 Wid their feedin' on Shamus 's hay. 
 And I'd figure me loss to a rick over-night — 
 But, in faith, I had nothin' to say. 
 
 For, Moira and me, we secretly met 
 
 At the end av ould Ballybree Wall, 
 
 And she gave me the word that soon made me forget 
 
 I 'd iver been cheated at all ! 
 
 Arthur Stringer.
 
 Material for Interpretation 165 
 
 DROWNDED 
 
 Tom Cassidy is drownded — 
 
 That God may keep his soul. 
 
 His body floats in the deep cold sea, 
 
 An' only the herring and mackerel shoal 
 
 Can tell where Tom may be. 
 
 May Christ have pity on his soul, — 
 
 An' that He'll pity me. 
 
 Tom threatened that he'd bring me 
 
 Strange shells from foreign sands, 
 
 An' Chiney silk that would make a gown, 
 
 With three ostrich feathers from foreign lands 
 
 All creamy white and brown. 
 
 My grief! I stand with empty hands, 
 
 An' him and all gone down. 
 
 There's none can ever tell me 
 
 How long he may have striven 
 
 With the cold black waves that choked his life, 
 
 An' him with the sins on his soul unshriven, 
 
 In that his mortal strife. 
 
 God's mercy on the unforgiven, 
 
 And me his promised wife. 
 
 My curse upon the ocean, 
 
 My curse upon the wind! 
 
 That's taken my heart's bright core on me, 
 
 An' made him a sepulchre none can find 
 
 But them that's in the sea. 
 
 Why would they leave the old behind 
 
 And take the young and free? 
 
 W. M. Letts^
 
 166 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 "CUTTIN' RUSHES" 
 
 Oh maybe it was yesterday, or fifty years ago! 
 
 I\lesc'lf was risin' early on a day for cuttin' rushes, 
 
 Walkin' up the Brabla' burn, still the sun was low. 
 
 Now I 'd hear the burn run an' then I 'd hear the thrushes. ■ 
 
 Young, still young!— ran' drenchin' wet the grass, 
 
 Wet the golden honeysuckle hangin' sweetly down; 
 
 Here, lad, here ! will ye follow where I pass, 
 
 An' find me cuttin' rushes on the mountain. 
 
 Then was it only yesterday, or fifty years or so ? 
 Rippin' round the bog pools high among the heather, 
 The hook it made me hand sore, I had to leave it go, 
 'T was he that cut the rushes then for me to bind together. 
 Come, dear, come! — an' back along the burn 
 See the darlin' honeysuckle hangin' like a crown. 
 Quick, one kiss, — sure, there' some one at the turn! 
 * * Oh, we 're af ther cuttin ' rushes on the mountain. ' ' 
 
 Yesterday, yesterday, or fifty years ago. . . . 
 
 I waken out o ' dreams when I hear the summer thrushes. ' 
 
 Oh, that 's the Brabla' bum, I can hear it sing an' flow. 
 
 For all that 's fair, I 'd sooner see a bunch o' green rushes'" 
 
 Run, burn, run ! can ye mind when we were young ? 
 
 The honeysuckle hangs above, the pool is dark an ' brown : 
 
 Sing, burn, sing ! can ye mind the song ye sung 
 
 The day we cut the rushes on the mountain? 
 
 Moira O'Neill.
 
 Material for Interpretation 167 
 
 ON POLITICAL PARADES 
 
 Mr. Hennessy, wearing a silver-painted stove-pipe hat 
 and a silver cape and carrying a torch, came in, looking 
 much the worse for wear. The hat was dented, the cape 
 was torn, and there were marks on Mr, Hennessy 's face. 
 
 "Where ye been?" asked Mr. Dooley. 
 
 * ' Ma-archin ', ' ' said Mr. Hennessy. 
 
 "Be th' looks iv ye, ye might have been th' line iv 
 ma-arch f'r th' p'rade. "Who's been doin' things to ye?" 
 
 "I had a currency debate with a man be th' name iv 
 Joyce, a towny iv mine, in th' Audjioto-room Hotel," said 
 Mr. Hennessy. "Whin we got as far as th' price iv wheat 
 in th' year iv th' big wind, we pushed each other. Give 
 me a high glass of beer. I 'm as dhry as a gravel roof. ' ' 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Dooley, handing over the glass, "ye 're 
 an ol' man, and', as th' good book says, an ol' fool is th' 
 worst yet. So I '11 not thry to con-vince ye iv th' error iv 
 ye'er ways. But why anny citizen that has things in his 
 head shud dhress himself up like a sandwich-man, put a 
 torch on his shoulder, an' toddle over this blessid town with 
 his poor round feet, is more than I can come at with all me 
 intelligence. 
 
 "I agree with ye perfectly, Hinnissy, that this here is a 
 crisis in our histhry. On wan hand is arrayed th' Shylock 
 an' th' pathrites, an' on th' other side th' pathrites an' 
 th' arnyehists. Th' Constitution must be upheld, th' 
 gover'mint must be maintained, th' downthrodden farmer 
 an' workin'man must get their rights. But do ye think, 
 man alive, that ye 're goin' to do this be pourin' lard ile 
 fr'm ye'er torch down ye'er spine or thrippin' over sthreet- 
 car tracks like a dhray-horse thryin' to play circus? Is
 
 168 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 th' Constitution anny safer to-night because ye have to 
 have ye'er leg amputated to get ye'er boot off, or because 
 Joyce has made ye'er face look like th' back dure-step iv a 
 German resthrant? 
 
 "Jawnny Mack took me down in th' afternoon f'r to 
 see th' monsthrous p'rade iv th' goold men. It was a 
 gloryous spectacle. Th' sthreets were crowded with goold 
 bugs an' women an' polismin an' ambulances. Th' procis- 
 sion was miles an' miles long. Labour an' capital marched 
 side be side, or annyhow labour was in its usual place, 
 afther th' capitalists. It was a noble sight f'r to see th' 
 emploj'er iv workin'men marchin' ahead iv his band iv 
 sturdy toilers that to rest thimsilves afther th' layboryous 
 occupations iv th' week was reelin' undher banners that 
 dhrilled a hole in their stomachs or carryin' two-be-four 
 joists to show their allegiance to th' naytional honour. A 
 man that has to shovel coke into a dhray or sho^e lumber 
 out iv th' hole iv a barge or elevate his profession be 
 carryin' a hod iv mort to th' top iv a laddher doesn't 
 march with th' grace iv an antelope, be a blamed s^ght. 
 To march well, a man's feet have to be mates; an', if he 
 has two left feet both runnin' sideways, he ought to have 
 intherference boots to keep him fr'm settin' ^re to his 
 knees. Whin a man walks as if he expected to lave a leg 
 stuck in th' sthreet behind him, he has th' gait proper f'r 
 half-past six o'clock th' avenin' befure pay-day. But 'tis 
 not th' prance iv an American citizen makin' a gloryous 
 spectacle iv himsilf. " 
 
 * ' They were coerced, ' ' said Mr. Hennessy, gloomily. 
 
 "Don't you believe it," replied the philosopher. ''It 
 niver requires coercion to get a man to make a monkey 
 iv himsilf in a prisidintial campaign. He does it as aisily 
 as ye dhrink ye'er liquor, an' that 's too aisy. Don't ye
 
 Material for Interpretation 169 
 
 believe thim lads with lumber ya-ards on their necks an' 
 bar 'Is on their feet was co-erced. There wasn't wan iv 
 thim that wuddn't give his week's wages f'r a chanst to 
 show how many times he cud thrip over a manhole in a 
 mile. No more co-erced than ye are whin ye r-run down 
 town an' make an ape iv ye'ersilf. I see ye marchin* 
 away fr'm Finucane's with th' Willum J. O'Briens. Th' 
 man nex' to ye had a banner declarin' that he was no 
 slave. 'Twas th' la-ad Johnson. He was r-right. He is 
 no slave, an' he won't be wan as long as people have 
 washin' to give to his wife. Th' man I see ye takin' a 
 dhrink with had a banner that said if th ' mines was opened 
 th' mills would be opened, too. He meant be that, that if 
 money was plenty enough f'r him to get some without 
 wur-rukin', he 'd open a gin mill. An' ye ma-arrched 
 afther Willum J. O'Brien, didn't ye? "Well, he 's a good 
 la-ad. If I didn't think so, I wudden't say it until I got 
 me strength back or cud buy a gun. But did Willum J. 
 O'Brien march? Not Willie. He was on horseback; an', 
 Hinnissy, if dollars was made out iv Babbit metal, an' 
 horses was worth sixty-sivin cints a dhrove, ye cudden't 
 buy a crupper." 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Hennessy, "annyhow, I proved me 
 hathred iv capital." 
 
 "So ye did," said Mr. Dooley. "So ye did. An' capital 
 this afthernoon showed its hatred iv ye. Ye ought to 
 match blisters to see which hates th' worst. Capital is at 
 home now with his gams in a tub iv hot wather; an' whin 
 he comes down to-morrah to oppriss labour an' square his 
 protisted notes, he '11 have to go on all fours. As f'r you, 
 Hinnissy, if 'twill aise ye anny, ye can hang f'r a few 
 minyits fr'm th' gas fixtures. Did th' good Dimmycrats 
 have a p'rade?"
 
 170 Dialttts for Oral Interpretation 
 
 "No," siiid Mr. Ilennessy. "But they rayviewed th' 
 day prtK'ission fr'ni tli' Pammer House. Both iv thim 
 was on Ih' stand." 
 
 F. P. Dunne. 
 
 THE CHOICE 
 
 Saint Joseph, let you send me a comrade true and kind, 
 For the one I 'm after seeking, it beats the world to find. 
 
 There 's Christy Shee 's a decent lad, but he 's too lank and 
 
 tall; 
 And Shaneen Burke will never do, for he 's a foot too small. 
 
 John Heffeman has gold enough, but sure he 'd have me bet 
 "Witli talkin' of the wife that died a year before we met. 
 
 Young Pat Delaney suits my mind, but he 's a thrifle wild ; 
 And Tim I 've known too well itself from since I was a 
 child. 
 
 Old Dennis JMorrissey has pigs, and cattle in the byre, 
 But, someways, I don't fancy him the far side o' the fire. 
 
 I 'd have Saint Joseph choose me a comrade rich and 
 
 kind — 
 And if it 's Terry Sullivan — maybe I might n 't mind. 
 
 W. M. Letts. 
 
 CHILDER' 
 
 They're longin' for a wee lad 
 Up in Tullagh Hail- 
 Where niver wanst a cradle was, 
 An' niver child at all!
 
 Material for Interpretation 171 
 
 They 're shpeakin ' all in whispers, 
 They're threadin' on their toes, 
 An' tin-and-twiiity sewin '-gerrls 
 Is thrimmin' satin clothes! 
 
 A deal av fuss an' feathers 
 Gintry makes, aroo, 
 Wid all their frightened wimmen-folk 
 When wan to wan is two! 
 
 They've twinty-hundred acres 
 Hid be jealous wall — 
 Yet niver throd a little foot 
 Thro' lonely Tullagh Hall! 
 
 But here beneath the ould thatch 
 Childer' come so fast 
 In faith, we put the first t'bed 
 For room to rock the last! 
 
 Arthur Stringer. 
 
 BIRDS 
 
 Sure maybe ye've heard the storm-thrush 
 
 Whistlin ' bould in March, 
 
 Before there' a primrose peepin' out, 
 
 Or a wee red cone on the larch ; 
 
 Whistlin' the sun to come out o' the cloud, 
 
 An' the wind to come over the sea, 
 
 But for all he can whistle so clear an ' loud, 
 
 He's never the bird for me. 
 
 Sure maybe ye've seen the song-thrush 
 After an April rain 
 
 Slip from in-undher the drippin' leaves, 
 Wishful to sing again ;
 
 17'2 Di(ilfci.s for Oral Interpretation 
 
 An' low -vvi' love when he's near the nest, 
 
 An' loud from the top o' the tree, 
 
 But for all he can flutter the heart in your breast, 
 
 He's never the bird for me. 
 
 Sure maybe ye've heard the red-breast 
 Singin' his lone on a thorn, 
 Mindin' himself o' the dear days lost, 
 Brave wid his heart forlorn. 
 The time is in dark November, 
 An' no spring hopes has he: 
 "Remember," he sings, "remember!" 
 Ay, th&n's the wee bird for me. 
 
 M&ira O'Neill. 
 
 KING 'TOOLE AND HIS GOOSE 
 
 "By Gor, I thought all the world, far and near, heered 
 o' King 'Toole — well, w^ell, but the darkness of mankind 
 is ontellible ! Well, sir, you must know, as you did n 't 
 hear it afore, that there was a king called King 'Toole, 
 ■who was a fine ould king in the ould ancient times, long 
 ago; and it was him that owned the churches in the early 
 days. The king, you see, was the right sort; he was the 
 rale boy, and loved sport as he loved his life, and huntin' 
 in partic'lar; and from the risin' of the sun, up he got, 
 and aw'ay he wint over the mountains beyant afther the 
 deer; and the fine times them woor. 
 
 "Well, it was all mighty good, as long as the king had 
 his health; but, you see, in coorse of time the king grew 
 ould, by raison he was stiff in his limbs, and when he got 
 sthriken in years, his heart failed him, and he was lost 
 intirely for want o' divarshin, bekase he couldn't go a
 
 Material for Interpretation 173 
 
 huntin' no longer; and, by dad, the poor king was obleeged 
 at last for to get a goose to divart him. Oh, you may 
 laugh, if you like, but it 's truth I 'm tellin' you; and 
 they way the goose divarted him was this-a-way: You 
 see, the goose used for to swim across the lake, and go 
 divin for throut, and cotch fish on a Friday for the king, 
 and flew every other day about the lake, divartin' the 
 poor king. All went on mighty well, antil, by dad, the 
 goose got sthriken in years like her master, and couldn't 
 divart him no longer, and then it was that the poor king 
 was lost complate. The king was walkin' one mornin' by 
 the edge of the lake, lamentin' his cruel fate, and thinkin' 
 o' drownin' himself, that could get no divarshun in life, 
 when all of a suddint, turnin' round the corner beyant, 
 who should he meet but a might dacent young man comin' 
 up to him. 
 
 * * ' God save you, ' says the king to the young man. 
 
 ** 'God save you kindly, King 'Toole,' says the young 
 man. 'Thrue for you,' says the king. 'I am King 
 'Toole,' says he, 'prince and plennypennytinchery o' 
 these parts,' says he; 'but how kem ye to know that?' 
 says he. 'Oh, never mind,' says Saint Kavin. 
 
 "You see it was Saint Kavin, sure enough — the saint 
 himself in disguise, and nobody else. 'Oh, never mind,' 
 says he, 'I know more than that. May I make bowld to 
 ax how is your goose. King 'Toole?' says he. 'Bluran- 
 agers, how kem ye to know about my goose?' says the 
 king. ' Oh, no matther ; I was given to understand it, says 
 Saint Kavin. After some more talk the king says, 'AVhat 
 are you?' 'I 'm an honest man,' says Saint Kavin. 'Well, 
 honest man,' says the king, 'and how is it you make your 
 money so aisy?' 'By makin' ould things as good as new,' 
 says Saint Kavin. ' Is it a tinker you are ? ' says the king.
 
 17i Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 *No,' says the saint; 'I 'm no tinker by thrade, King 
 'Toole; I 've a better thrade than a tinker,' says he — 
 'what would you say,' says he, 'if I made your ould goose 
 as good as new?' 
 
 "My dear, at the word o' making his goose as good as 
 new, you 'd think the poor ould kmg's eyes was ready to 
 jump out iv his head. With that the king whistled, and 
 down kem the poor goose, all as one as a hound, waddlin' 
 up to the poor cripple, her masther, and as like him as 
 two pays. The minute the saint elapt his eyes on the 
 goose, 'I '11 do the job for you,' says he, 'King O 'Toole.' 
 *By Jaminee!' says King 'Toole, 'if you do, bud I '11 say 
 you 're the cleverest fellow in the sivin parishes.' 'Oh, 
 by dad, ' says Saint Kavin, * you must say more nor that — 
 my horn 's not so soft all out,' says he, 'as to repair your 
 ould goose for nothin'; what '11 you gi' me if I do the job 
 for you? — that 's the chat,' says Saint Kavin. 'I '11 give 
 you whatever you ax,' says the king; 'isn't that fair?' 
 'Divil a fairer,' says the saint; 'that 's the way to do 
 business. Now,' says he, 'this is the bargain I '11 make 
 with you. King 'Toole: Will you gi' me all the ground 
 the goose flies over, the first offer, afther I make her as 
 good as new?' 'I will,' says the king. 'You won't go 
 back on your word?' says Saint Kavin. 'Honor bright!' 
 says King 'Toole, howldin' out his fist. 'Honor bright,' 
 says Saint Kavin, back again, 'it 's a bargain. Come here !' 
 says he to the poor ould goose — ' come here, you unf ort 'nate 
 ould cripple, and it 's I that '11 make you the sportin' 
 bird.' With that, my dear, he took up the goose by the 
 two wings — 'Criss o' my crass an you,' says he, markin' 
 her to grace with the blessed sign at the same minute — and 
 throwin' her up in the air, 'whew,' says he, just givin' 
 her a blast to help her; and with that, my jewel, she tuk
 
 Material for Interpretation 175 
 
 to her heels, flyin' like one o' the aigles themselves, and 
 cuttin' as many capers as a swallow before a shower of 
 rain. 
 
 ' ' Well, my dear, it was a beautiful sight to see the king 
 standin' with his mouth open, lookin' at his poor ould 
 goose flyin' as light as a lark, and betther nor ever she 
 was: and when she lit at his fut, patted her an the head, 
 and 'Ma vourneen,' says he, 'but you are the darlint o' the 
 world.' 'And what do you say to me,' says Saint Kavin, 
 'for makin' her the like?' 'By gor,' says the king, 'I say 
 nothin' bates the art o' man, barrin' the bees.' 'And do 
 you say no more nor that?' says Saint Kavin, 'And that 
 I 'm behoulden to you,' says the king. 'But will you gi'e 
 me all the ground the goose flew over?' says Saint Kavin. 
 *I will,' says King 'Toole, 'and your welkim to it,' says 
 he, 'though it 's the last acre I have to give.' 'But you '11 
 keep your word thrue?' says the saint. 'As thrue as the 
 sun,' says the king. 'It 's well for you. King 'Toole, 
 that you said that word, ' says he ; ' for if you did n 't say 
 that word, the devil receave the hit o' your goose id ever 
 fly again.' When the king was as good as his word, Saint 
 Kavin was plazed with him, and thin it was that he made 
 himself known to the king. 'And,' says he, 'King 'Toole, 
 you 're a decent man, for I only kem here to thry you. 
 You don't know me,' says he, 'bekase I 'm disguised.' 
 'Musha! thin,' says the king, 'who are you?' 'I 'm Saint 
 Kavin,' said the saint, blessin' himself. 'Oh, queen iv 
 heaven!' says the king, makin' the sign o' the crass betune 
 his eyes, and fallin' down on his knees before the saint; 
 'it is the great Saint Kavin,' says he 'that I 've been dis- 
 coorsin' all this time without known' it,' says he, 'all as 
 one as if he was a lump iv a gossoon? — and so you 're a 
 saint?' says the king. 'I am,' says Saint Kavin. 'By gor,
 
 176 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 I thougrht I was only talking to a daeent boy,' says the 
 king. 'Well, you know the differ now,' says the saint. 
 'I 'm Saint Kavin,' says he, 'the greatest of all the saints.' 
 And so the king had his goose as good as new, to divart 
 him as long as he lived : and the saint supported him afther 
 ho kem into his property, as I tould you, until the day iv 
 his death — and that was soon afther; for the poor goose 
 thought he was ketchin' a throut one Fridaj^; but, my 
 jewel, it was a mistake he made — and instead of a throut, 
 it was a thieviu' horse-eel; and by gor, instead iv the 
 goose killin' a throut for the king's supper — by dad, the 
 eel killed the king's goose — and small blame to him; but 
 he did n 't ate her, bekase he dar n 't ate what Saint Kavin 
 laid his blessed hands on," 
 
 Samuel Lover. 
 
 THE FAIR 
 
 The pick o ' seven counties, so they 're tellin ' me, was there, 
 Horses racin ' on the track and fiddles on the green, 
 Flyin' flags and blowin' horns and all that makes a fair, 
 I 'm hearin' that the like of it was something never seen. 
 
 So it is they 're tellin me, 
 Girl dear, it may be true — 
 I only know the bonnet strings 
 Beneath your chin were blue. 
 
 I 'm hearin' that the cattle came that thick they stood in 
 
 rows. 
 And Doolan's Timmy caught the pig and Terry climbed 
 
 the pole, 
 They 're tellin' me they showed the cream of everything 
 
 that grows, 
 And never man had eyes enough for takin ' in the whole.
 
 Material for Interpretation 177 
 
 So it is they 're tellin' me, 
 Girl dear, it may be so, 
 I only know your little gown 
 Was whiter than the snow. 
 
 They 're tellin' me the gentry came twenty miles about, 
 And him that came from Ballinsloe sang limpin' Jamesey 
 
 down, 
 And 'twas Himself, no less, stood by to give the prizes out, 
 They 're tellin' me you 'd hear the noise from here to 
 
 Dublin town. 
 
 So it is they 're tellin' me, 
 Girl dear, the same may be, 
 I only know that comin' home 
 You gave your word to me. 
 
 Theodosia Garrison. 
 
 SAYS SHE 
 
 My Granny she often says to me, 
 Says she, ' ' You 're terrible bold. 
 It 's you have a right to mend your ways 
 Before you '11 ever grow old," 
 
 Says she. 
 "Before you '11 ever grow old. 
 For it 's steadfast now that you ought to be, 
 An' you going on sixteen," says she. 
 "What '11 you do when you 're old like me? 
 What '11 you do?" says she. 
 
 "What will I do when I 'm old?" says I. 
 "Och Musha, I '11 say my prayers.
 
 178 Diiiltcts for Oral Interpretation 
 
 I '11 wear a net an' a black lace cap 
 To cover my silver hairs, ' ' 
 
 Says I. 
 * ' To cover ray silver hairs. 
 When I am as old as Kate Kearney's cat 
 I '11 sell my dress and featherdy hat, 
 An' buy an old bedgown the like o' that, 
 The very like o' that." 
 
 My Granny she sighs and says to me, 
 "The years fly terrible fast, 
 The girls they laugh' an talk with the boys. 
 But they all grow old at last," 
 
 Says she. 
 "They all grow old at last. 
 At Epiphany cocks may skip," says she, 
 "But kilt by Easter they 're like to be. 
 By the Hokey ! you '11 grow as old as me, 
 As weak an' old," says she. 
 
 ^Maybe you tell me no lie," says I, 
 
 "But I 've time before me yet. 
 
 There 's time to dance and there 's time to sing, 
 
 So why would I need to fret ? ' ' 
 
 Says I. 
 "So why would I need to fret? 
 Old age may lie at the foot of the hill, 
 'Twixt hoppin' and trottin' we '11 get there still. 
 "Why would n 't we dance while we have the will. 
 Dance while we have the will?" 
 
 W. M. Letts.
 
 Material for Interpretation 179 
 
 I 'LL NIVER GO HOME AGAIN 
 
 I 'll niver go home again, 
 Home to the ould sad hills, 
 Home through the ould soft rain, 
 Where the curfew calls and thrills! 
 
 For I thought to find the ould wee house, 
 Wid the moss along the wall! 
 And I thought to hear the crackle-grouse, 
 And the brae-birds call! 
 
 And I sez, I '11 find the glad wee burn, 
 And the bracken in the glen, 
 And the fairy -thorn beyont the turn, 
 And the same ould men ! 
 
 But the ways I 'd loved and walked, avick, 
 Were no more home to me, 
 Wid their sthreets and turns av starin' brick, 
 And no ould face to see ! 
 
 And the ould glad ways I 'd belt in mind, 
 Loike the home av Moira Bawn, 
 And the ould green turns I 'd dreamt to find. 
 They all were lost and gone ! 
 
 And the white shebeen beside the leap 
 Where the racin' wathers swirled 
 And the burnin' kelp-shmoke used to creep— » 
 'T is now another world ! 
 
 And all thrampled out long years ago 
 By feet I 've niver seen 
 Are the fairy-rings that used to show 
 Along the low boreen!
 
 180 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 And the bairns that romped by Tullagh Burn 
 AVliin they saw me sthopped their play — 
 Through a mist av tears I tried to turn 
 And ghost-like creep away! 
 
 And I '11 niver go home again! 
 Home to the ould lost years, 
 Home where the soft warm rain 
 Drifts loike the drip av tears! 
 
 Arthur Stringer. 
 
 ON CHARITY 
 
 "Br-r-r!" cried Mr. McKenna, entering stiffly and 
 spreading his hands over the pot-bellied stove. "It 's 
 cold." 
 
 "Where?" a^ked Mr. Dooley. "Not here." 
 
 "It 's cold outside," said Mr. McKenna. "It was ten 
 below at Shannahan's grocery when I went by, and the 
 wind blowing like all possessed. Lord love us, but I pity 
 them that 's got to be out to-night. ' ' 
 
 "Save ye'er pity," said Mr. Dooley comfortably. "It 
 ain 't cowld in here. There 's frost on th ' window, 't is 
 thrue for ye; an' th' wheels has been singin' th' livelong 
 day. But what 's that to us? Here I am, and there ye 
 are, th' stove between us an' th' kettle hunimin'. In a 
 minyit it '11 bile, an' thin I '11 give ye a taste iv what '11 
 make a king iv ye. 
 
 * ' "Well, tubby sure, 't is thry in ' to be dhrivin ' a coal 
 wagon or a sthreet-car ; but 't is all in a lifetime. Th ' 
 diff'rence between me an' th' man that sets up in th' seat 
 thumpin' his chest with his hands is no more thin th' 
 diff'rence between him an' th' poor diwle that walks 
 along behind th' wagon with his shovel on his shoulder,
 
 Material for Interpretation 181 
 
 au' '11 thank th' saints f'r th' first chanst to put tin 
 ton iv ha-ard coal into a cellar f'r a quarther iv a dollar. 
 Th' lad afoot invies th' dhriver, an' th' dhriver invies me; 
 an' I might invy big Cleveland if it wasn't f'r th' hivinly 
 smell iv this here noggin. An' who does Cleveland invy? 
 Sure, it 'd be sacreliege f'r me to say. 
 
 * ' Me ol ' father, who was as full iv sayin 's as an almanac, 
 used to sink his spoon into th' stirabout, an' say, 'Well, 
 lads, this ain't bacon an' greens an' porther; but it '11 be 
 annything ye like iv ye '11 on 'y think iv th ' Cassidys. ' Th ' 
 Cassidys was th' poorest fam'ly in th' parish. They 
 waked th' oldest son in small beer, an' was little thought 
 of. Did me father iver ask thim in to share th ' stirabout ? 
 Not him. An' he was the kindest man in th' wurruld. 
 He had a heart in him as big as a lump iv tuft, but 
 he 'd say, 'Whin ye grow up, take no wan's sorrows to 
 ye 'ersilf , ' he says. ' 'T is th ' wise man that goes through 
 life thinkin' iv himself, fills his own stomach, an' takes 
 away what he can 't ate in his pocket. ' An ' he was r-right, 
 Jawn. We have throubles enough of our own. Th' 
 wurruld goes on just th' same, an' ye can find fifty men 
 to say th' lit'ny f'r ye to wan that '11 give ye what '11 
 relieve a fastin' spit. Th' dead ar-re alwaj's pop'lar. I 
 knowed a society wanst to vote a monyment to a man an' 
 refuse to help his fam'ly, all in wan night. 'T is cowld 
 outside th ' dure, ye say, but 't is war-rum in here ; as ' 
 I 'm gettin' in me ol' age to think that the diff'rence 
 between hivin an' hell is no broader " 
 
 Mr. Dooley's remarks were cut short by a cry from the 
 back room. It was unmistakably a baby's cry. Mr. 
 McKenna turned suddenly in amazement as Mr. Dooley 
 bolted. 
 
 "Well, in the name of the saints, what 's all this?" he
 
 182 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 cried, following his friend into the back room. He found 
 the philosopher, with an expression of the utmost sternness, 
 sitting on the side of his bed, with a little girl of two or 
 three in his arms. The philosopher was singing : — 
 
 "Ar-rah rack-a-bye-babby, on th' three top: 
 Whin th' wind blo-ows, th' cradle ull r-rock; 
 An', a-whin th' bough breaks, th' cradle ull fa-a-a-U, 
 An' a-down ull come babby, cradle, an' all." 
 
 Then he sang: — 
 
 ' ' In th ' town iv Kilkinny there du-wilt a fair ma-aid, 
 In th' town iv Kilkinny there du-wilt a fair ma-aid, 
 She had cheeks like th' roses, and hair iv th' same, 
 An' a mouth like ripe strawburries burrid in crame. " 
 
 He rocked the child to and fro, and its crying ceased 
 while he sang : — 
 
 "Chip, chip, a little horse; 
 Chip, chip, again, sir, 
 How many miles to Dublin? 
 Threescure an' tin, sir." 
 
 The little girl went to sleep on Mr. Dooley's white apron. 
 He lifted her tenderly, and carried her over to his bed. 
 Then he tiptoed out with an apprehensive face, and whis- 
 pered : " It 's Jawn Donahue 's kid that wandhered away 
 fr'm home, an' went to sleep on me dure-step. I sint th' 
 Dorsey boy to tell th' mother, but he 's a long time gone. 
 Do ye run over, Jawn, an' lave thim know." 
 
 F. P. Dunne. 
 
 OULD DOCTOR MA'GINN 
 
 The ould doctor had only wan failin', 
 It stayed wid him, faith, till he died ; 
 And that was the habit av wearin' 
 His darby a thrifle wan side !
 
 Material for Interpretation 183 
 
 And twenty times daily 't was straightened, 
 
 But try as he would for a year, 
 
 Not thinkin', he 'd give it a teether 
 
 A thrifle down over wan ear! 
 
 It sat him lop-sided and aisy; 
 It troubled his kith and his kin — 
 But och, 't was the only thing crooked 
 About our ould Doctor Ma'Ginn! 
 
 And now that he 's gone to his Glory — 
 Excuse me, a bit av a tear — 
 Here 's twenty to wan that his halo 
 Is slantin ' down over his ear ! 
 
 Arthur Stringer. 
 
 A DONEGAL FAIRY 
 
 Ay, it 's a bad thing to displeasure the gentry, sure 
 enough — they can be unfriendly if they 're angered, an' 
 they can be the very best o' gude neighbors if they 're 
 treated kindly. 
 
 My mother's sister was her lone in the house one day, 
 wi' a' big pot o' water boiling on the fire, and ane o' the 
 wee folk fell down the chimney, and slipped wi' his leg 
 in the hot water. 
 
 He let a terrible squeal out o' him, an' in a minute the 
 house was full o ' wee crathurs pulling him out o ' the pot, 
 an' carrying him across the floor. 
 
 "Did she scald you?" my aunt heard them saying to 
 him. 
 
 "Na, na, it was mysel' scalded my ainsel','' quoth the 
 wee fellow.
 
 184 Dhihcis for Oral Interpretation 
 
 "A weol, a wcel," says they. "If it was your ainsel' 
 scalded yoursel', we '11 say nothing, but if she had scalded 
 you, we 'd ha' made her pay. 
 
 Letitia MacLintock. 
 
 TOMORROW 
 
 I. Her, that yer Honor was spakin' to? Whin, yer 
 
 Honor? last year — 
 Standin' here be the bridge, when last yer Honor 
 
 was here ? 
 An' yer Honer ye gev her the top of the mornin', 
 
 "Tomorra," says she. 
 What did they call her, yer Honor? They called 
 
 her Molly Magee, . . . 
 
 II. Shure, an' meself renumbers wan night eomin' down 
 
 be the sthrame, 
 An' it seems to me now like a bit of histher-day in 
 
 a dhrame — 
 Here where yer Honor seen her — there was but a 
 
 slip of a moon, 
 But I heard thim — Molly Magee wid her batchelor, 
 
 Danny O'Roon — 
 "You 've been takin' a dhrop o' the erathur," an' 
 
 Danny says, "Troth, an' I been 
 Dhrinkin ' yer health wid Shamus 'Shea at Katty 's 
 
 shebeen ; 
 But I must be lavin' ye soon." "Ochone are ye 
 
 goin' away?" 
 * * Goin ' to cut the Sassenach whate, ' ' he says, * ' Over 
 
 the say" —
 
 Material for Interpretation 185 
 
 **An' whin will ye meet me agin?" an' I hard him 
 "Molly asthore, 
 
 I'll meet you agin tomorra," says he, "be the chapel- 
 door." 
 
 **An' whin are ye goin' to lave me?" "0' Monday 
 mornin'," says he; 
 
 "An shure thin ye '11 meet me tomorra?" "To- 
 morra, tomorra, Machree!" 
 
 Thin Molly's ould mother, yer Honor, that had no 
 likin' for Dan, 
 
 Call'd from her cabin an' tould her to come away 
 from the man, 
 
 An' Molly Magee kem flyin' acrass me, as light as 
 a lark. 
 
 An' Dan stood there for a minute, an' thin wint into 
 the dark. 
 
 But wirrah ! the storm that night — the tundher, an ' 
 rain that fell. 
 
 An' the sthrames runnin' down at the back o' the 
 glin 'ud 'a dhrownded Hell. 
 
 III. But airth was at pace nixth mornin', an' Hiven in 
 
 its glory smiled, 
 As the Holy Mother o' Glory that smiles at her 
 
 sleepin' child — 
 Ethen— she stept on the chapel-green, an' she turn'd 
 
 herself roun' 
 Wid a diamond dhrop in her eye, for Danny was 
 
 not to be foun', 
 An' many 's the time that I watch 'd her at mass 
 
 lettin' down the tear. 
 For the Divil a Danny was there, yer Honor, for 
 
 forty year.
 
 186 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 IV. Ooh, Molly Magee, wid the red o' the rose an' the 
 
 white o' the May, 
 Au' yer hair as black as the night, an' yer eyes as 
 
 bright as the day! . . . 
 An' sorra the queen wid her scepter in sich an 
 
 illigant hau', 
 An' the fall of yer foot in the dance was as light 
 
 as snow an the Ian'. . . , 
 
 V. An' the boys Avor about her agin whin Dan didn't 
 
 come to the fore, 
 An' Shamus along wid the rest, but she put thim 
 
 all to the door. 
 An', afther, I thried her meself av the bird 'ud 
 
 come to me call, 
 But Molly, begorrah, 'ud listhen to naither at all, 
 
 at all. . . . 
 
 VI. An' afther her paarints had inter 'd glory, an' both 
 
 in wan day, 
 She began to spake to herself, the crathur, an' 
 
 whispher, an' say 
 ''Tomorra, Tomorra!" an' Father Molowny he tuk 
 
 her in han', 
 "Molly, you 're manin'," he says, "me dear, av I 
 
 undherstan ', 
 That ye '11 meet your paarints agin an' yer Danny 
 
 O'Roon afore God 
 Wid his blessed Marthy rs an ' Saints " ; an ' she gev 
 
 him a frindly nod, 
 "Tomorra, Tomorra," she says, an' she didn't 
 
 intind to desave. 
 But her wits wor dead, an' her hair was as white 
 
 as the snow an a grave.
 
 Material for Interpretation 187 
 
 VII. Arrah now, here last month they wor diggin' the 
 
 bog, an' they foun' 
 Dhrownded in black bog-wather a corp lyin ' undher 
 
 groun'. . . . 
 An' they laid this body they foun' an the grass 
 Be the chapel-door, an' the people 'ud see it that 
 
 wint into mass — 
 But a frish gineration had riz, an' most of the ould 
 
 was few, 
 An' I didn't know him meself, an' none of the 
 
 parish knew. 
 
 VIII. But Molly kem limpin' up wid her stick, she was 
 
 lamed iv a knee. 
 Thin a slip of a gossoon call'd, "Div ye know him, 
 
 Molly Magee?" 
 An' she stood up straight as the Queen of the world 
 
 — she lifted her head — 
 **He said he would meet me tomorra!" an' dhropt 
 
 down dead an the dead. 
 
 IX. Och, Molly, we thought, maehree, ye would start 
 
 back agin into life, 
 Whin we laid yez, aich be aieh, at yer wake like 
 
 husban' an' wife, 
 Sorra the dhry eye thin but was wet for the frinds 
 
 that was gone ! 
 Sorra the silent throat but we hard it cryin' 
 
 "Ochone!" 
 An' Shamus O'Shea that has now ten childr' han'- 
 
 some an' tall, 
 Him an' his childer wor keenin' as if he had lost 
 
 thim all.
 
 188 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 X. Thin his Riverence buried thim both in wan grave 
 
 be the dead boor-tree, 
 The young: man Danny O'Roon wid his ould woman, 
 
 Molly Magee. . . . 
 An' now that I tould yer Honor whatever I hard 
 
 an' seen, 
 Yer Honor '11 give me a thrifle to dhrink yer health 
 
 in potheen, 
 
 Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 CLOIDNA OF THE ISLE 
 
 I HAD me bit av hay-land eallin' for the scythe. 
 
 When who should hurry hillward, wishtful-loike, and 
 
 blithe. 
 But Cloidna av the Isle, that gerrl av pink an ' white, 
 Wid eyes av Irish blue an' hair as black as night! . . . 
 I had me hay to mow an' gather into rick. 
 But when ye talk wid handsome gerrls, och, time goes 
 
 quick ! 
 
 ' * Aroo, ' ' says she to me, wid her slow and meltin ' shmile, 
 * * I 'm lookin ' for a man, this many an ' many a mile ! 
 ' ' Me hay 's all ripe, ' ' says she ; ' ' whativer will I do 
 Widout a bit av help ? " . . . Bedad, her eye was blue ! 
 
 Och, what 's the use av moilin' till your life 's all done! 
 An' what 's a rick or two, beside a bit av fun ! 
 I swung me singin' scythe thro' Cloidna 's fields o' hay, 
 An' wid it swung me singin' heart each livelong day. 
 An' on me, iv'ry swath, she shmiled wid tender eyes . . . 
 Faith, when you 're wid a handsome woman, how time 
 flies! 
 
 Arthur Stringer.
 
 Material for Interpretation 189 
 
 CORRYMEELA 
 
 Over here in England I 'm helpin' wi' the hay, 
 An' I wisht I was in Ireland the livelong day; 
 Wearj^ on the English hay, an' sorra take the wheat! 
 Och! Corrymeela an' the blue sky over it. 
 
 There' a deep dumb river flowin' by beyont the hea-vy trees, 
 This livin' air is moithered wi' the bummin' o' the bees; 
 I wisht I 'd hear the Claddagh burn go runnin' through 
 
 the heat 
 Past Corrymeela, wi' the blue sky over it. 
 
 The people that 's in England is richer nor the Jews, 
 There' not the smallest young gossoon but thravels in his 
 
 shoes ! 
 I 'd give the pipe between me teeth to see a barefut child, 
 Och! Corrymeela an' the low south wind. 
 
 Here 's hands so full o' money an' hearts so full o' care, 
 By the luck o ' love ! I 'd still go light for all I did go bare. 
 "God save me, colleen dhas," I said: the girl she thought 
 
 me wild. 
 Far Corrymeela, an' the low south wind. 
 
 D'ye mind me now, the song at night is mortial hard to 
 
 raise, 
 The girls are heavy goin' here, the boys are ill to plase; 
 When one 'st I 'm out this workin ' hive, 't is I '11 be back 
 
 again — 
 ^Ay, Corrymeela, in the same soft rain.
 
 190 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 The puff o' smoke from one ould roof before an English 
 
 town ! 
 For a shaugh wid Andy Feelan here I 'd give a silver 
 
 crown, 
 For a curl o' hair like Mollie's ye '11 ask the like in vain, 
 Sweet Corrymeela, an' the same soft rain. 
 
 Maim O'Neill. 
 
 NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION 
 
 'T IS a bad spell iv weather we 're havin'? Faith, it is, 
 or else we mind it more thin we did. I can't remimber 
 wan day fr'm another. Whin I was young, I niver thought 
 iv rain or snow, cold or heat. But now th' heat stings, an' 
 th ' cold wrenches me bones ; an ', if I go out in th ' rain with 
 less on me thin a ton iv rubber, I '11 pay dear f'r it in 
 achin' j'ints, so I will. That 's what old age means; an' 
 now another year has been put on to what we had before, 
 an' we're expected to be gay. "Ring out th' old," says a 
 guy at th' Brothers' School. "Ring out th' old, ring in 
 th' new," he says. "Ring out th' false, ring in th' 
 thrue," says he. It 's a pretty sintimint, but how ar-re 
 we goin' to do it? Nawthin 'd please me betther thin to 
 turn me back on th' wicked an' ingloryous past, rayform 
 me life, an' live at peace with th' wurruld to th' end iv 
 me days. But how th ' diwle can I do it ? As th ' fellow 
 says, "Can th' leopard change his spots," or can't he? 
 
 You know Dorsey, iv course, th' cross-eyed May-o man 
 that come to this counthry about wan day in advance iv a 
 warrant f'r sheep-stealin ' ? Ye know what he done to me, 
 tellin' people I was caught in me cellar poorin' wather 
 into a bar'l? Well, last night says I to mesilf, thinkin' iv 
 Dorsey, I says: "I swear that henceforth I '11 keep me 
 temper with me fellow-men, I '11 not let anger or jealousy
 
 Material for Interpretation 191 
 
 get th' betther iv me," I says. "I '11 lave off all me old 
 feuds; an', if I meet me inimy goin' down th' sthreet, I '11 
 go up an' shake him be th' hand, if I 'm sure he has n't a 
 brick in th' other hand." Oh, I was mighty eomplimen- 
 thry to mesilf. I set be th' stove dhrinkin' hot wans, an' 
 ivry wan I dhrunk made me more iv a pote. 'T is th' way 
 with th' stuff. Whin I 'm in dhrink, I have manny a fine 
 thought ; an ' if I was n 't too comfortable to go an ' look 
 f'r th' ink-bottle, I cud write pomes that 'd make Shake- 
 speare an' Mike Scanlan think they were wur-rkin' on a 
 dredge. "Why," says I, "carry into th' new year th' 
 hathreds iv th' old?" I says. "Let th' dead past bury its 
 dead," says I. "Tur-rn ye'er lamps up to th' blue sky," 
 I says. (It was rainin' like th' diwle, an' th' hour was 
 midnight; but I give no heed to that, bein' comfortable 
 with th' hot wans.) An' I wint to th' dure, an', whin 
 Mike Duffy come by on number wan hundred an' five, 
 ringing ' the gong iv th ' ca-ar, I hollered to him : ' ' Ring out 
 th' old, ring in th' new." "Go back into ye'er stall," he 
 says, "an' wring ye-ersilf out," he saj^s. "Ye'er wet 
 through," he says. 
 
 Whin I woke up this mornin', th' pothry had all dis- 
 appeared, an' I began to think th' las' hot wan I took had 
 somethin' wrong with it. Besides, th' lumbago was 
 grippin' me till I cud hardly put wan foot befure th' 
 other. But I remimbered me promises to mesilf, an' I 
 wint out on th' sthreet, intindin' to wish ivry wan a 
 "Happy New Year," an' hopin' in me hear-rt that th' 
 first wan I wished it to'd tell me to go to th' diwle, so I 
 cud hit him in th' eye. I had n't gone half a block befure 
 I spied Dorsey acrost th' sthreet. I picked up a half a 
 brick an' put it in me pocket, an' Dorsey done th' same. 
 Thin we wint up to each other. "A Happy New Year,"
 
 iy'2 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 says I. "Th' same to you," says he, "an' manny iv 
 
 thim," he says. "Ye have a brick in ye'er hand," says I. 
 
 "I was thiukin' iv givin' ye a New Year's gift," says he. 
 
 *'Th' same to you, an' manny iv thim," says I, fondlin' 
 
 me own ammunition. " 'T is even all around," says he. 
 
 "It is," says I. "I was thinkin' las' night I 'd give up 
 
 me gredge again ye," says he. "I had th' same thought 
 
 mesilf," says I. "But, since I seen ye'er face," he says, 
 
 "I 've con-eluded that I 'd be more comfortable hatin' ye 
 
 thin havin' ye f'r a frind," says he. "Ye 're a man iv 
 
 taste," says I. An' we backed away fr'm each other. 
 
 He 's a Tip, an' can t'row a stone like a rifleman; an' I 'm 
 
 somethin' iv an amachoor shot with a half-brick mesilf. 
 
 Well, I 've been thinkin' it over, an' I 've argied it out 
 
 that life 'd not be worth livin' if we didn't keep our 
 
 inimies. I can have all th' f rinds I need. Anny man can 
 
 that keeps a liquor sthore. But a rale sthrong inimy, 
 
 specially a May-o inimy, — wan that hates ye ha-ard, an* 
 
 that ye 'd take th' coat off yer back to do a bad tur-rn 
 
 to, — is a luxury that I can't go without in me ol' days. 
 
 Dorsey is th' right sort. I can't go by his house without 
 
 bein' in fear he '11 spill th' chimb ly down on me head; 
 
 an', whin he passes my place, he walks in th' middle iv th' 
 
 sthreet, an' crosses himself. I '11 swear off on annything 
 
 but Dorsey. He 's a good man, an' I despise him. Here 's 
 
 a long life to him. _. . _, _ 
 
 Fmley P. Dunne. 
 
 PAT MAGEE 
 
 Walkin' wid Pat Magee 
 
 Down by the Tullagh bog, 
 
 "Mind where ye 're settin' yere shteps," says he, 
 
 *'Lest yez put per foot on a frog.
 
 Material for Interpretation 193 
 
 Frogs is the divil, " he says, 
 "I 'm thinkin','' he says, says he, 
 "Av I carried yez over to yondher wall 
 The sorrow a frog we 'd see." 
 
 Sittin' wid Pat Magee 
 
 Atop of a loose built wall, 
 
 "It 's unaisy I am in me mind, ' ' says he, 
 
 "Dhreadin' the stones might fall. 
 
 Stones is the divil to slip. 
 
 I 'm thinkin'," he says, says he, 
 
 *'Av I gave yer waist a bit av a clip 
 
 The sorrow a fear there 'd be." 
 
 Talkin' wid Pat Magee, 
 
 "Wid the arm af hira round me waist 
 
 An' the red sun sinkin', "Agrah," says he, 
 
 "Will yez let me shpake to the praste? 
 
 Delays is the divil 's delight, 
 
 An' I 'm thinkin V' he says, says he, 
 
 "Av the two av us settle this matther to-night, 
 
 'T is married next week we 'd be." 
 
 Lena Gyles. 
 
 CIRCUMSTANCES ALTER CASES 
 
 Tim Murphy's gon' walkin' wid Maggie O'Neill, 
 
 chone ! 
 
 If I was her muther, I 'd frown on sich foolin', 
 
 chone ! 
 
 1 'm sure it 's unmutherlike, darin' an' wrong 
 To let a gyrul hear tell the sass an' the song 
 Of every young felly that happens along, 
 
 O chone !
 
 1»)1. Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 An' Murphy, the things that 's be 'en sed of his doin', 
 
 O ehone! 
 
 'T is a cud that no daeent folks wants to be chewin', 
 
 ehone ! 
 
 If he came to my door wid his can on a twirl, 
 
 Fur to thry to make love to you, Biddy, my girl, 
 
 An, would 11 't 1 send him away wid a whirl, 
 
 ehone! 
 
 They say the gossoon is indecent and dirty, 
 
 O ehone! 
 
 In spite of his dressin ' so. 
 
 ehone ! 
 
 Let him dress up ez foine ez a king or a queen, 
 
 Let him put on more wrinkles than ever was seen, 
 
 You '11 be sure he 's no match for my little colleen, 
 
 O ehone ! 
 
 Faith the two is comin' back an' their walk is all over, 
 
 ehone! 
 
 'T was a pretty short walk fur to take wid a lover, 
 
 ehone ! 
 
 Why, I believe that Tim Murphy 's a kumin ' this way, 
 Ah, Biddy jest look at him steppin' so gay, 
 
 1 'd niver belave what the gossipers say, 
 ehone ! 
 
 He 's turned in the gate an' he 's coming a-caperin' 
 
 O ehone ! 
 
 Go Biddy, go quick an' put on a clane apern, 
 
 O ehone ! 
 
 Be quick as ye kin fur he 's right at the dure ; 
 
 Come in, master Tim, fur ye 're welcome I 'm shure. 
 
 "We were talkin' o' ye jest a minute before. 
 
 O ehone! Anonymous.
 
 Material for Interpretation 195 
 
 BORROWING A PIE 
 
 (Mrs. Harrigan crosses the road from her own house and enters 
 the kitchen of Mrs. Hubbell. Into her own dooryard a buggy con- 
 taining a man and woman has just been driven. Mrs. Harrigan 
 finds Mrs. Hubbell coming out of her pantry and opens fire on 
 her.) 
 
 Mrs. Harrigan: Good-marnin ' Mrs. Hubbell. I was 
 wonderin' if you had a pie you could lind me the loan of 
 till we ate it. Sure, Maggie Cassidy and her husband 
 has just this minute druv over from Bridgetown, unbe- 
 knownst to me, an' I see them out of the kitchen windy, 
 an' me hands in the suds, an' not a pie in the house, an' 
 all the family so fond of pies, an' Mr. Hubbell is so 
 dyspeptic-like that you must arlways have plinty of pies, 
 an' I tharght I 'd run over an' borry wan. Not a bit of 
 differ does it make if it 's punkin or mince or apple, but 
 Maggie was arlways deat' on pies, an' I want to show 
 her that I can bake as good as anny wan, an' she goin' 
 back to Bridgetown this afternoon, I suppose. {Mrs. Evh- 
 hell, who has retreated into the pantry, returns with a pie.) 
 Oh, would ye look at that ! Cranberry pie an ' arl kivered 
 wid slats like. Sure it looks like a valentine! Shall I 
 keep the plate, or do ye want it back? I never knows. 
 There 's some wants 'em back an' some never says. Sure, 
 what 's a plate more or less ? I say. But, to be sure, whin 
 I lind a plate I want it back, because, after arl, a plate is 
 a plate. Did you hair about me bye, Jimmy? He kera 
 naire bein' baggageman in the railroad station. On'y they 
 had wan they 'd have took him if he could rade an' write 
 better. Sure 'tis a pity he didn't accipt it, because he 
 can t'row a trunk six feet, he 's that strarng. He 's 
 strarng as an ox an ' gentle as a kitten. Ye did n 't see
 
 196 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 annything of our kitten, did ye? We lost it last week, an' 
 me man Mike says he come acrost it froze to deat' in a 
 drift. It was that cunnin'. It would stand in me lap an' 
 knock the spectacles off me face like a monkey. An' it 
 would ate of the plate wid the baby just like a tame 
 chicken. The baby's gettin' fatter since the kitten 's gone, 
 an' it 's a gre't loss it is, because he was so cunnin' an' so 
 weeny. I suppose ye haird of how nair the house was to 
 bein' burned to the ground on a windy day lasht wake, 
 and not a cint of insurance. Not a blessed cint. We was 
 able to put it out because I was washin' the clothes, an' 
 whin the baby lit the match, be good luck he flung it into 
 the tub an' it wint out. But the wind was that high, an' 
 Mike in the west lot, an' Jimmy cuttin' ice, that it was a 
 narrer escape, an' me so lame wid the rheumatism. I 'm 
 tellin' Mike we 'd orter have thim safety matches that 
 can't burrn at all. Sure, if ye light thim they go right 
 out. (She edges toward the door.) It's wonderful what 
 a lot of colds there is nowadays, an' the weather so chilly 
 it 's hard to cure thim on that account. The baby was 
 out in the rain fer nair an hour yisterday, an' me thinkin' 
 him asleep in his crib, an' to-day he has the shniffles, an' I 
 dunno where he caught thim, fer I 'm careful to keep the 
 window shut tight day an' night, an' blankets on him 
 whiniver he 's asleep. Is your bins layin'? I had gre't 
 luck wid mine this winter. I did n 't feed thim much, com 
 bain' high, an' free of the Leggetts' pullets come 
 under the fince an' laid ivery day in me nest -box. The 
 Leggetts feed thim whate, but I can't afford it wid eggs 
 t'irty-six cints a dozen an' mate so high. Sure I tell Mike 
 we '11 have to become vegetarians unless we live on per- 
 taties arltogether, the way we did in th' ould country. 
 It 's wicked the way the butcher chairges for mate, an' I
 
 Material for Interpretation 197 
 
 haird him say the wholesale butchers was just as wicked. 
 So it 's a wicked lot they are, bad cess to thim ! Sure, 
 I wisht that Mike was in the butcher business to git the 
 prices they git, an' I 'd have him kill our cows, fer they 're 
 so ould it 's blessed little milk we git, an ' the prices I have 
 to pay for rump steak, he 'd git more for them than they 're 
 worth. But he 's no good at makin' money. I tell him 
 if he was a counterfeiter like enough he 'd make such poor 
 money that the law 'd not allow it if they found out. {Opens 
 the door and stands in the doorway.) Well, I must be 
 hurryin', as I know jou 're busy, an' Maggie Cassidy '11 
 want some wan to come out an' hitch the horse, for her 
 man Larry is that afeerd to touch a horse ye might think 
 he had a dread of thim. An' his father was kicked to 
 deaf be a mule, so it 's not that. He 's cautious of t'ings 
 ginerrally, an ' he 'd not be married yit if Maggie had n 't 
 been so anxious to begin housekapin'. An' they didn't 
 kape the house a munt' afther they was married, fer the 
 mortgage got foreclosed an' he had to come an' live wid 
 her folks. He 'd be a handy man for her father, who keeps 
 a livery stable, on'y he 's fearin' horses, so he wanted her 
 father to go in a business where he could help, an' th' ould 
 man would n't, an' so they quarreled, an' th' ould man got 
 the bist of it an' has had to support him ivver since. Well, 
 thank you kindly fer the cranberry pie. There 's IMaggie 
 knockin' fer dare life at m.e door, an' no one to let her in 
 but the baby, and he can't raich the knob. Sure, I must 
 hurry over an' welkim her an' I hope she can stay arl 
 night, but I know she can't, an' it 's lucky, fer me spare 
 room is full of pertaties. Mike had a great crop this 
 year, an' arlmost arl of thim bad. We can't ate more 
 than half of 'em, an' he can't sill thim, but it 's the biggest 
 crop he ever had, an' arl because he used seed pertaties
 
 198 lyialccts for Oral Interpretation 
 
 that come from the gover'mint at Washingt'n. Sure, 'tia 
 a gre't help they are to farmers. 
 
 Well, good-by, an' I '11 make ye an' apple pie in this 
 same plate if you '11 lind me the loan of some greenin's, 
 fer our apples was burrned on the trees whin the Holts' 
 barrn burrned, an' we had baked apples fer a week afther. 
 {She runs out.) Hello, Maggie Cassidy! It 's glad I am 
 to see you, an' whin did you come? 
 
 Charles Battell Loomis. 
 
 THE WIFE LIY BRITHER GOT 
 
 My granda was a quare oul ' sowl ; 
 He 'd say: "Now, William, tarry! 
 Leave girls alone, till I am dead, 
 It 's then that ye can marry." 
 
 I took his biddin', an' he said 
 
 He 'd leave me all his money. 
 
 The people laughed — near split their sides- 
 
 But I seen naethin' funny. 
 
 He died ; I then found why folk laughed. 
 These were his only riches: 
 A wooden leg, a feather bed. 
 An' a pair o' leather britches. 
 
 A wee cracked pot — wi'oot a lug, 
 A jug — wi'oot a handle, 
 A 'baccy box — wi'oot a lid, 
 And half a fardin candle.
 
 Material for Interpretation 199 
 
 An' whin I axed Peg Quinn tae wed, 
 Says she: "Troth, no! I '11 tarry; 
 Ye 've only what your granda left — 
 You 're nae a man tae marry ! ' ' 
 
 An' man alive! 'fore long she wed 
 Wi ' my ain brither Danny ; 
 * ' He 's got a brave wee farm, ' ' says she, 
 "He '11 dae as weel as any." 
 
 Dan comes tae hae a crack odd nights; 
 I laugh till I 'm in stitches ; 
 He grunts an' growls: "I wish tae God 
 I 'd only had your riches ! ' ' 
 
 Padric Gregory. 
 
 THE PRIDE OF ERIN 
 
 So she says, lad, she 'd only take up wid a man 
 Who was wan av the best, faith, the crame of the clan. 
 And the pride av the counthry and salt av the earth ? 
 So she 's leavin' you, lad, not knowin' your worth. 
 And she holds she can 't mate wid a Kerry like you. 
 Since she 's plannin ' to take on wid blood that is blue ! 
 And the Divil go wid her, but could n 't she see 
 You 'd the blood av 'Gorman, Fitzpatrick, Magee ? 
 And the stock that is first in both fightin' and work 
 From the line av 'Brien and Kelly and Burke ? 
 
 —From O'Failey, O'Dailey, O'Reily, O'Neil 
 To O'Connell, O'Cooney, O'Shea and O'Sheil! 
 McCaffray, McCurchy, McCarroll, McCann, 
 All rulers and fighters since fightin' began!
 
 200 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 O'Leary, O'Farrell, O 'Carroll, O'Kane, 
 ^IcCormack, McGurly, McManus, McShane, 
 And Gorman, Fitzpatrick and Fightin' McGirr, 
 And iv"ry last man av thim bctther than her! 
 
 So she says you 're no betther than Irish, me lad, 
 But a counthry-bred, swine-drivin ' f enian, bedad ! 
 The whiffet ! the upshtart ! the meal-fed boothoon ! 
 And could she be tellin', though fed on a spoon, 
 The crame av the world from ould Brian Boru? 
 Faith, how could she h&pe for a Kerry like you? — 
 ^Vith the pride av your sivin ould kings in your veins, 
 TVid your mother 'Toole, and your sire av McShanes? 
 "Wid your ancistry iv'ry wan wearin' his crown. 
 From Rhu and 'Brien to Big Holleran down ! 
 
 —From O'Failey, O'Dailey, O'Reily, O'Neil 
 To O'Connell, O'Cooney, O'Shea and O'SheU! 
 McCaffray, McCurchy, McCarroll, McCun, 
 ]\IcClone and McCoy — and kings iv'ry one! 
 O'Leary, O'Farrell, 'Carroll, O'Kane, 
 McCormack, ]\IcGurly, Mc]\Ianus, McShane, 
 And Tagon O'Regen and Mighty McGlone, 
 The finest av fighters and kings to the bone ! 
 
 Arthur Stringer.
 
 SECTION XII 
 MISCELLANEOUS
 
 SECTION XII 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS 
 
 {See also "Modern Literature for Oral Interpretation," 
 Johnson, page 159, prose.) 
 
 HANS' HENS 
 
 DID I told you aboud my jungest son, yes? He is an 
 immertader. De udder day my oldes' boy who is 
 goin' to be a Padarefski vas knockin' der scales off der 
 biano, an' der secon' son who had been fishin' vas knockin' 
 der scales off a fish, an' so liddle Karl he runs him into der 
 grocery store unt knocks der scales off der counter. 
 
 Ain' dot silly? I shoost made der feerst two boys do 
 dot scales bizziness so dot I could make up dot vun aboud 
 Karl. Und a funny t'ing aboud id iss dot I haven't two 
 udder boys at all. Only shoost Karl, unt he iss my nephew. 
 
 My mudder-in-law she is my aunt. She vas my aunt 
 ven I vas born but she did n't get to be my mudder-in-law 
 ■until I married Katrina. Katrina iss her daughder unt 
 my wife. I vish dot Katrina 's mudder vas only my aunt 
 yet — ain'd id? Dere is someding aboud a mudder-in-law 
 dat ubseds peeble. Shoost to look at Katrina 's mudder 
 you vould t'ink she vas no vairse dan an aunt, but dot iss 
 pecause she neffer vould haf come to liff mit you. Eef I am 
 cross mit Katrina my mudder-in-law always takes Kat- 
 rina 's sides unt makes me sorry she vas not my aunt only, 
 alretty yet. She says dot she objectut to cousins becomin' 
 vifes, unt I say dot I objec' to aunts becomin' mudder- 
 
 203
 
 201 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 in-laws, unt so it goes from vairse to bad until I vish dot 
 Katrina had married out of der family. 
 
 Do uddor day I took my vife unt her mudder to zee 
 Kellar, unt he did zome vondairful tricks, unt at lezt he 
 made der vanishing lady trick. After der show vas over 
 I vent to see Kellar unt asked him if he would take some 
 money avay from me to make my mudder-in-law vanish, 
 unt vot do you suppose he said? Dot he couldn't do id 
 pecause she vas n 't a lady. 
 
 Of course, I see der choke pecause I haff lived in deez 
 coundry t'irty year, unt I know my mudder-in-law, but 
 ven I vent home unt tole Kellar 's funny choke to her she 
 does not at all der point zee. She is so mat unt uses such 
 langwitehes dot I tole her dot if she did n 't look oud she 
 vould spoil der pleasure of her visit mit me, unt dot make 
 her so mat dot she say she vill not sta}^ to be insultit, unt 
 she vent home. So I write to Kellar how mush I owed him, 
 pecause eefen if my mudder-in-law vas not a lady she had 
 vanished. 
 
 I vant to ask you for der remetty for my schickens 
 layin ' so funny. I haf a dozen of schickens, unt a neighbor 
 tells me dot if I don'd vant dem to be stoled I make dem 
 roost high. Unt I ask him how I shall teach dem to roost 
 at all, unt he say, "Get a rooster, unt ven dey see him 
 roost dey vill become roosters, too." But I guess dot iss 
 hiss choke. 
 
 But I make der perches ten feet high unt dot iss all 
 righd ; der hens go up dair unt sit down, but in der morning 
 dey are so high dey are afrait to come down unt so dey 
 lay deir eggs up dere. Dey are splendut schickens unt 
 lay big eggs, better as der groceryman has, but de eggs 
 fall so far dot de yolk run out of der shell der minid dey 
 hit der grount. Now I don't know vot to do. Eight, nine,
 
 Material for Interpretation 205 
 
 ten eggs a day is laid, but dey is all broken ven dey hif der 
 grount. Of course, uff dere vas no gronnt de wouldn't 
 get broke, unt dot giff me an idea. I dell Katrina dot 
 der grount iss too hard unt I ought to get swan's down, 
 unt she say better I get der schickens down. 
 
 But ven nearly sixty eggs iss all smashet on der floor of 
 der hen-house I make up a plan dot is all righd. I buy me 
 tvelff boys' caps for fifty cents abiece und I fastens dem 
 on tvelff poles so dot they come under der hens, unt ven 
 I go oud again dere is an eggs in each cap. Vot iss der 
 use mit prains unless a man uses dem. De reason zome 
 peeble don'd have success mit hens is pecause dey don'd 
 use chudgment. 
 
 But experience has school poys. . De nex' time I buy 
 me some secon'-han' caps, pecause ven I pay me six dollars 
 out for caps to get tvellff eggs it is too much. Unt anyway 
 der hens don'd lay any more pecause dey are sick from 
 livin' on a perch all der vile. I, too, vould get sick from 
 livin' on a perch pecause I hate fish. 
 
 Charles Battell Loomis. 
 
 A RUSTIC SONG 
 
 Oh, I be vun of the useful troibe 
 
 0' rustic volk, I be; 
 
 And writin' gennelmen dii descroibe 
 
 The doin 's o ' such as we : 
 
 I don 't knaw mooch o ' corliflower plants, 
 
 I can't tell 'oes from trowels, 
 
 But 'ear me mix ma consonants, 
 
 An ' moodle oop all ma vowels !
 
 OQQ Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 I talks in a wunnerfiil dialect 
 
 That vew can liunderstand, 
 
 'T is Yorkshire-Zummorzet, I expect, 
 
 With a dash o' the Oirish brand; 
 
 Sometimes a bloomin' flower of speech 
 
 I picks from Cockney spots, 
 
 And when Releegious truths I teach, 
 
 Obsairve ma richt gude Scots ! 
 
 In most of the bukes, 't was once the ^ase 
 
 I 'ad n 't got much to do, 
 
 I blessed the 'eroine's purty face, 
 
 An' I seed the 'ero through; 
 
 But now, I 'm juist a pairsonage! 
 
 A power o' bukes there be 
 
 Which from the start to the very last page 
 
 Entoirely deal with me ! 
 
 The wit or the point o ' what I spakes 
 
 Ye 've got to find if ye can ; 
 
 A wunnerful difference spellin' makes 
 
 In the 'ands of a competent man ! 
 
 I may n 't knaw mooch o ' corliflower plants, 
 
 I may n 't knaw 'oes from trowels, 
 
 But I does ma wark, if my consonants 
 
 Be properly mixed with ma vowels ! 
 
 Anthony C. Decme. 
 
 FOREIGN VIEWS OF THE STATUE 
 
 On the deck of a steamer that came up the Bay, 
 Some garrulous foreigners gathered one day, 
 To vent their opinions on matters and things 
 On this side the Atlantic, in language pedantic. 
 'T was much the same gathering that any ship brings.
 
 Material for Interpretation 207 
 
 "Ah, look!" said the Frenchman, with pride his lips 
 
 curled ; 
 * * See ze Liberte Statue enlighten ze world ! 
 Ze grandest colossal zat evair vas known ! 
 Thus Bartholdi, he speak: 'Vive la France- Amerique ! ' 
 La Belle France make ze statue, and God make ze stone!" 
 
 Said the Scotchman: "Na need o' yer sp'akin' sae free! 
 The thing is na sma, sir, that we canna see. 
 Do ye think that wi 'oot it the folk couldna tell ? 
 Sin ' 't is Liberty 's Statye, I ken na why that ye 
 Did na keep it at hame to enlighten yoursel'!" 
 
 The Englishman gazed through his watch-crystal eye: 
 
 " Ton 'Onor, by Jove, it is too beastly high! 
 
 A monstwosity, weally, too large to be seen ! 
 
 In pwoportion, I say, it 's too lawge for the Bay. 
 
 So much lawger than one we 've at 'ome for the Queen!'* 
 
 An Italian next joined the colloquial scrimmage : 
 "I dress-a my monkey just like-a de image, 
 I call-a 'Bartholdi' — Frenchman got-a spunky — 
 Call-a me 'Macaroni,' lose-a me plendy moany! 
 He break-a my organ and keel-a my monkey ! 
 
 "My-a broder a feesherman; hear-a what he say: 
 No more-a he catch-a de feesh in de Bay. 
 He drop-a de sein — he no get-a de weesh. 
 When he make-a de grab-a, only catch-a de crab-a. 
 De big-a French image scare away all de feesh!" 
 
 "By the home rule!" said Pat; "and is that Libertee? 
 She 's the biggest owld woman that iver I see! 
 Phy don't she sit down? 'T is a shame she 's to stand. 
 But the truth is, Oi 'm towld, that the sthone is too cowld.
 
 208 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 "Would ye nioind the shillalah she howlds in her hand!" 
 Said the Cornishman : ' ' Thaat 's no a shillalah, ye seaamp ! 
 Looiiks to I like Diogenes 'ere wi' is laamp, 
 Searehin' haiird fur a 'onest maan." "Faith that is true," 
 Muttered Pat, ' ' phat ye say, fur he 's lookin ' moi way, 
 And by the same favor don't recognize you!" 
 
 " ]Me no sabee you foleners ; too muchee talkee I 
 
 You no likee Idol, you heap takee walkee. 
 
 Him allee same Chinaman velly big Joshee, 
 
 Him Unclee Sam gal-ee; catch um lain, no umblallee! 
 
 Heap velly big shirtee — me no likee washee ! ' ' 
 
 "Oh!" cried Sambo, amazed, "dat 's de cullud man's Lor'! 
 He 's come back to de earf ; somefin' he 's lookin' for. 
 Alius knowed by de halo surroundin ' he 's brow. 
 Jess you looken dat crown ! Jess you looken dat gown ! 
 Lor' 'a' mussy, I knows I 's a gone nigga now!" 
 
 Said the Yankee: "I 've heerd you discussin' her figger; 
 And I reckon you strangers hain't seen nuthin' bigger. 
 Wall, I hain't much on boastin' but I '11 go my pile: 
 When you furreners cum you '11 find her to hum ! 
 Dew I mean what I say? Wall somewhat — I should 
 smile 1 ' ' 
 
 Fred Emerson Brooks. 
 
 MR. SCHMIDT'S MISTAKE 
 
 I GEEPS me von leetle schtore town Proadway, und does 
 a pooty good peesnis, bud I ton't got mooch gapital to vork 
 mit, so I finds id hard vork to get me oil der gredits vot I 
 vould like. Last veek I hear aboud some goots dot a barty 
 vas going to sell pooty sheap, und so I writes dot man if he
 
 Material for Interpretation 209 
 
 vould gief me der refusal of dose goots for a gouple of 
 days. He gafe me der refusal — dot is, he salt I gouldn't 
 haf dem — but he salt he vould gall on me und see mine 
 schtore, und den if mine schtanding in peesnis vas goot, 
 berhaps ve might do somedings togedder. Veil, I vas 
 behint mine gounter yesterday, ven a shentleraan gomes in 
 und dakes me py der hand und say: "Mr. Schmidt, I 
 pelieve." I say, "Yaw," und den I dinks to mineself, dis 
 vas der man vot has dose goots to sell, und I musd dry to 
 make some goot imbressions mit him, so ve gould do some 
 peesnis. "Dis vas goot schtore," he says, looking roundt. 
 "bud you don't got pooty pig shtock already." I vas 
 avraid to let him know dot I only hat 'bout a tousand 
 toUars vort of goots in der blace, so I says: "You ton't 
 vould dink I hat more as dree tousand tollars in dis leedle 
 schtore, ain't id?" He says: "You don't tole me! Vos 
 dot bossible!" I says: "Yaw." I meant dot id vas hos- 
 sihle, dough id vas n't so, vor I vas like Shorge Vashing- 
 tons ven he cut town der "olt elm" on Poston Gommons 
 mit his leedle hadehet, und gould n't dell some lies about id. 
 "Veil," says der shentleman, "I dinks you ought to 
 know petter as anypody else vot jou haf got in der 
 schtore." Und den he dakes a big book vrom unter his 
 arm and say: "Veil, I poots you town vor dree tousand 
 tollars." I ask him vot he means py "poots me town," 
 und den he says he vas von off der dax-men, or assessors 
 of broperty, und he tank me so kintly, as nefer vos, pe- 
 cause he say I vos sooch an honest Deutscher, und tidn't 
 dry und sheat der gofermants. I dells you vat it vos, I 
 didn't veel any more petter as a hundord ber cent, ven 
 dot man valks oudt of mine schtore, und der nexd dime I 
 makes free mit sdrangers I vinds first deir peesniss oudt. 
 
 Charles F. Adams.
 
 210 
 
 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 THE SPINSTER'S SWEET-ARTS 
 (Lhvcolnshire Dialect) 
 
 I. Milk for my sweet-arts, Bess ! fur it mun be the time 
 
 about noAV 
 When Molly comes in fro' the far-end close wi' her 
 
 paails fro' the cow. 
 Eh! tha be new to the plaace — thou'rt gaapin — 
 
 doesn't tha see. 
 I calls 'em arter the fellers es once was sweet upo' 
 
 me? 
 
 II. Naay to be sewer it be past 'er time. What maakes 
 'er sa laate? 
 Goa to the laane at the back, an' loook thruf Mad- 
 dison's gaate! 
 
 III. Sweet-arts! Molly belike may 'a' lighted tonight 
 
 upo' one. 
 Sweet-arts! thanks to the Lord that I niver not 
 
 listen 'd to noan! 
 So I sits i ' my oan armchair wi ' my oan kettle theere 
 
 o' the hob, 
 An' Tommy the fust, an' Tommy the second, an' 
 
 Steevie an' Rob. 
 
 IV. Rob, coom oop 'ere o' my knee. Thou seest that i' 
 
 spite o' the men 
 I 'a' kep' thruf thick an' thin my two 'oondered 
 
 a-year to mysen ; 
 Yis! thaw tha call'd me es pretty es ony lass i' the 
 
 Shere, 
 An ' thou be es pretty a Tabby ; but Robby , I seed 
 
 thruf ya theere.
 
 Material for Interpretation 211 
 
 V. Feyther 'ud saay I wur ugly as sin, an ' I beant not 
 
 vaain, 
 But I niver wur downright hugly, thaw soon 'ud 'a 
 
 thowt ma plaain, 
 An' I wasn't sa plaain i' pink ribbons, ye said I 
 
 wur pretty i' pinks, 
 An' I liked to 'ear it I did, but I beant sieh a fool 
 
 as ye thinks; 
 Ye was stroiikin ma down wi' the 'air, as I be 
 
 a-stroiikin o' you. 
 But whinever I loook 'd i ' the glass I wur sewer that 
 
 it couldn't be true 
 Niver wur pretty, not I, but ye knaw'd it wur 
 
 pleasant to 'ear. 
 Thaw it war n 't not me es wur pretty, but my two 
 
 'oonderd a-year. . . . 
 
 VI. But, Kobby, I thowt o' tha all the while I wur 
 
 chaangin' my gown. 
 An' I thowt shall I chaange my staate? but, Lord, 
 
 upo' coomin' down — 
 My bran-new carpet es fresh es a midder o' flowers 
 
 i' Maay— 
 "Why 'edn't tha wiped thy shoes? it wur clatted all 
 
 ower wi' claay. 
 An' I could 'a cried ammost, fur t seed that it 
 
 could n't be, 
 An' Robby, I gied tha a raiitin' that sattled thy 
 
 coortin' o' me. 
 An' Molly an' me was agreed, as we was a-cleanin' 
 
 the floor. 
 That a man be a durty thing an' a trouble an' 
 
 plague wi' indoor.
 
 212 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 But I rued it arter a bit, fur I stuck to tha more 
 
 iia the rest, 
 But I couldn't 'a lived wi' a man, an' I knaws it 
 
 to be all fur the best. . . . 
 
 VII. To be border 'd about, an' waaked, when Molly 'd 
 
 put out the light, 
 By a man coomin' in wi' a hiccup at ony hour o' 
 
 the night! 
 An' the taable staain'd wi' 'is aale, an' the mud o' 
 
 'is boots o' the stairs, 
 An' the stink o' 'is pipe i' the 'ouse, an' the mark 
 
 o' 'is 'ead o' the chairs! 
 An' noan o' my four sweet-arts 'ud 'a let ma 'a bed 
 
 my oan waay. 
 So I likes 'em best wi' taails when they 'evn't a 
 
 word to saay. 
 
 VIII. An' I sits i' my oan little parlor an' sarved by oan 
 
 little lass, 
 Wi' my oan little garden outside, an' my oan bed o' 
 
 spari'owgrass, 
 An' my oan door-poorch wi' the woodbine an' 
 
 jessmine a-dressin' it greean. 
 An' my oan fine Jackman i' purple a roabin' the 
 
 'ouse like a Queean. 
 
 IX. An' the little gells bobs to my hoffens es I be abroad 
 i' the laanes, 
 When I goas to coomfut the poor es be down wi' 
 their haaches an ' their paains,
 
 Material for Interpretation 213 
 
 An' a haaf-pot o' jam, or a mossel o' meat when it 
 
 beiint too dear, 
 They maakes me a graater Laady nor 'eer i' the 
 
 mansion theer, 
 Hes 'es hallus to hax of a man how much to spare 
 
 or to spend. 
 An' a spinster I be an' I will be, if soa please God, 
 
 to the hend. . . . 
 
 Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 Arranged by Gertrude Johnson. 
 
 JOHN CHINAMAN'S PROTEST 
 
 Melican man no wantee John Chinaman ally mo'; 
 
 He no slay, "John, you velly good washee." 
 Not muehee; he slay, "John, I wipee flo' 
 "Withee you, if mo ' comee this countlee. ' ' 
 What fo' 
 Melican man 
 No wantee 
 John Chinaman 
 Ally mo'? 
 
 John Chinaman he no gettee dlunk heap 
 
 He mind his own washee, washee, 
 Alle dayee long, and takee sleep. 
 
 Boil watel f o ' — wat you call him ? — hashee ! 
 What fo' 
 Melican man 
 No wantee 
 John Chinaman 
 Ally mo'?
 
 il4 Diaucts fur Oral Interpretation 
 
 John Chinaman he no punehee head much; 
 
 He no, like Melican man, say * ' Helle ' ' 
 He usee sloap, watel, sclubbin '-blush, 
 Ebly dayee to help fillce bellee. 
 What fo' 
 Melican man 
 No wantee 
 John Chinaman 
 Ally mo'? 
 
 John Chinaman he vellee pool man; 
 
 He no have timee to fool away; 
 He workee allee dayee fast he can : 
 He no workee, he no gettee pay. 
 What fo' 
 Melican man 
 No wantee 
 John Chinaman 
 Ally mo'? 
 
 John Chinaman no loafee lound the sleets; 
 
 He workee hald f o ' makee livin ' ; 
 He washee eollals, shirtee, cuifee, sheets; 
 He do no beggin' or no t'iefin. 
 What fo' 
 Melican man 
 No wantee 
 John Chinaman 
 Ally mo'? 
 
 John Chinaman he havee no votes : 
 
 Is that leason why he no wantee here? 
 
 He no go lound 'lection day, and shoutee, 
 Fightee evelybody, smokee cigal, or dlink beer. 
 
 I
 
 Material for Interpretation 215 
 
 What fo' 
 
 Melican man 
 
 No wantee 
 
 John Chinaman 
 
 Ally mo'? 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 A DOG STORY 
 
 Dere vhas a leedle vomans once 
 
 Who keept a leedle shtore, 
 Und had a leedle puppy dog 
 
 Dot shtoodt pefore der door. 
 Und evfery dime der peoples coom 
 He opened vide him's jaw. 
 Schnip ! Schnap ! shoost so, 
 Und bite dem. 
 
 Vun day anoder puppy dog 
 
 Cooms runnin ' down der shtreet, 
 Oudt of Herr Schneider 's sausage-shop, 
 
 Vhere he had shtoled some meat ; 
 Und after him der Schneider man — 
 Der vhind vhas not more fleet. 
 Whir-r-r! Whist! shoost so, 
 Like vinkin ! 
 
 Der leedle voman 's puppy dog 
 
 Vhas lookin' at der fun, 
 He barkit at der Schneider man, 
 
 Und right pefore him run ; 
 Den fell him down, dot Schneider man, 
 Like shooted mit a gun. 
 Bang! Crash! shoost so, 
 Und voorser.
 
 216 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 Der puppy dog dot shtoled der meat, 
 
 Rooii 'd on und got avhay ; 
 Der leedle voman's puppy dog 
 Der Schneider man did slay, 
 Und make him indo sausages — 
 Dot 's vot der peoples say. 
 Chip ! Chop ! shoost so, 
 Und sell him. 
 
 DER MORAL 
 
 Der moral is, don't interfere 
 Vhen droubles is aroundt ; 
 Der man dot 's in der fightin' crowd 
 
 Vhill get hurt I '11 be pound. 
 Mind your own peesness, dot is pest. 
 In life she vhill be found. 
 Yaw! yaw! shoost so, 
 I pet you. 
 
 John Thomas Brown.
 
 SECTION XIII 
 ONE ACT PLAYS IN DIALECT
 
 SECTION XIII 
 ONE ACT PLAYS 
 
 A RAMLET 0' PUCE 
 
 (Characters) 
 
 (Mrs.) Katie Divin, an old countrywoman. 
 (Mrs.) Matty M'Granahan, a younger woman, farmer's 
 mfe. 
 
 (Scene : a roadside in Donegal.) 
 
 (Katie Divin, bareheaded, is seated alone on a stone ditch, 
 knitting. ) 
 
 Katie {soliloquising). Feth now it's quare an' gran' 
 at the rare o' your daj's to be sittin' in the sun forninst 
 your own door, listenin' to your own ould goose cacklin', 
 an ' your own ould pig gruntin ', and to feel the sun shiuin ' 
 on you, as if it was ail your own f orbye, an ' to be watchin ' 
 the corn gettin' yallower and yallower, an' to know for 
 sartin that your ould man 's aff to the Fair o' Carn, an' 
 cannae be back till nightfall ! I declare it thonder 's naw 
 Matty M'Granahan comin' down the mountainy road. I 
 would know the proud step of her a mile aff. I '11 wanit 
 she ,'s been in to Johnny Gallagher 's to buy a dress for 
 Mary Pat's weddin'. {Short pause, then suddenly.) 
 wouldn't it be the tarrible misfortune if she 's tuk the 
 self same ramlet o' puce Annie Cassie 's been hankerin' 
 after this while past {stops knitting). An' it the wan 
 
 219
 
 220 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 bit o' daeeiit stuff in Johnny's shop! An' Annie Cassie 
 jist waitin' till get the hapence out o' IMiekey till buy it! 
 Annie Cassie '11 be fair wild if Matty's taken the fore-road 
 of her. There was niver a good agreement betwixt them 
 two since they were wee cutties.^ But it 's myself would n't 
 like to see Annie Cassie put throughother.^ She 's my own 
 sister 's child that I reared from she was a wean, an' Matty 
 M'Granahan 's no way sih ^ till us, an' has got quare an' 
 concaity since Jamie was made a Poor Law Guardian. 
 "Well here comes herself. I '11 jist keep as quite as a 
 settin' hen. Matty 's as close as a wilk* if ye ax her 
 questions, but she '11 give ye the quare dale o' news if ye 
 niver let on yourself. 
 
 {Enter ]\Iatty M'Granahan wearing honnet trimmed 
 with somewhat gaaidy flowers, hlack cape, and carry- 
 ing market basket or string hag.) 
 
 Matty. Good morra till ye, Katie. Is it jist takin' 
 stock o' the fine evenin' ye are? My! but it 's warrum! 
 {Deposits basket o^i wall and sits down for a gossip.) 
 Dear help them as has to live in the town these days! 
 
 Katie. Ay, the crathurs ! dear help them ! I had a 
 letter from my nevvy-by-marriage that 's in London this 
 ten year an' more, an' he says it 's the warrumest summer 
 he 's ivver knowed, 
 
 I\LvTTY. London's the quare big place. I had a cousin 
 wanst was hired there. What part might your newy be 
 livin' in? 
 
 Katie. I cannae rightly mind the address, but I know 
 it 's somewhere aff the main street. 
 
 Matty {with a scornful laugh). Main street! Katie 
 
 * Girl or lass. 
 'Put in confusion. 
 ' Related. 
 
 * Whelk.
 
 Material for Interpretation 221 
 
 Divin, do ye naw know there 's as many as six or seven 
 main streets in London ? Sure it 's all main streets there ! 
 A body would think you were talkin' about the likes o' 
 Dunkineely; a wheen/ houses stragglin' along the road! 
 
 Katie {bridling). How-an-iver it isnae iverywan can 
 say they 've a newy -by-marriage in London ! But ye 've 
 been in till the town I '11 warn't — by the boots on ye. 
 Woman, dear, did ye travel over the mountains in them 
 things? {painting to Matty's hoots) . What for did ye naw 
 take them aff ye at Lookin' Glass Brae? 
 
 Matty {disdainfully) . Sure it 's only them wans from 
 the back o' the mountain takes aff their booths at Lookin' 
 Glass Brae. I would n't be seen doin' it, so I would n't. 
 
 Katie. Feth ye might be seen doin' worse: When I 
 was your age divil a fut would I travel in the boots. But 
 it 's changed days with us all in Ballycarragh, with wur 
 slate roofs till wur byres, an' wur bonnets till wur heads! 
 Sure the cows giv' jist as good milk under the stra', an' 
 it 's my belief the more ye 've on your head, the less ye 've 
 in it. 
 
 Matty {looking a little taken alack). Well, the 
 fashion 's the fashion. An' it 's your own sister 's daugh- 
 ter Annie Cassie M'Phelimy 's jist as set on the fashion 
 as any wan, so it is, for all she 's married on Long Mickey 
 M'Phelimy, an' has a cartload o' childher, 
 
 Katie. Poor Annie Cassie the crathur! it 's naw much 
 pleasure in life she has; an' if she does get an odd dress 
 now an' again, sure any wan that would be marriet on 
 Long Mickey would need a bit o' divarsion. 
 
 Matty. Now and again! Katie Divin, I 'm wonderin' 
 at ye, so I am. Does Annie Cassie M'Phelimy iver plant 
 feet in the town that she 's naw sittin' in Johnny Gal- 
 lagher's shop the len'th of a day? Sure she knows far 
 
 * Several.
 
 222 Dialicis for Oral Interpretation 
 
 better nor Johnny himself ivery bit o' stuff on them 
 shelves o' his. 
 
 Katie {dgnifimntly) . Maybe there might be wans 
 forbye Annie Cassie wouldn't be above gleekin' '^ round 
 the jamb o' Johnny Gallagher's door, Matty Granahan. 
 
 Matty {angriUj). Only out of needcessity, ir it 's 
 meself ye might be referrin' till, Mrs. Divin. But it 's time 
 I was steppin' {rising and taking up hasket with an air of 
 dudgeon). There 's some folks' tongues is longer nor their 
 tempers, so there is {makes to go off). 
 
 Katie {in casual tone). This is the gran' news about 
 Mary Pat's weddin'. 
 
 Matty {pausing, hut not looking round). Ay, it is that. 
 
 Katie. It 's ould Paddy Doherty '11 be quare an' proud 
 gettin' his daughter married on "rich Thomas." 
 
 I\Iatty {turning slightly and evidently anxious to resume 
 gossip). Ay will he. 
 
 Katie. An' they tell me it 's goin' to be the quare 
 gran' weddin', 
 
 j\Lvtty. Ay now? {edging hack towards Katie). Well, 
 Paddy Doherty has a brave roughness ^ on him. 
 
 Katie. Ay, there was niver no stint wi' paddy. They 
 tell me Mary Pat 's gettin' the quare dandy dress. 
 
 ]\L\tty {eagerly). Did ye hear the kin' o' the dress? 
 I '11 warnt it '11 be wan o' the new-fashioned kind that 
 trips ye when ye travel {approaching still nearer). 
 
 Katie. I '11 warnt. {After a pause, glancing signifi- 
 cantly at ]\L\.tty.) There '11 be more nor Mary Pat gettin' 
 new duds for the weddin'. Johnny Gallagher '11 be settin' 
 out all his fancy stuffs, so he will. 
 
 Matty. Feen a bit o ' decent cloth 's in the shop forbye 
 the bit of a ramlet I brought wi' me. 
 
 * Peeping — furtive. 
 
 "Plenty of this world's goods.
 
 Material for Interpretation 223 
 
 Katie {looking up sharply). A ramlet? then ye 've 
 been in wi' Johnny? 
 
 Matty {depositing hasket on ground mid settling <foiim 
 once more for a thorough gossip). To tell ye the truth, 
 I was jist on my kailye makin' straight for 'Liza Ann 
 M'Fadden's to ax after her leg that was broke when 
 Johnny outs to the door after me. '*Ye '11 be for the 
 weddin'." says he. "I 'm axed," says I. "An' is it 
 passin ' my dacent shop ye are ? ' ' says he. ' ' Sure ye cannae 
 go till a weddin ' in them ould duds. It 's disgracin ' your- 
 self an' Jamie M'Granahan ye '11 be," says he, "and him 
 newly made a Poor Law Guardian. Hould on now till I 
 show ye the purtiest bit o' cloth in the country, a ramlet 
 o' puce, jist the right len'th for a wumman o' your 
 dimansions. Sure I 've been thinkin' o' nothin' an nobody 
 but yourself since I cut it." 
 
 Katie {laying dotvn knitting and glancing at Matty 
 sharply). Puce did ye say? an' a ramlet f 
 
 Matty. Ay, puce. Well, thinks I to myself, I '11 get 
 quet o' ye aisier, my boy, if I jist go in an' pass myself.^ 
 I 'm under no needcessity to take your stuff if it 's naw to 
 my plazement. So in I steps, an' wi' that he leps over the 
 counter — that ye could nae see his heels for the dust he 
 was kickin' up — an' out he brings a real genteel piece o' 
 puce, jist the thing for a weddin'. "An' what would ye 
 be axin' for the ramlet?" says I. "Twelve shillin', it 's 
 double width," says he. "Seein' as I 'm not wantin' it 
 at all," says I, "an' only takin' it till oblige ye, I '11 go the 
 len'th o' ten." "We'll split the differ," says he; an' 
 before I knowed where I was, he rowls it up, an' it 's in 
 my ban'. I tell ye, I niver was as taken aback in my life. 
 
 Katie {musingly). Puce, an' a ramlet! 
 
 Matty {rummaging in lasket). It 's yourself should 
 ^ Get it over.
 
 22i Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 know a decent bit o' cloth, Katie Divin. An' here it is 
 {holding up remnant of purple cloth for Katie's inspec- 
 tion) . 
 
 Katie {peering at it, and then gazing in sorrowfid 
 amuzement at JMatty). An' that 's what ye bought for a 
 weddin'? Martha M'Granahan, I 'm surprised at ye. 
 AVoman, dear, I thought ye had more wit. 
 
 Matty {taken aback). AVhat 's wrong wi' 't? a nice 
 cliver bit o ' cloth as iver ye seen ! 
 
 Katie {mournfidly) . Matty M'Granahan' will ye tell 
 me whose corp ye 're goin ' till wake ? 
 
 Matty. Wake? It 's naw till a wake I 'm goin'. Sure 
 I towld ye it was till Mary Pat's weddin'. 
 
 Katie. Sure ivery wan knows puce is no colour for a 
 weddin'. It 's a kin' o' mournin', so it is. When my 
 brother's wife's half-sister died, Sarah Jane went intil 
 puce. 
 
 Matty. My oh! I niver heerd tell o' the like. Half- 
 mournin' is it? 
 
 Katie. An' what 's more — it would be the onluckiest 
 thing at all till go to a weddin' in half-mournin '. 
 
 Matty {ohvioudy depressed) . Well, lucky or no, I 'm 
 feared I '11 have to stick till 't. {Suddenly brightening.) 
 I '11 tell ye what I '11 do. I '11 rowl it up an' put it past 
 in the spare-room chest o ' drawers, an ' it '11 come in handy 
 in the summer for a Sunday shoot for Jamie. 
 
 Katie. Matty M'Granahan, ye 're talkin' quare an' 
 ignorant! An' Jamie now a Poor Law Guardian! What 
 way would he go to the Boord wearin' a shoot o' puce? 
 Sure they would take their end,^ laughin' at him! 
 
 ]\Iatty. I wisht in my heart I 'd niver laid eyes on 't. 
 You 've put me quare an' out o' concait wi' it. 
 
 Katie {resignedly) . Well, well, if it be to be, it be to 
 »Die.
 
 Material for Interpretation 225 
 
 be. But I 'm feared there '11 some ill-luck happen to Mary 
 Pat. Like enough she '11 die within the year, or "rich 
 Thomas" '11 lose all his money, an' they '11 both end their 
 days in the workhouse. But don 't say I did n 't warn ye. 
 
 Matty (rising). Och them 's ould-fashioned notions o' 
 yours, Katie, about ill-luck. Ill-luck comes to them that 
 does ill, an' good-luck comes to them that does well. But 
 I must be gettin' on. 
 
 Katie (knitting industriously). I always heerd tell 
 that puce makes a body look quare an' yallow in the skin. 
 They say them that wears it looks twicet their age. 
 
 Matty (halting on her step). I niver heerd that afore. 
 (Moves on a step or two, then stops again.) I 'd be lazy ^ 
 to look yallow, for I had aye a brave clear colour o' my 
 own. Many 's the time Jamie used to say I could sport 
 the rid an' w^hite wi' the purtiest girl in the country. 
 
 Katie (drily). I '11 wamt that was when he was 
 coortin'. The men 's quare an' ould-fashioned them times. 
 
 IVIatty. Still an ' for all I would nae like Jamie to think 
 I was lookin' yallow, naw for the value of all the puce 
 dresses in Johnny Gallagher's shop. I declare to ye, Katie 
 Divin, but ye 've put me clane out o' concait wi' the thing. 
 I '11 jist pack it back to Johnny, so I will, an' I '11 get 
 eleven shillin' worth o' stuff for curtains for the room. 
 Now that Jamie 's in a manner o' speakin' a public man 
 we be to have ^ things a bit tastier like. The neighbours 
 expecks it aff us. 
 
 Katie. To be sure they do. Them that 's in the sarvice 
 o' their country can nae affoord till live like or'nar folk. 
 
 Matty. I 'm goin' doen to Derry wi' Jamie on AVednes- 
 day, to hire a cutty at the rabble ; ^ an' I '11 jist have a look 
 
 ^ Slow. 
 
 'We are obliged. 
 
 ' Half-yearly fair.
 
 226 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 round for a nice respectable bit o' dark blue cashmire. 
 An' I 'm thinkin' I '11 lave the bit o' puce wi' you, Katie 
 {taking parcel from basket). Willie John's Davy 's goin' 
 intil the town the morra, an' I '11 tell him to call in for 't 
 Naw, naw, I would n 't for the world Jamie would think I 
 was gettin' ould an' yallow. Jamie 's been the quare good 
 man till me. Here it is; ye '11 keep it safe, Katie, 
 
 Katie. Surely I will — right enough. 
 
 Matty. I 've clean taken the scunner at it, an' that 's 
 the truth. Well, good-bye till ye Katie. (Exit.) 
 
 Katie (soliloquising while she smooths doivn the hit of 
 cloth). Well, well, the crathur'. But it was aisy decaivin' 
 her ! Maybe I done well, an ' maybe I done ill, but anyway 
 I done Annie Cassie a good turn. She 'd ha' been fair 
 leppin' if Matty M'Granahan had taken the fore-road of 
 her. An' sure it '11 be doin' Matty herself a good turn 
 till take the bit o' puce off her hands, an' her scunnered 
 at it! An' it 's doin' Johnny Gallagher a good turn, for 
 he '11 get rid o' the puce an' the curtains forbye. Sure 
 it 's doin' good turns all round I am! Yallow! och, the 
 crathur! the crathur! (rocks to and fro, laughing). My! 
 but the weemen has the quare dale o ' vanity ! An ' it all 
 for the sake o' the men. An' sure the men 's that blinded 
 after they 're marriet the divil a bit they know what ye 're 
 like! If Matty M'Granahan had a haporth o' wit, she 'd 
 know right well that Jamie '11 naw see a bit o' differ on 
 her if the both o' them lives to be a hundher. Well, well, 
 I must go in an' square myself up,^ for that ould man o' 
 mine when he comes back from the Fair. (Begins to 
 titivate a little.) Yallow! och the crathur! but she was 
 aisy decaived! (HolUes off, laughing, with parcel.) 
 
 A. M'Clure Warnock. 
 
 * Primp.
 
 Material for Interpretation 22/ 
 
 THE RIDER OF DREAMS ^ 
 
 Scene: {Night in a roam used for kitchen, dining -roam 
 and laundJry hy a colored fwtiiily. A lamp is set upon 
 a central table laid with a spotless table cloth. Baskets 
 of clothes stand on several chairs. At the hack is a 
 cook-stove and to the left of this a door. There are also 
 doorways at the right and left of the room. Lucy 
 Sparrow, a worn, sweet-faced woman of forty, is 
 sprinkling clothes at an ironing-hoard at left with her 
 back turned to the tahle heside which, on a high stool, 
 is perched a small hoy, Booker Sparrow. Both the hoy 
 and the woman as well as the room show a painstaking 
 neatness despite the disorder necessary in the process 
 of a professional ''wash.") 
 
 Lucy. Who make you? 
 
 Booker. God. Ain't the mush done now? 
 
 Lucy. It 's done but I ain't done wif you. You got to 
 learn good bef o ' you can eat good. Who redeem you ? 
 
 Booker. Christ. I '11 stop being hungry for it if I 
 don't get it now. 
 
 Lucy. Bettah lose youah wishes an' youah ahms an' 
 laigs an' everything youah body 's fix wif an' keep youah 
 immortal soul. Wlio sanctify you? 
 
 Booker. The Holy Ghost. I don't want nothing but 
 mush. 
 
 Lucy. Well, you ain' goin' to git hit twell you luhns 
 de questions. What de chief en' of man? 
 
 ^Reprinted by permission of the author and by special arrange- 
 ment with The Macmillan Company, Publishers. 
 
 For permission to perform this play application must be made 
 to the author in care of the publisher.
 
 228 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 Booker. Chief end of man is to glorify God and enjoy 
 himself for ever. 
 
 Lucy {earning swiftly forward and confronting him with 
 a threatening look). Enjoy hisself! I ain' neveh teach, 
 you dat. You know betteh 'n dat. Man got no right to 
 enjoy hisself. He got to enjoy Gawd. You knows dat as 
 well as you knows eatin'. An' you got to say it an' what 's 
 mo' 3'ou got to live it. Now what de chief en' of man? 
 
 Booker. Enjoy God forever. 
 
 Lucy. Dat 's mo' like it. (She turns her hack and 
 going to the ironing -hoard res'umes her labors, still talk- 
 ing.) I 'm raisin' you fo' de Kingdom an' you 'ah goin' 
 in de Kingdom ef pushin' '11 Ian' you dere. Because 
 dis time anutheh yeah you may be in some lonesome grave- 
 yard. {Singing.) 
 
 In some lonesome graveyard 
 Oh, Lawd, no time to pray. 
 
 {As she sings Booker stealthily slips off his stool and 
 going aroiind to the opposite side of the table takes a spoon 
 with which he approaches a dish set upon a warming-shelf 
 fixed to the stove. He furtively dips his spoon in the dish 
 a/nd begins to eat. Lucy continuing her singing.) 
 
 Play on youah harp, little David, 
 Little Davy, how ole are you ? 
 " I 'm only twelve yeahs ole. ' ' 
 
 {She turns and discovers Booker.) What ! You stealin' ! 
 I '11 show you! {She gives him a cuff and a shake, de- 
 positing him again upon his stool.) You shorely is on de 
 way to de fieh but I 'm goin ' pluck you out ef it skins you 
 alive. Steal, will you? What de sevenf commandment? 
 
 Booker {sniveling). Thou shalt not steal. 
 
 Lucy. See dat. You knows it but you des won't live
 
 Material for Interpretation 229 
 
 hit. Well, I 'm goin' live it into you. I 'm goin' slap sin 
 out of you. {She gives him another shake.) An' de grace 
 into you. Now you say dat commandment sevumty times 
 sevun. Begin, Say it. 
 
 Booker. Thou shalt not steal. Thou shalt not steal — 
 (The door at hack opens and Madison Sparrow stands in 
 the doorway looking on the scene within the room. He is 
 a tall, loose-jointed, lazy-looking man. In one hand he 
 carries a long green hag.) 
 
 Madison {after a survey of the situation). What de 
 boy do ? 
 
 Lucy. He steal, dat what he do. 
 
 Madison. Um. What he steal? 
 
 Lucy. Mush. I tole him not to tech it. 
 
 Madison. Well, he was hongry, were n 't he ? 
 
 Lucy. Dat ain' de p'int. 'T were n't his till I give 
 it to him. 
 
 Madison {places the hag carefully hy the doorway, 
 throws his hat upon it, then seats himself at the tahle). 
 Bring on dat mush. I 'm tia'hd of dese fool doin's. Dey 
 ain't no git ahead wif um. Ef de boy wants mush let him 
 git mush. 
 
 Lucy {placing food before him on the tahle). Yes, but 
 not rob it. 
 
 Madison. Who talkin' 'bout robbin'? 
 
 Lucy. Madison, dat 's de wrong kin' of trash fo' dis 
 baby to heah. Go lay down, honey. Tek de bowl wif you. 
 (Booker whines hut takes a dish and goes to doorway at 
 left.) 
 
 Madison. No, hit 's de right kin' of preachin'. I 'm 
 tia'hd of all dat ol' fashion way of doin'. Ef I wuz to 
 wuk my ahms off dat ol' fashion way I couldn't git no 
 furder. 
 
 Lucy. What you bin wukin' at dis yeah, Madison?
 
 230 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 IM.VDISON. Dat 's it. You know dat I 'm bin lookin' fo' 
 it and could n 't find hit. 
 
 Lucy. What you wuk at last yeah? 
 
 Madison. You knows I wuk in the strippin' factory. 
 
 Lucy. Jes' two weeks. 
 
 Madison. You knows I wuk till I strain my back. But 
 neveh min' about all dat. I done tuhn oveh a new leaf. 
 I goin' to be a business man. I goin' to let de otheh man 
 wuk. 
 
 Lucy. S'posin' everybody w^as to do dat way. 
 
 Madison. Let 'em do hit. I don' ask nothin' of nobody. 
 I goin' to have every toof in my haid covehed wif gol'. 
 I '11 get youah'n an Book's fix dat way too. I goin' to 
 have plenty society grub in me all de time. I ain' goin' 
 to let my fam'ly suffeh. I got too sweet a disposishun fo' 
 dat. I '11 git 'em whateveh I want. 
 
 Booker {lingering in doorway). When you get rich 
 will you get me the guitar, Daddy? 
 
 (Lucy waves Booker through doorway. He vanishes.) 
 
 Madison. I '11 git it an ' I got it. Watch me now. (He 
 goes over to the hag by the door and reaching in it produces 
 a handsome guitar.) Dat 's de beginnin' er good times, 
 boy. 
 
 Lucy {with sickening apprehension). Madison, where 
 you git dat insterment. 
 
 Madison. Dat 's de Lawd's insterment, Lucy. He done 
 pervide it. 
 
 Lucy. Oh, Madison, dat ain' youah'n. 
 
 Maj>ison. 'T is now, honey. 
 
 Lucy. No, youah las' dime you spent Sunday an' I 
 ain' give you no money since. You got it wif out payin' 
 for it. You charged it. 
 
 Malison. Yassah, I got it wif out paying for it an' I
 
 Material for Interpretation 231 
 
 going to keep on a-gettin' it wifout payin' for hit as long 
 as de gittin's good. 
 
 Lucy. How you like to be treat dat way? 
 
 Madison. What way? 
 
 Lucy. If you was keepin' a store, to have folks charge 
 things when dey did n ' know how dey could pay. 
 
 Madison. I 'm willin' fo' to be treat dat way ef dey 
 can do hit. Let 'em come an' git my things if dey finds 
 any. 
 
 Lucy {breaking down). Oh, I cain' stan' hit. Youah 
 sinkin' fas' down to de fiery lake an' you 's pullin' my 
 Baby down too. 
 
 Madison. No, I 's raisin' him up an' I goin' to Ian' 
 us all in a sof ' place on dat Easy Street I heah em singin' 
 'bout so long wifout seein'. 
 
 Lucy {suddenly examining the guitar). Wheah you 
 git dis guitar? 
 
 Madison. What guitar? 
 
 Lucy. Dis. Oh, IMadison, dis is 'Zek'l AVilliams' own 
 guitar dat he would n' sell. Dis is de guitar dat nobody 
 could n' buy. How you come by it? 
 
 Madison. Look heah, woman. You act like I stole de 
 guitar. You don 't think I 'm a thief, do you ? 
 
 Lucy. How you come by hit? 
 
 Madison. I got it off Wilson Byrd. 
 
 Lucy. Dat sueakin' w'ite man. How 'd he git it? 
 
 Madison. I did n ' ask him. 
 
 Lucy. What you give him fo' hit? 
 
 Madison. Oh, dat 's anotheh story. Him an' me 's 
 goin' in business togetheh. 
 
 Lucy. Oh, Madison, dat w'ite man stole dis guitar. 
 Oh, take it back dis minute an' snatch youah soul from 
 de bu'nin'.
 
 QS'i Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 ]\Iadison. Who, me? What you tak' me fo', gal? 
 Take back a guitar to de rich man, de man what own de 
 very house we live in! 
 
 Lucy. Well, we soon will buy it. 
 
 Madison. Dat 's right. We will. But dat ain' de 
 question. I did n git dis guitar fo' to return it, I git it 
 fo' to play it. I boun' to play it cause I 'm goin to be 
 er rich man soon an' I got to have a plenty music in me. 
 
 Lucy. You goin' to git rich playin' guitar? 
 
 ^Madison {laughing comfortably). Eh, yah, yah. 
 Whoopee! No, indeedy. I flies higher dan music flies. 
 I 'm one er dese heah kin er 'lectioneerin' mens which 
 make dere money work fo' um. Dey sen's one dollah 
 out in de heat an' sweats her twell she rolls home wif 
 anutheh. 
 
 Lucy. How you goin ' to put money out, Madison, lessen 
 you wuks an' gits de money? 
 
 Madison {cunningly). Oh, don' yo' botheh youah haid 
 long er dat. I bin down low and folks trample me des 
 same as a wu'm but now I 'm goin' spread my wings an' 
 sting 'em like a king bee. Whaffo' I lay dere an' let'm 
 trample me ? 'T were because I lack conferdence. I puts 
 my 'pen'ance on dis promis', I puts my 'pen'ance on dat, 
 an' dey all fails me. 
 
 Lucy. You ain't neveh put youah trus' in Gawd. 
 
 Madison. Yassuh, I did, an' Gawd He up an' gimme 
 de go-by too. What He bin doin' fo' me? Nuthin'. Now 
 I goin' spit on my ban's an' whu'll in an' trus' myse'f. 
 An' I feels lots betteh. I can feel conferdence wukin' all 
 oveh me. I casts 'em all off. I 'm lookin' out fo' myse'f. 
 M-m-m — It took me long time to git heah but now I 'm 
 heah let 'em look out for me. {His voice rises to a chant.) 
 
 j\I-m-m — Midnight on de sea. All de lights out. I 'm
 
 Material for Interpretation 233 
 
 carry in' hod en Jacob' Jaddeh to build me a new house 
 an' I 'm buildin' it high, man. Don' tech me. I 'm a flame 
 of fieh an' I '11 singe you sho'. If dey asks fo' me tell 'em 
 say, "I saw somethin' sailin' up but he was headin' fo' a 
 high hill on de sun an' my eyes failed me." Tell 'em say, 
 "He had de fo' win's runnin' like stallions to fetch up 
 wif him but dey carried 'em out, an' buried 'em in the 
 valley. He bus' dere hea'ts!" Tell 'em say, "He was 
 herdin' lightnin's like sheep an' dey wuz too slow an' he 
 picked 'em up an' sheared 'em an' sent 'em home." 
 
 Dat 's me, I 'm de one you '11 be talkin' 'bout. For 
 why? 'Cause I cas' off ever 'thing an' I puts my trus* 
 in myself an' nuthin' can't hole me. De mo' I says it 
 de mo' I feels conferdence. I feels it a-wukin'. 
 
 Lucy, You goin' to wuk, Madison? 
 
 Madison. Yes, indeedy. I got to wuk' an' wuk ha'd. 
 I can't shirk none. 
 
 Lucy. What wuk you goin ' to do ? 
 
 Madison. I 'm a stock brokin' man. I goin' into de 
 stock brokin' business tomorrer. 
 
 Lucy. How ? 
 
 Madison. Buyin' an' sellin', dat 's how an' which too. 
 
 Lucy. De Devil 's wrastlin' wif you, Madison, an' 
 you 's perishin' fas'. Ef you keeps on in dis paf you '11 
 Ian' mongs' de rocks er mournin'. You let somebody 
 tu'n you roun'. 
 
 Madison. Not me. Nobody can't tu'n me roun'. I 
 dreamed it an' I dreamed it right, face fo'mos' an' on de 
 run, 
 
 Lucy. How dream? 
 
 Madison. Las' night an' day befo' yistiddy night an' 
 night befo' dat. I \\uz layin' groanin', "0 Lawd, how 
 long," an' I heah a voice say, "Git up an' come
 
 234 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 a-runnin'." Looks up an sees a fine w'ite saddle boss. 
 Hoss say, 
 
 "Ride me right an' I '11 guide you right." 
 
 On I gits an' off he goes, slick as a rancid transom car. 
 Comes to high hill lookin' down on de sun an' moon. 
 Hoss stop an' say, 
 
 "Brung you heah to give you noos 
 De worl' is youahn to pick an' choose." 
 
 I ax him "How dat?" Hoss say: 
 
 ' ' How is how an ' why is why, 
 Buy low an' sell high." 
 
 I say to him, "I got no money to buy. Wheah I goin' 
 git de fun's to buy low?" Hoss respon': 
 
 ' ' Trus ' yo 'se 'f an ' take youah own, 
 Git de meat an' leave de bone. 
 Bus' de nut an' fling 'em de shell, 
 Ride an' let em walk a spell, 
 Findeh's keepeh's, loseh's weepeh's, 
 I hope dese few lines finds you well." 
 
 I ax him who tole him all dis an ' hoss say : 
 
 "Ole hoss Grab will nevah balk. 
 All dis heah is w'ite man talk." 
 
 Dat what de hoss say to me in my true dream ev'y night 
 dis week an' I 'm a-goin' to bide by hit twell de las' er 
 pea time. 'Cause I 'm er true dreameh an' my mammy 
 she wuz befo ' me. 
 
 Lucy. "What come of de hoss in de dream, Madison?
 
 Material for Interpretation 235 
 
 Madison. Dat 's all. Hoss went up in smoke an' I come 
 down in bed. 
 
 Lucy. Hoss went up in smoke ! No, hit went down in 
 smoke an' fiah. 
 
 Madison. Now look-a lieah, woman. I 'm goin' to make 
 you a good livin' f 'um now on. I 'm goin' into business 
 termorrer. I 'm goin' in de specalatin' wu'k. I 'm goin' 
 to buy low an' sell high. 
 
 Lucy. What kin you buy wif? You got no money. 
 
 Madison {hesitating hut collecting Ms forces gradually). 
 Oh, ain 't I tell you 'bout dat ? I got it in de dream. 
 
 Lucy. In de dream? 
 
 MiiDisoN. Um hmmm. You know dat hoss I tole you 
 'bout. Well'm 'jes' fo' we pa 'ted he prance up th'ough 
 a starry fiel' an' come to a gyarden fence. Oveh dat fence 
 ie lep an', man, she was a fine gyarden. "Whose patch 
 dish yer?" I say to him. Hoss say: 
 
 "If you asks me grab what you see." 
 
 Den he reaches down an' pulls up a tu'nip wif his teef 
 an' gives it to me an' say, 
 
 * ' Dis gyarden truck will fetch you luck. ' ' 
 
 (He watches Lucy furtively.) An' I takes an' sta'ts to 
 peel dis tu'nip an' what does I find? I find she 's a fine 
 fat roll er bills, dem tu'nip tops is greenbacks. 
 
 Lucy. So youah money is dream money? 
 
 Madison. Well, no, not ezackly. De hoss whispeh 
 sumpin' in my eah an' told me how to make dat dream 
 money real money. An' I took de hint an' done it today. 
 An' on dat money I '11 buy low an' gouge 'em all good. 
 
 Lucy. How much you got?
 
 £36 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 I\Iadison. Well'm — {He hesitates.) I got a little an' 
 den some. I got erbout — fifty er so. 
 
 Lucy. "Wlieah you git it? {She catches hold of him.) 
 
 ]\Iadison. Tu'n me loose, woman. I goin' to baid. I 
 got to make early sta't. {He pulls off his coat.) 
 
 Lucy {ivildhj). I ain' goin' to let you stay in sin. {She 
 snatches the coat from him.) I goin' take dis money an' 
 make you say wheah you got it. 
 
 {She hegi7i3 hastily searching through the pockets of the 
 coat.) 
 
 Madison {calmly regarding her with great good humor 
 and hreaking into a laugh as she fails in her search) . Eh, 
 yah, yah, sea 'eh an' look, sea'ch an' look. 
 
 Lucy. Oh, Madison, ain' you' got no honin' ter be 
 hones' at all? 
 
 IMadison. Hones'! "What kin' er fool talk is dat? I 
 done got my ear-string bus' now an' dem preachah wu'ds 
 can't fool me no mo'. You '11 neveh fin' it, honey. 'Cause 
 why? 'Cause I 'm got it in my pants an' I goin' to keep 
 it f 'um a foolish woman. 
 
 Lucy {running to him desperately). You got to give 
 it to me. 
 
 Madison. Gal, if you don' tu'n me loose I '11 git ugly. 
 Now, look heah. I wants to heah de las' er dis. I got 
 new ideahs. I got big plots en plans. I done give you de 
 plankses in my platfo'm an' I 'm a-goin' to stan' on hit. 
 When I makes a lot mo' money in de broker business I 'm 
 a-goin' to give you all de gold youah ap'un '11 hold, ev'y 
 day er youah life, an' you won' have to wait long. But 
 till dat day an' to dat time I 'm de treasu'eh er dis lodge 
 an' I 'm de stake holdeh er dis race an' dat money stays 
 in de pu'se in de hip or my ol' jeanses. {He says this last 
 slowly and with growing emphasis and as he ends, gives
 
 Material for Interpretation 237 
 
 himself a resounding whack on the hip over his pocket. 
 There is a moment's pause. He puts his hand hurriedly 
 in the pocket and then dazedly into one on the other hip.) 
 What dis? Wheah dat roll? 
 
 Lucy {fearfully). I ain't tech it. You know I ain* 
 ben neah you. 
 
 Madison {rushing to her). Gimme de coat. 
 
 {He §natches the coat amd begins going through the 
 pockets, from time to time searching and slapping the 
 garments he is wearing.) Didn't you git it? You mus' 
 er tuk it. 
 
 Lucy. No, Madison, I ain ' see nor tech it. You watched 
 me. 
 
 Madison, Oh, Lawd, he'p me look. 
 
 {He begins to run around the room, looking on the table, 
 picking up articles and letting them fall, dropping on his 
 knees and hunting under the table and chairs. As he 
 searches he grows more frantic.) 
 
 Oh, my Lawd, oh, wheah is it? I got to have it. Oh, 
 I could n' lose it, hit ain' mine ter lose. Stay by me, 
 Lucy, an ' he 'p me fin ' it ; git down on youah knees, Lucy. 
 Oh, wheah did I drop it? I 'm gittin' old an' needs it. 
 Ef I lose dis I lose all my push. I was jes' goin' into 
 business an' we all wuz goin' to fly high. I got to fin' 
 it. I ain' give up. Lemme think. Oh, I hopes some 
 hones' puson foun' it. Lemme come on down — Know I 
 put it on dat side 'cause dat de side Mistah Long he wuz on 
 — Oh, I '11 go crazy — {He strikes his forehead, groaning.) 
 
 Lucy {starting). Mistah Long! He 's cashiah in de 
 Dime Savin 's ! How he give you money ? 
 
 Madison. Oh, lemme see — he gimme de money an' put 
 it right in yere. {He fumUes again distractedly in his 
 pocket.)
 
 '288 D'lah-cts for Oral Interpretation 
 
 Li'CY {pursuing him desperately). Onliest money at 
 de Dime Savin 's is de money. You could n 't draw hit out. 
 You didn' do dat, — you could n' — Tell me if you did fo' 
 I '11 fin' it out tomorrer — Oh, tell me true — you could n' 
 wlien it 's in my name — tell me now fo' I '11 find it out. 
 
 IMadison. Oh, I can't stand it. 
 
 Lucy. Ef you wan' me to he'p you den be free wif me. 
 How you draw money from de Bank? I give you no 
 papeh. You could n' draw de money. 
 
 Madison. Wilson Byrd, he gimme de papeh. 
 
 Lucy. I give him no papeh. 
 
 Madison. He write it fo' you. 
 
 Lucy. Oh, Gawd, dat w'ite man write my name. You 
 drawed de money — I see it now. You had dealin's wif a 
 fo'geh, Wilson Byrd. 
 
 ]\Lu)isoN. Spar' me an' he'p me. He tol' me ef I draw 
 de money he 'd take me into business wif him an' gimme 
 de guitar besides. 
 
 Lucy. Did you spar' me? Fifty dollahs! You said 
 fifty, didn' you? How could you do hit? Moren' six 
 months' ha'd slavin'. Six months mo' befo' I can resto' 
 it back. I could 'a' bought de house tomorrer mo'nin' an' 
 now hit 's six months off to pay in dat fifty. It was fifty, 
 did n' you say? Maybe 'twuzzn' dat much. Tell me right. 
 I '11 fin' it out tomorrer. 
 
 Madison. Dis yere '11 kill me ef I can't think. 
 
 Lucy. How much you draw? Tell me right. Look 
 at me. Were hit fifty? {She holds his eye.) Less? Mo'? 
 How much? {She continues to hold his lustreless eyes, 
 reading them.) A hunde'd? Two hunde'd? Eight 
 hunde'd? {A pause ensues as she reads the truth in his 
 face.) All of hit. {She sinks in a chair.) Twelve yeahs' 
 labor sence I married you an' termorrer I wuz goin' to
 
 Material for Interpretation 239 
 
 mek de payment an' we 'd a bin undeli owah own loof. 
 I 'm done. I could a paid off pa't, mebbe fifty, but I won' 
 las' twelve yeahs mo' at de same thing. But I thank Thee, 
 Lawd, dat it wuz stole f 'um us all ef hit had to be stole. 
 
 Madison. Ef I could on'y think. Had hit in de bank 
 — felt hit an' had it on Thu'd Street— slapped hit an' had 
 it at Joe's house — slapped hit an' had it coming up de 
 alley — jes' fo' I clum de hill — lemme see — clum de hill — 
 went in th'oo Wilson Byrd's hedge fence — he gimme de 
 guitar — scrape my back comin' out — {His face shows 
 gradual recollection, and suddenly brightens.) I knows 
 now! Dat 's hit! In dat white man's yard where he 
 gimme de guitar! I wuz jes' goin' to give him de money 
 when somebody grabbed him f'um behin'. He give a 
 squawk an' skeered me. I run out th'oo his hedge fence 
 an' scrape my back. 1 scrape de pocketbook out. She's 
 dere ! In dat Wilson Byrd 's yard. I '11 git it yit. Watch 
 me. {He grabs his hat and runs excitedly toward the 
 door. ) 
 
 Lucy {rushing toward him). No, sumpin' might hap- 
 pen. You might git mix up wif him ergin. Lemme go, 
 but I mus' resto' dis guitar at Uncle Williams' as I go 
 by his house. I '11 slip it on his porch. Maybe he '11 neveh 
 know it wuz gone. Oh, if somebody had seen it heah! 
 How could I have stood it? 
 
 {She puts on a shawl and takes up the bag, but as she 
 la/ys her hand on the door-knob a loud knock is heard on 
 the door. Both start back and wait. The knock is re- 
 peated. She throws off the shawl, places the bag in a 
 corner, and returning to the door, opens it. She greets 
 the visitor in a strained voice, almost with a shriek.) 
 
 Uncle Williams! Step in, please. 
 
 {A man enters. The neivcomer is old, with white hair
 
 2-1.0 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 and heard. He is probably of Moorish descent. He is 
 so synall and weazened as to be almost a dwarf, but his 
 whole demeanor indicates great latent power. A strong 
 personality, dominating the two others from the first 
 iiistant.) 
 
 Williams. Good evenin', Lucy. 
 
 {He seems to he unaware of the presence of Madison. 
 He comes forward with little mincing steps and an old 
 man's gesture, then takes off his hat and sees about him. 
 The others stand watching him tramsfixed.) 
 
 Ain' you go in' shut de do', Lucy? I feels draf 's. I 'm 
 gittin' old an' catches cold easy. Ain' you goin' take 
 my hat? {She reaches for it mechamcaUy, watching him 
 apprehensively.) No, de hat — not de stick — ol' pu'son 
 like me always need good stout stick er club case er havin' 
 faintin' spell — ^sumpin' to lean on. Now, wheah a cheer, 
 better fetch me er cheer fo' feah I might set on sumpin' 
 you wouldn't choose fo' me. {She obeys dumbly and 
 brings a chair to him.) Set it neareh. Dat 's right. Now 
 gimme youah shouldeh an' ease me down. Ah — {He leans 
 heavily on her and sinks totteringly into the chair wnth 
 a great show of feebleness.) Now take a cheer yo'se'f. 
 I 'sprize to see a lady standin' an' me takin' ray res', old 
 ez I is. {She obeys, watching him with doubt and dread.) 
 Set it dah, wheah I can see you good. (Madison is stand- 
 iyig up by the wall, right, gazing at him as though 
 paralyzed with fear.) Dah now. We kin be ca'm and 
 have a nice talk. Does you know what business I come 
 yere fo' tonight? {He pauses.) You does, doesn't you? 
 
 Lucy {ahnost beside herself with nervous tension). 
 You — come to see — ef — {Recovering herself with a mighty 
 effort.) Oh, yes, you come to look oveh de stove an' see 
 ef you like to buy hit.
 
 Material for Interpretation 241 
 
 Williams (musingly). M-m. Well, I reckon— dat 's 
 hit. Yes, dey tells me y'all has a wahmin' stove to sell 
 an' now katydid cease, fros' ain' fur off, an' I needs hit. 
 Is dish yere de one? 
 
 Lucy (rising and rushing toward door at side). No, 
 not dat. Hit 's outside — ef you please to step out. 
 
 Williams. Well 'm, I '11 take 'n look her oveh. (She 
 hastily lights a ca^idle as he rises and totters in the wrong 
 direction. ) 
 
 Lucy. Th'oo heah, th'oo heah. De stove 's out in de 
 woodshed. (She grasps and guides him.) 
 
 Williams. Ah — well'm. Um hm. I always gives 
 things er good lookin' oveh befo' takin' stock in 'm. You 
 needn' come erlong. I lived so long in dis house befo' 
 you wuz bawn dat I knows my way. Is de stove an easy 
 wood eateh? 
 
 Lucy. Yes, yes. (She gives him the candle and almost 
 pushes him through doorway at side as she follows him 
 out. Madison, who has watched fearfully from a dark 
 corner, darts forward and looks after them, listening. He 
 then runs toward the door at hack hut hesitates hefore it 
 and turns as Lucy comes swiftly in from outer room, clos- 
 ing the door softly.) 
 
 Madison. What he say? Do he know? 
 
 Lucy (desperately seizing the hag and pressing it into 
 his hands as she turns him again toward doorway at hack). 
 Oh, I cain' tell. On'y resto' dis in case he don' know er 
 case he do. Now 's de one chance to be hones'. 
 
 Madison. Huh. What erbout dat eight hundord dollah ? 
 
 Lucy. I don' know. Trus' Gawd an' be hones'. 
 
 Madison. Huh uh. One of us has got to go look fo' dat 
 money. 
 
 Lucy. One of us has got to take back de guitar.
 
 242 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 Madison. I 'm goin' fo' de money. 
 
 Lucy. Den I '11 take dis. {She takes up the guitar and 
 she and Madison go toward door at hack. Then she halts.) 
 Oh, Madison, you can do bofe. One of us has got to stay 
 wif Uncle Williams. But take back de guitar first. 
 
 IMadison. All right. I '11 go. An' I ain't played on 
 dis heah but twice. {He takes the guitar from her.) 
 
 Lucy. Go now. Can you fin' youah way to his porch 
 in de dahk? 
 
 Madison. Will we find de money? Dat 's de p'oblem 
 I wants de anseh fo'. 
 
 (Lucy opens door at hack to go out. Madison is at her 
 side. Both start hack. Williams stands hefore them in 
 the open doorway.) 
 
 Lucy {haltingly, after a pause). How — you like — de 
 stove ? 
 
 Williams {entering more vigorously than hefore). 
 Well'm befo' we goes any furder we betteh come neareh 
 de real p'int and question. I didn't come fo' no stove 
 dis night. (Madison shrinks hack into the shadows.) 
 
 Lucy {slowly). Yo' — don' — wan' — 
 
 Williams. No'm. To be sho', I might tek de stove 
 one er dese days, but dat ain' my erran' now. Hit 's dis; 
 does you know when we mek de bargum about you buying 
 dis heah house? 
 
 Lucy. Twelve yeah ago. 
 
 Williams. Gal, you dreamin'! 'T were n't but las' 
 year. 'T were de fus' er Octobah las' year an' I say I 
 gives you de refusals for one yeah. 'Membeh dat? 
 
 Lucy. Yassuh. 
 
 Williams. So fur so good. Now does you know what 
 day de month dis is? 
 
 Lucy. Fus' er Octobah.
 
 Material for Interpretation 243 
 
 Williams. Dat 's true as preachin'. Well'm, time's up. 
 
 Lucy. What you mean ? 
 
 Williams. I 'm er man er my wuhd. Pay me de money 
 an' tek de house. 
 
 Lucy. Termorrer — 
 
 Williams. No. Termorrer won ' do. 
 
 Lucy. Why you push me so? Oh, please spar' me an' 
 wait — wait anutheh day. 
 
 Williams. No, I 'm er business man. I kin sell de 
 house fer mo' money termorrer but I hold's to my wuhd 
 ter sell it to you. I holds to it an' loses money, but it 
 falls due dis day an' night an' I won' stretch it one jump 
 er my hea't. 
 
 Lucy. You know — de bank — ain't open — 
 
 Williams. Sign de check fer hit. You kin do dat, 
 cain 't you ? 
 
 Lucy. I — s'pose — I — kin. 
 
 Williams. Den up an' do hit. Heah's er check, all 
 wrote out but de signin'. {She takes the check he pro- 
 duces.) An' heah 's one er dese fountum pins. {She takes 
 the pen.) Octobeh fus' — pay to Zek'l Williams — eight 
 hunderd dollahs. Des write "Lucy Sparrow." {She 
 mechanically turns to do so.) Looks easy, sho'. But de 
 law allows hit; dis writin' out money. {lie pauses, then 
 adds impressively.) Dat is, ef you got de money in de 
 bank. Co 'se ef de money ain ' dah an ' you. writes de cheek 
 fer hit de law puts you in State prism. {She stops and 
 stares at him. The pen falls from her hand and the check 
 flutters to the floor.) What de matteh? You wants de 
 house, don' you? (Lucy's head sinks.) An' you got de 
 money, ain' you? 
 
 Madison. Dat 's de question. {He copies forward out 
 of the shadow.)
 
 gi-t Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 AViLLiAM {seemingly observing Madison for the first 
 time during the evening). Why, heighyo, Madison. I bin 
 lookin' fer you dis very evenin'. Whah you bin? 
 
 Madison. Bin home. 
 
 Williams. Sho'ly not, Madison, sho'ly not all evenin'? 
 Has you? 
 
 Madison. Yes. 
 
 Williams. Well, ain' dat de whu'lygig? I wuz lookin' 
 fer you at Pratt's sto' at eight o'clock an' day say you 
 jes' lef ' dah. You wuz dah, were n't you? 
 
 IMadison. No, suh. 
 
 Williams. Well, dere I am fool agin. An' who you 
 think done fool me? 
 
 Madison. Dunno. 
 
 Williams. Well suh, 'twere n't no one but — {He 
 pauses a moment.) Wilson Byrd. 
 
 Lucy. Byrd! {Springing to her feet with the shock.) 
 
 Williams {after watching the two a moment). So you 
 ain' got de money no mo', is you? {They are speechless 
 before him.) I knows you ain' ca'se I knows who has 
 got hit. 
 
 Madison {involuntarily). Who? 
 
 Williams. I has. {He observes them and then chuckles 
 softly.) I has de money an' de bargum 's closed, fer de 
 goods is bin delivered an' dey 're right in dis room in dat 
 corner. One guitar at eight hunderd dollahs. Insterments 
 comes higher 'n what dey did once but you would have it 
 an' now you got it an' everybody 's fixed. 
 
 Madison {groaning and bending over the table). Oh! 
 
 Williams. Yassuh, de man what buys guitars at dat 
 price su'tinly plaj^s on de golden strings. Eight hunderd 
 fer one guitar makes 'm mighty near twenty thousand 
 dollehs er dozen. De cos' er livin' is shore gone up but 
 ef you mus' you mus'.
 
 Material for Interpretation 24.5 
 
 Madison. Oh ! 
 
 Williams. Well, I cain' stay heah, I got er be amblin' 
 on. I much erblige ter you to mek youah plans to move 
 out er heah fo' I got ter sell de house befo' sundown. 
 Well, so long, an' I hopes you gits all de good er youah 
 high price music. {He turns again with his feeble old 
 man's step toward the do&rway, putting on his hat.) I 
 wish y ' all good evenin '. 
 
 Madison {moving toward him with the threatening de- 
 termination of despair). Say, I 've got to have dat money. 
 I sees red. I 'm gone bad an' I '11 kill befo' I '11 lose hit. 
 
 (Williams suddenly turns with a swiftyiess and agility 
 astounding in so old a man. Starting forward he confronts 
 Madison with such dominance and fire that he seems 
 suddenly to tower.) 
 
 Williams. You kill me! You tek money away from 
 me! Why, you po' grain er chaff, you don' know me. 
 I 'm a king in my own right. I got ways an' means er 
 pertecktin' myse'f dat you don' even dream on an' I don' 
 need to lay a fingeh on you to do hit. Furdermo' I could 
 brain you wif dis stick but ef you cross me I won' be dat 
 easy on you. Ef you don' wan wuss'n dat don' cross me 
 no furder er youah troubles '11 begin fer fa'r. 
 
 Lucy. Oh, please don' lay nothin' on him. 
 
 Williams. You po' sufferin' gal, I won' lay nothin' 
 onto 'im but I 'm to tek sumpin off'n you. I 'm goin' 
 tek de burding er dish yere pack er laziness off'n you. 
 An' fus' I wants ter show you dish yere piece er papch. 
 {He produces a folded document and opens it.) Does you 
 know who wrote it? Answeh me. {He shoves the paper 
 under Madison's eye.) 
 
 Madison. It looks like dat Wilson Byrd's writin'. 
 
 Williams. Yassuh, an' what 's mo' it is dat man's 
 writin'. It 's his confession dat he fo'ge Lucy Sparrow's
 
 2J6 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 name. I saw dat man steal my ^itar an' follered him 
 home. Dah I grabbed him, dah I foun' de purse wif 
 Lucy's name inside an' dah I made dat thief write out 
 his confession. Knowed so much of his meanness already 
 dat he had to do hit. An' now I owns you. Does you 
 undehstan' dat? Answeh me, 
 
 BIadison. Yas suh, no suh. 
 
 Williams. Well, I '11 take 'n cl'ar up de myst'ry fer 
 you. I got dis confession outer Byrd an' got other things 
 ter prove hit an' I kin bring him an' you too, bofe befo' 
 de gran' jury. 
 
 Lucy. Oh, my sweet Jesus, save him. (The old man 
 stands watching the two before him for some time in silence. 
 Lucy falls on her knees befare him.) Oh, don't sen' 
 ]\Iadison to de lawyers. 
 
 Williams. No, Lucy, I ain't wishful ter. 
 
 Lucy. You won't? 
 
 Williams. Mebbe not. But fus', les' put all dis talk 
 aside dat I bin talkin' up to now. I bin puttin' on an' 
 pretendin' in ordeh ter try you bofe an' sif ' de chaff from 
 grain in you. I des bin playin' wif you ter see how good 
 you is an ' how ornry dish yere man er youahn is. Yit I '11 
 take an' give him er chance even so, an' I '11 pluck him f 'um 
 he bu'nin' ef he f oilers de paf I p'ints out ter him. But 
 we all got ter have cl'ar unde 'stan 'in ' 'bout dat. Fus' an' 
 fo'mos' youah money is all safe wif me. De house is 
 youah'n. 
 
 Lucy. You means you sell it fer de money. 
 
 Williams. In co'se. You didn't speck I 'd steal, too, 
 like a w'ite man, did you? I '11 fetch you de deeds fo' hit 
 fus' thing in de mo'nin', 
 
 Lucy. Oh, fu 'give me, I was all mix up. But you won' 
 sen' Madison to de gran' jury neitheh?
 
 Material for Interpretation 247 
 
 Williams, I say I ain' honin' ter. 
 
 Lucy. Oh, my Makeh, I thank Thee fo' Thy mercy. 
 
 Williams. But I shorely goin' to put dis man er 
 youah'n th'oo er tes' ter see whetheh he 's fitten ter keep 
 out er jail. Madison, will tek er tes'? 
 
 Madison {humbly). Yassuh. What is it? 
 
 Williams. A guitar. 
 
 Madison. A guitar! 
 
 WiLUAMS. Yassuh, dat 's hit, no mo' ner no less. I 'm 
 goin ' give you dat guitar — but — dere 's suhtinly goin ' to 
 be a string tied to it. You kin take dat guitar, but you got 
 to make somethin' outer yourself wif her or back she '11 
 come to me. You kin give lessons an' learn folks music or 
 you kin write down de music you make, but you got to do 
 somethin' wif it fer Lucy. You got to wake up or I '11 take 
 de guitar. Which '11 it be? Make youah choice. 
 
 Madison (crushed). I '11 — keep de guitar. 
 
 Williams, An' dat ain' all. You got ter quit runnin' 
 wif Bj-rd an' Byrd wif you, you got ter be a better husban' 
 an' you got to min' everything Lucy tells you. Will you 
 do hit ? 
 
 Madison. Yassuh. 
 
 Williams. An' you ain' much of er temp'unce man 
 neitheh, is you, Madison? 
 
 Madison. I's a temp'unce man but I ain' no frantic. 
 
 Williams, Well, suh, you got ter jine dc frantics now. 
 No dram drinking at all. Will you quit hit er go ter jail? 
 
 Madison. I '11 quit. 
 
 Williams. Well, dat 's on'y a promise but I '11 shore 
 hoi' you to hit er put you behin' de bahs. Why, look heah, 
 man, does you know how you stan' pon top er dis yu'th? 
 Does you know how you liken to er tree ? S 'posin ' sum pin ' 
 ■wif er cool eye like er tree could see you an talk. I caiu'
 
 248 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 jedge you ca'm but er tree could. Tree would look at you 
 and say, "Does dat 'ere man wu'k?" Win' 'ud whispeh, 
 "No." "Do he eat?" "Yas 'n git fat," respon' de win'. 
 "Who shines on him?" "His wife," win' say. "Do he 
 put fo'th flower an' bless de wife?" say de tree. "No," 
 "Do he give shade an' shelteh ter de wife?" say de tree. 
 "No." Well, chop 'm down an' bu'n him befo' he rots," 
 say de tree. "Dat 's all." But mebby I kin mek mo' of 
 him dan dat an' so I '11 try prunin' him an' graftin' some 
 good labeh onto him. An' I kin' er think hit '11 sabe him 
 yit. Well'm, I must be er goin' now. Hit 's late an' I must 
 git my res' fer I got to do a lot er bossin' termorrer an' 
 dat 's allers ha'd fer me. Lucy, I '11 fetch you de deeds ter 
 de house befo' nine termorrer an' Madison, you kin repo't 
 to me at eight o'clock sha'p an' give my little boy a lesson 
 on de guitar. You 11 be dah, won't you? 
 
 Madison (meekly). Yassuh. 
 
 Williams. Ready to whu'l in an' scratch. 
 
 Madison. Yassuh. 
 
 W^iLLiAMS. Well, den, les' all shek ban's on de noo nes' 
 an' de noo aig. (They shake hands. He puts on his hat 
 and turns to the door.) 
 
 An' dat remin's me, Lucy, you better tell Madison to 
 play on dat guitar a plenty tonight because he '11 need music 
 fer to Stan' up undeh all de lessons I 'm goin' to lay onto 
 him. Well, I wish you good night. I'm er gittin' kin'er 
 ole an' I cain' stay up late no mo' without bein' Grosser in 
 demornin'. Good night den an' far' you well bofe. Eight 
 o'clock, Madison. Good night. (He goes, closing the door 
 after him. The pair stand silent for a moment, Madison 
 vnth hanging head and in deep dejection.)* 
 
 Lucy (throwing her arms around him). Oh, my hus- 
 ban', I '11 pray fer you. Don' sorrer now. Git youah res'
 
 Material for Interpretation 249 
 
 tonight. We kin be hones' now. We 've got de house at 
 las' an heah's de guitar. 
 
 Madison. Yassuh, heah's de guitar. {Ee plays it and 
 fondles it. Then hisi face assumes again its melancholy 
 look.) 
 
 Lucy. What's de trouble? 
 
 Madison. I don' undestan' dis worl'. If I wants to 
 make music why cain't folks lemme alone to make music? 
 If I dream a fine dream why is it I always wake up ? Looks 
 to me like somebody 's always tryin' to crowd me out an' git 
 me in a tight place. 
 
 Lucy. You wuz doin' all right till you got mix up 
 wif dat white man an' his tricks. De trouble wuz dat dis 
 dream of youah's wuz n't a good dream, 
 
 Madison. Yes, but not all of my dreams is bad ones. All 
 
 I wants is room to dream my good dreams an' make my 
 
 own music. o-j ? m 
 
 Ridgely Torrence. 
 
 SPOILING THE BROTH ^ 
 
 (Characters) 
 
 ]\Irs. Chance (a widow about thirty-eight). 
 
 Joey Chance {her son, a youth ahout seventeen). 
 
 David Wells (the lodger, about the samie age as Mrs. 
 
 Chance ) . 
 'Melia Hammond (a factory girl). 
 
 Scene: Mrs. Chance's kitchen; fire l, doors c and r, 
 dresser kg, kitchen table c, chairs h, against wall and at 
 hack; plates and dishes, &c. on dresser, clock on chimney 
 piece, saucepan simmering on the fire. 
 
 *A11 acting rights reserved. Permission from Samuel Frejich, 28 
 West 38th St., New York City, and Messrs. Chapman and Hall, Ltd., 
 11 Henrietta St., London, England.
 
 250 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 {Cockney Dialect) 
 
 (Joey Chance, a loutish looking youth of between six- 
 teen and seventeen, is sitting in chair by the fire, gazing at 
 the clock and looking very sick. He holds in his hand a 
 small bottle ivith the cork out.) 
 
 Joey. Quarter to six — time for another dose. {Lifts 
 bottle to his lips, then removes it and reads label.) No, it 
 wants just a minute to the quarter. The bloke says as how 
 I must be exact. (Reads.) ''Love Potion spershuUy com- 
 pounded for Joseph Chance, by Professor Swornorff, the 
 inventor of the unrivalled anti-drink powder, one dose 
 should be taken exacly twenty-four hours after a rift 'as 
 occurred between lovers" — yuss, at 'arf pas' five lars night 
 'Melia 'Ammond gave me the go bye for Bert Green, becos 
 'e 'ad a gallery pass giv' 'im for the 'ippodrome. I 'd like 
 to knock 'is silly 'ead orf if 'e wos n 't 'arf a foot bigger 'n 
 me. I took the first dose at 'arf pas' five exack. "Second 
 dose to be taken fifteen minutes later, and the third fifteen 
 minutes after that, each one calling on the name of the 
 beloved one." (Raises bottle.) 'Melia 'Ammond, I looks 
 towards yer, as I 'opes yer 'eart may be turned towards 
 
 me. (Drinks.) Of all the beastly (Half chokes.) Oh, 
 
 'Melia, wot I 'm goin' through fer you! — Ugh! (Subsides 
 in the chair looking sicker than ever.) 
 
 (Mrs. Chance, a bright cheery looking woman, bustles 
 in with a bag for marketing on her arm.) 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Joey ?— Joey ?— Bless the boy, where can 
 he be. 
 
 Joey (still feeling sick and sorry from the effects of the 
 love potion). 'Ere. 
 
 Mrs. Chance (taking parcels from bag and putting them 
 on dresser). Is that a way to speak to yer mother? —
 
 Material for InUrprciation 251 
 
 An' I 've bought a bit extry fer our supper, seein' as it 's 
 yer birfday. 
 
 Joey {limply.) 'As yer? 
 
 Mrs. Chance. There's as nice a bit of pickled pork as 
 yer could wish to see, an' some winkles an' a nice fat bit 
 of 'am. 
 
 Joey {looking as if the mere mention of the things were 
 more than he could stand) . Is there ? 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Well I never, now ! — what 's up with you, 
 Joey! what 'ave you been an' done? {Co-mes down to a 
 little u of tahle.) 
 
 Joey {sulkily). Nothin' . I ain't a bin doin' nothin'. 
 Wot should I 'a bin a doin' of? 
 
 Mrs. Chance {anxiawsly). You ain't bin roun' to the 
 ''Seven Stars" agin, 'ave yer, Joey? 
 
 Joey. Wot if I 'ad ? I 'm a man, ain 't I ? 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Gettin' on that way, but oh, Joey, don't 
 you go and take to the drink. It would nearly break my 
 'eart. You must remember 'ow yer father, pore feller — 
 {wiping her eyes). But there, 'e 's dead 
 
 Joey. Yus, a good job 
 
 Mrs. Chance {horrified). Joey! {Pauses in her work 
 of arranging dishes.) 
 
 Joey. Fer 'im! {Rises and slouches to the door.) 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Now don't yer go away in a temper, Joey. 
 I 'm yer mother, an — an — I wants to see yer grow up a 
 steady respeekable young man like 
 
 Joey {chanting) . ' ' Our lodger 's sech a nice young man, 
 a nice young man is 'e. " I don ' think. 
 
 Mrs. Chance. I'm sure Mr. Wells 'as bin a real blessing 
 to us, an' wot I should 'ave done without 'is little bit of 
 rent coming in as reglar as clockwork, I don' know. It 's a 
 great thing fer you, Joey, 'aving sech a good example in 
 front of yer.
 
 252 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 Joey. 'Ere 'e is, since yor thinks seeh a lot on him. 
 
 {Enter David Wells, a well set up, fine specimen of the 
 British working nmn; he carries a carpenter's hag.) 
 
 David. Evenin', Mrs. Chance. Evenin', Joey. {Hangs 
 up cap.) 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Good evenin', Mr. Wells. 
 
 Joey {sulkily). Evenin'. {He slouches^ to the door.) 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Where are yer goin', Joey? 
 
 Joey. Aht. {Exits scowling at David.) 
 
 David. Wot 's up ? 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Per'aps the pore boy ain't v^ell. There 's 
 a lot of that nasty inferlenzera abaht. I '11 make the boy 
 some nice gruel fer 'is supper, like wot I did when he was 
 a little lad. {Takes oatmeal from, tin on dresser, mixing 
 and stirring with water in saucepan, which she then ^ets on 
 hob.) 'E did n't seem to fancy anything that I 'ad bought. 
 Fair turned up 'is nose at the pickled pork, and the winkles 
 didn't seem to attract 'im neither. 
 
 David. Yer spoilin' that lad, that 's wot yer doin'. 
 
 Mrs. Chance. It 's hard not to. 'E 's all I 've got to spoil 
 an' do for. I 'm one of those that must 'ave sutthin' or 
 someone to fuss after, an' 'e 's all I 've got. Bless the man, 
 what ever are you starin' at me for like that. Yer can 
 smoke if yer wants to. 
 
 David (taking his pipe out and filling it mechanically, 
 much too shy to say at the nwrnent what he wants to). 
 Thank you, Mrs. Chance. 
 
 Mrs. ChxVnce. I'm not one to mind the smell of a pipe. 
 Out of the way please, Mr. Wells, I just want to put this 
 on the 'ob. I don't 'old with objectin' to this an' that an' 
 the other that don't realh^ matter. {Puts on saucepan.) 
 But I 'm sorrj^ as you thinks I 'm spoilin ' Joe}', but 'e 's got 
 such a way with 'im; just like 'is father's w'en 'e happened 
 to be sober.
 
 Material for Interpretation 25S 
 
 David. Them as drinks often 'as ways with 'em that 
 them as does n 't would give a month 's earnin 's to 'ave. 
 Ways of sayin' things that 
 
 Mrs. Chance. That you 'as n't, Mr. Wells. You 're a 
 bit late tonight, ain't you, fer Saturday? (Crosses to 
 dresser and goes on preparing.) 
 
 David {nervously fidgeting with something in the hag). 
 Yer see, it's Joey's birthday 
 
 Mrs. Chance. An' you been buyin' 'im a present. Well, 
 I do take it kind of you ! 
 
 David {coyly). It ain't exactly fer 'im — it 's fer you. 
 You 're a givin ' 'im presents all the time, and it don 't seem 
 fair — so I bought this! {displays with pride a blue glass 
 vase). 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Ain't it beautiful ! But you didn't ought 
 to waste yer money like this; you'll be thinkin' of getting 
 married one of these days. A nice bright bit of colour 
 this '11 make on the chimney, won't it? 
 
 David. I 'd have liked to make it something more — more 
 personal like. A — a brooch or a ring, only I did n 't rightly 
 feel sure 'ow you 'd take it ! But that is a bit tasty now, 
 ain't it? 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Tasty ! It 's fit for a palace. 
 
 David. Glad I 've been able to 'it off your fancy in this 
 little matter — I wish as I might in some other. {With an 
 outhurst of confidence.) 
 
 Mrs. Chance. I 'm sure Joey '11 like it. I likes to keep 
 the 'ome bright and 'appy for 'im, pore lamb, it may 'elp to 
 keep 'im away from the "Seven Stars" or that there 'Melia 
 'Ammond, what's always a lookin' after 'im. 
 
 David. Calf love ; don 't you worry, 'e '11 outgrow it. 
 We all goes through it, but it don't 'ardly ever last. It 's 
 different with older Deoole. Mrs. Chance.
 
 254 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 Mrs. Chance, It 's the "Seven Stars" I mind most 
 about. {Turns the vase up.) W'y; it 's all full of 'ay! 
 The stuff it 's bin packed in, I suppose. I '11 go and wash it 
 out. {Exit R.) 
 
 David. I '11 go and 'ave a wash and brush up f er supper, 
 H'm, goin' on the loose, are yer, Joey ; breakin' yer mother's 
 'eart. I'll soon put a stop to that. {Takes small packet 
 from his pocket and readts directions.) "Professor Swor- 
 norff, the distinguished Russian Physician completely de- 
 stroys the drink habit, by the use of his unrivalled powder. 
 Three packets usually complete a cure. Dissolve 'arf a 
 packet at each meal in the patient's food." {Looks round 
 cautiously.) 'Ere goes. 'Arf a packet! {P fitting powder 
 in saucepan.) Blest if it ain't all gone in! Maybe it will 
 cure 'im all the quicker. {Stirs.) 
 
 {Enter Mrs. Chance, r. drying vase.) 
 
 Mrs. Chance. So you ain't gone yet. 
 
 David. I thought as 'ow the gruel was goin' to boil over! 
 {Stirring.) 
 
 Mrs. Chance. There 's not many men so thoughtful as 
 you, Mr. Wells. Don 't your present look beautiful, now it 's 
 clean. {Puts vase on chimney piece.) 
 
 Daved. I shall be more of a match for it by supper time, 
 {Goes to door r. then returns'.) Mrs, Chance! 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Yes, Mr. Wells? 
 
 David {with some nervousness) . Supposin' it 'ad bin a 
 ring I 'd brought, would you ha' took it? 
 
 Mrs. Chance {slowly). There's Joey to be thought of, 
 Mr, Wells. {Comes c.) 
 
 David. 'E's earnin' 'is own money now, ain't 'e? 
 Eighteen shillin' a week 'e gets, don't 'e? 'E could live 
 'ere with us just the same. I 'm a steady chap on the 'ole, 
 Sarah !
 
 Material for Interpretation 255 
 
 Mrs. Chance {thoughtfully and with a touch of emo- 
 tion) . Yes ; you Ve been steady enough all the time you 've 
 been 'ere. 
 
 David. Three years come Christmas. It was a lucky 
 day for me when I saw the card in your window, "Lodg- 
 ings for a respectable single man." 
 
 Mrs. Chance {turning towards him half shyly). And 
 I think it was a lucky day for me. 
 
 David {embracing her). Sarah! {He holds her away 
 from him and looks at her laughingly.) Church or Reg- 
 istry ? 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Church, please, David. I always did 
 hold with Church ; it 's more stylish like. 
 
 David. Then to-morrow three weeks, Sarah? 
 
 ]\'Irs. Chance. Well, you are in an 'urry! But I don't 
 mind. 
 
 David. Rahnd I goes to the Vicarage after supper! 
 Nah, that 's settled — Sarah! {Tenderly.) 
 
 Mrs. Chance {pushing him off laughing). You go away 
 and let me get supper ready. {Bustles about.) 
 
 David {returning) . So that I '11 get round to the Vicar- 
 age the sooner. 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Oh, get along with you. 
 
 {Exit David, r. Mrs. Chance bustles about singing to 
 herself; stirs the contents of the saucepan and is laying 
 the table when Joey returns more miserable than ever, with 
 his cap well pidled down over his left eye. He slouches 
 over to the fire and sits staring into it.) 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Back again, Joey. 
 
 Joey. Yus. 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Supper 's almost ready. 
 
 Joey. Don't want no supper. 
 
 Mrs. Chance. I do 'ope it ain't the inferlenza, Joey. 
 {Anxiously.)
 
 256 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 Joey {pulling his cap dawn more firmly). No, it ain't. 
 
 Mrs. Chance. I'm cookin' a little something special for 
 you in that there saucepan; you just give it a stir now an' 
 then to keep it from burnin ', while I puts this lettuce under 
 the tap to fresh it up a bit. (Exit r.) 
 
 Joey (sH.s the gruel ohedienthj, then seeing he is alo-ne 
 takes the small bottle from his pocket and pours the con- 
 tents in). P'raps it won't taste so filthy in sutthin' else. 
 'Melia 'Ammond, be mine, and give Bert Green the chuck !! 
 — is what I wish. 
 
 (Enter David cleaned and tidied, r.) 
 
 David. Sarah, old girl, I 've just thought 
 
 Joey. 'Oo are you callin' Sarah! If it 's my mother, 
 I 'd 'ave you to know 
 
 David. Of course it 's 'er. 
 
 Joey. I don't see as there's no "in course" about it. 
 
 David. Wy, ain't she told yer 
 
 Joey. No, she ain't told me. Wot can she 'ave to tell me 
 abaht you? 
 
 David. Why, that she an' me are goin' to be married. 
 
 Joey {utterly amazed) . What! An old woman like 'er? 
 
 David {stoutly). She ain't old! She 's goin' to be my 
 old woman — but she ain't old! An' she's yer mother an' 
 don't you fergit it, or I '11 come the 'eavy father over 
 yer, my lad. 
 
 Joey. Oh, you will, will yer? An' if yer marries 'er, 
 "w'ere am I to bring my missus w'en I marries, eh? 
 
 David. You're too young to marry yet awhile, Joey; I 
 don't approve o' these young marriages. You wait till 
 you 're my age, my lad. 
 
 Joey {squaring up to him fiercely). An' you jolly well 
 keep your blooming advice till you 're asked for it, 
 
 {Enter Mr.s. Chance loith the lettuce on a plate. She 
 looks at the two men amazed, hut tactfully takes no notice.)
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 Material for Interpretation 257 
 
 Mrs. Chance. 'Ere 's the lettuce, an' now we can all sit 
 down nice an' eomferble to supper. Bless me, if I ain't 
 forgot the beer ! 
 
 David {taking jug from dresser). I '11 go round and get 
 some. 
 
 Mrs. Chance (aside). 'Ave yer told 'im? 
 
 David {aside). Yus. Don't you fret, it '11 be all right. 
 {Aloud.) Shan't be long, Sarah. {Exit c.) 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Quite a nice birthday party for yer, Joey, 
 if you wasn't so poorly. 
 
 Joey {his arms on chimney piece and head hent). Can't 
 yer leave a fellow alone, mother? {Goes rc. slawly.) 
 
 Mrs. Chance (l. of table). Well, well; I can under- 
 stand you feelin' it a bit. But I don't care any the less for 
 yer, Joey, an' don't yer never think it. {Comes to him, put- 
 ting her hands on his shoulders.) An' some day, maybe, 
 you '11 be gettin' married to some nice steady respec'able 
 girl, an' we can all live together as 'appy an' eomferble. 
 {Removes his cap and touches his hair tenderly.) Wy, 
 wotever 'ave yer been doin ' ; not fightin ', 'ave yer ? 
 
 Joey {who has winced at her touch on the hruise). Yus. 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Not — not with David? {Anxiously.) 
 
 Joey. Nah, chap in the street. 
 
 Mrs. Chance. W 'y ? What 'ad 'e done ? You did n 't 
 ought to be so suddent like as you are, Joey. {Gets\ basin 
 of water and towel from dresser.) 
 
 Joey {gruffly). 'E said as 'ow I did n't know enough to 
 keep 'er. An' all the time it only was 'e 'd been give two 
 gallery passes for the 'Ippidrome. 
 
 Mrs. Chance. 'Oos 'er? Not that feather 'eaded 'ussy, 
 'Melia 'Ammond? 
 
 Joey. Now don't you go saying nothin' against 'Melia. 
 One o' these days I 'm goin' to marry 'er. 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Sit there an' keep yer 'ead still w'ile I
 
 258 Dialects for Oral Inierpretation 
 
 bathes it. {Pushes Joey inio chair, rc.) First time I've 
 heard o' you gettin' inarriod. 
 
 Joey. Well, it won't be tlie last. I 'm — I'm goin' to 
 marry 'Melia if — if I dies for it. So there ! 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Bless the boy! Wy can't you keep yer 
 'ead still. 
 
 Joey. You need n't think you 're the only one as can do 
 things on the quiet ! 
 
 Mrs. Chance. There — there, Joey, don 't say that ! I 'd 
 as it were not knoAvn, an' yet I 'ad known for a long time 
 — but it won't make no difference between you an' me. 
 That I promise. 
 
 Joey {completely immersed in his own affairs) . I believe 
 I 'd take poison to win a kind glance from 'j\Ielia. {Glances 
 at hroth.) 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Now don't you go talkin' like those silly 
 poitry books. An' so it 's because of 'Melia you 'its out at 
 this chap in the street. 'Oo was it ? 
 
 Joey. Bert Green, what 'olds the Bantam lightweight 
 medal of the Camberwell Beauties. 
 
 Mrs. Chance {admiringly). Well, you are a good 
 plucked 'un ! Not that I 'olds with fightin ', mind yer, Joey. 
 An' so you ups an' 'its 'im? 
 
 Joey. Yus. Leastways, I 'its at 'im. But 'e was too 
 suddent like f er me. 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Pore feller! {Putting hasin on side.) 
 There, you '11 do now. You shall 'ave a drop of gin in yer 
 Bupper to-night. 
 
 Joey {goes to fire and stirs the gruel). I dunno as I 
 wants it. 
 
 {Enter David with heer. He puts the jug on the table.) 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Oh, yus yer do; there's nothin' like a 
 drop of gin w'en yer not feelin' quite the thing. 
 
 David. D 'you think 'e 'd better, mother? {Anxiously.)
 
 Material for Interpretation 259 
 
 Not if 'e don 't want it ? It 's no use f orcin ' the pore feller 
 as it were. 
 
 Mrs. Chance (cheerfully). 'E don't want no forein'. 
 Do yer, Joey ? You just 'ave a little drop to give the gruel 
 a taste. 
 
 Joey [shivering) . I — dunno — I — I think it '11 do very 
 well as it is. Taste and all. 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Oh, nonsense ; you ought to 'ave it to 
 sort of drink our 'ealths. Me and David '11 drink yours in 
 the supper beer. (Pours the gruel into small hotel and sets 
 it on table R.) You '11 carve the pork, David. (Pours gin 
 into gruel.) Now we '11 all sit up to the table and be the 
 'appiest and jolliest little party in Camberwell. (They sit 
 at table: Mrs. Chance c, David l., Joey r.) 
 
 David. 'Ave a slice of pork, Joey? It looks first rate. 
 (Carving.) 
 
 Joey (who has tasted the gruel cautiously but with deter- 
 mination). No; I think — I — I don't want anything else. 
 I '11 sit by the fire and drink this. (Sits l., drinking the 
 gruel with every appearance of heroic determination and 
 distaste.) 
 
 ]\Irs. Chance. Sorry you feel so porely, Joey. Well, you 
 'ave given me a large 'el pin', Mr. Wells. 
 
 David. David ! 
 
 Mrs. Chance (coquettishly) . David! 
 
 David (gallantly) . 1 'elps yer, as I loves yer — Sarah! 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Well, I never knew such a feller as you 
 are for say in' things. My old old man never did. (Helps 
 him to salad.) 
 
 David. 'Ere, whoa ! 'Old on a bit ; don't you givin' me 
 all the garden stuif. Wot do you say to goin' to the Empire 
 or the Palace this evenin'? 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Oh, David ; that would be nice !
 
 260 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 David. Stalls, second 'oiise. 
 
 Mrs. Chance {firmly). No, David, no extravagance. 
 Upper circle, first 'ouse. Oh, it will be nice ; I do like a 
 music 'all. I thinks it 's jujst like 'eaven, an' with you 
 there, too! 
 
 David. If we goes to-night, we goes to stalls. I want to 
 show the fellers what bloomin' fatheads they were to leave 
 a jolly little woman like you a widow for so long. 
 
 Mrs. Chance. I couldn't ha' married befor', because 
 of Joey; but now 'e 's grown up, an' it 's different. Oil, 
 David, I am glad you came to stay 'ere as a respec'able 
 single man! {Cries a little.) 
 
 David. There, there! There's nothin' to cry about, you 
 silly. 'Ere, 'ave a drop of beer. {Pouring out beer.) We '11 
 all drink your 'ealth. 'Ere, Joey! {Going to him with 
 glass. ) Drink our good 'ealth ; an ' when your time comes, 
 we '11 do the same by you. 
 
 (Joey, who has sunk into a state of unconsciousness, nat- 
 urally returns no answer.) 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Wy don't you answer, Joey? Yer not 
 sulking, are yer? 
 
 David {standing behind and a little above Joey). I — I 
 think he 's asleep — Mother. {Nervously.) 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Asleep! Wake up, Joey, and drink our 
 'ealths. {Shaking him.) 
 
 David {nervously). W'at — w'at 's come to 'im, do you 
 think ? 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Blest if I know ! Joey — ^Joey — What 's 
 wrong with you? 
 
 (Joey rolls on to the floor.) 
 
 David. P 'raps 'e 's .'ad a drop too much. You did give 
 'im a good drop of gin for 'is cold. 
 
 Mrs. Chance. W'y 'is 'ead 's stronger than that, pore
 
 Material for Interpretation 261 
 
 lamb. 'Ere, let 's loose 'is neck cloth. Joey — Joey — Don't 
 you 'ear me? (Pause. Then with a sudden inspiration 
 picks up the howl and tastes the contents.) Ugh ! Run for 
 the doctor ! 'E 's poisoned ! My Joey 's poisoned ! 
 
 David (staggering back against the table). What! I 
 never meant no 'arm ! That I did n 't ! They 're guaran- 
 teed 'armless! 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Oh, Joey ; my pore Joey ! You 've piz- 
 ened 'im. You 'ave, I can see it in your fice. 'Ow did yer 
 do it? (Kneeling l.) 
 
 David (kneeling r. of Joey). 'Is 'eart 's all right! 
 
 Mrs. Chance. You get away ! 'Ow did you do it, you — • 
 you — oh! An' I thought you so respec 'able! 'Ow did yer 
 do it? 
 
 David (repeats miserably) . They was guaranteed 'arm- 
 less. 
 
 Mrs. Chance (angrily). 'Ow, don't keep on say in' that! 
 Wot was? 
 
 David. Professor Swornorff's unrivalled Drink Cure. 
 'Ere 's another packet, yer can see for yerself. Sarah, I 
 knoo 'ow worritted yer was sometimes because 'e seemed to 
 'ave a bit of a likin' for a drop, an' — an' by accident I give 
 'im an 'ole packet in 'is gruel instead of 'all That 's all. 
 
 jMrs. Chance. If my Joey dies, I 'II never speak to you 
 again as long as I live. 
 
 David. 'E ain't dead, not 'im. Look, 'is colour 's comin' 
 back. 
 
 Joey (groaning and sitting up very dazed). 'Melia! 
 
 Mrs. Chance (clasping him in her arms). My boy ! My 
 boy! 
 
 Joey (embracing her fervently). 'Melia! Then the 
 spell 's worked ! Oh, 'Melia ! 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Oh, 'e 's raving!
 
 262 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 David. That ain't 'Melia, it 's your mother you 've got 
 'old of. Stop it ! 
 
 Joey. 'Melia! (Listening.) 
 
 (Loud rap at door c.) 
 
 Joey. That 's 'Melia! The potion 's brought 'er 'ere! 
 Let 'er in. (Rises.) 
 
 Mrs. Chance (almost sohhing). 'E 's gone dotty! Joey 
 dear, that ain't 'Melia; it 's just yer ain't feelin' quite 
 right in yer 'ead. 
 
 David (awestruck) . There is someone there. 
 
 (Rap repeated, and almost without a pause 'Melia 'Am- 
 MOND, a smart handsome girl in a furious temper, bounces 
 in.) 
 
 'Melia. Well, Mrs. Chance, I do think as w'en a lidy 
 comes to see another lidy, as the fust lidy might do 'er the 
 favour of tiking a little notice on 'er. 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Joey ain't very well, an' 
 
 'Melia (continuing). — but it 's only w'at I should ex- 
 pect of the mother of that. (Contemptuously.) 
 
 Joey. .'Melia, you 'ave come. 
 
 'Melia. Shut yer silly fiee till I 've done talkin'. 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Out o' my 'ouse, you 'og! Call yorself a 
 lidy, you owdacious 
 
 'Melia. Oh, I 'm goin' fast enough, Mrs. Chance, when 
 I 've said what I wants to say to Mr. Joey Chance there. 
 
 Joey (feebly). 'Melia! 
 
 'Melia. Miss 'Ammond if you please; and I '11 thank 
 you not to speak to me in future. I '11 tike it as a per- 
 sonal insult if yer does. Yer miserable little presumin' 
 worm. 
 
 David. 'Old 'ard now, Miss 'Ammond ! "Wot 's the 
 good of callin' names. 
 
 'Melia (unth great contempt). This ain't no concern of
 
 Material for Interpretation 263 
 
 yours, and I '11 thank you not to open your mouth in case 
 yer puts yer foot in it. 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Now look 'ere, Miss 'Ammond, this is my 
 'ouse and 
 
 'Melia. An' you look 'ere, Mrs. Chance, I '11 say wat I 
 came to say, if I stops 'ere a week. {To Joey.) Wot call 
 'ad you to go 'itting of my bloke ? 
 
 Joey (apologetically). 'Melia! I — Oh, lor, my *ead! 
 (Rocking.) 
 
 'Melia. Keep still — yer gives me the fidgets! 
 
 Joey. Yes, 'Melia! (Sits on arm of chair, lc.) 
 
 'Melia. It was a piece of imperence, that 's wat it wos ! 
 Blooming imperence, and don't you dare to speak to me 
 again, so there. A little miserable shrimp like you to go a 
 'ittin' of the Bantam Lightweight Medal 'older of the 
 Camberwell Beauties ! Yah ! 
 
 David. You must say as it was plucky, Miss 'Ammond. 
 
 'Melia. Plucky! Just foolishness and conceit — and I 
 don't 'old with such! I 've done with 'im. {Jerking her 
 head at Joey.) 
 
 Joey {pulling himself together). An' — an' I 'm done 
 with you, 'Melia 'Ammond. Keep wot I 've gived yer 
 towards yer feather club, an ' go out with yer Bantam if yer 
 likes. As for me, I '11 smash up that old Professor 
 Swornorff 
 
 David. Swornorff! I '11 help yer, 
 
 Joey. — An' 'is 'ole bag of tricks, if I does a six months' 
 stretch for it ! 'Ere 'ave I 'arf poisoned myself with this 
 'ere blooming love charm. {Holding up bottle.) 
 
 David. Eh ? 
 
 Mrs. Chance. Joey? {Simultaneously with David.) 
 
 Joey. — Wot was to make you care for me, 'Melia.
 
 5264- Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 '^Ielia {unth a touch of remorse). I always knew you 
 was soft, Joey. 
 
 Joey. I ain 't soft no longer. I 'm as 'ard as you are. 
 
 I\Irs. Chance. An' now per'aps you '11 go, Miss 'Am- 
 mond. (Opens door.) 'Aving got wot you corned to say 
 off your chest. 
 
 ']\Ielia. Yes, I 'm goin'. 
 
 Joey. An' I 'opes yer '11 enjoy the 'Ippidrome, (With 
 repressed emotion.) 
 
 'Melia. I 'opes so, Mr. Chance. 
 
 Joey. An ' w 'en I 'm in quod for smashin ' up Swornorff 
 and 'is stall, I 'opes you '11 enjoy the thoughts of that. It 
 might even come to murder. {Hitching his collar suggest- 
 ively.) 
 
 '^Ielia (turning hack) . Oh, Joey, no ! No, yer would n't. 
 Oh, Joey, not that — please Joey. « 
 
 Joey. You 've made me 'ard, and 'ard I stays ! ^ 
 
 'Melia. But not murder ! I did n't think it of you, Joey. 
 Oh, yer can't. Oh, Joey; I 'd never forgive myself if you 
 went and got stretched for a measley foreigner ! Oh ! Oh ! 
 (Flings her arms round him.) 
 
 Joey (emhracing her). 'Melia! Cheer up! Yer goin'- 
 to stick to me ? ^ 
 
 ']\Ielia. Yus, Joey. (Sohhing.) 
 
 David. Seems as if there might be some good in that 
 there potion arter all ! 
 
 Bei tha N. Graham.
 
 Material for Interpretation 265 
 
 "THE PHILOSOPHER OF BUTTERBIGGENS"* 
 
 (Characters) 
 
 David Pirnie 
 Lizzie, his daughter. 
 John Bell, his son-iiv-law. 
 Alexander, John's little son. 
 
 John Bell's tenement at Butt erhig gens* consists of the 
 very usiuil ''two rooms, kitchen and hath," a con- 
 cealed bed in the parlour and another in the kitchen^ 
 enabling him to house his family — consisting of him- 
 self, his wife, his little son, and his aged father-in-law 
 — therein. The kitchen and living room is a good-sized 
 square room. The right wall (our right as we look at 
 it) is occupied by a huge built-in dresser, sink, and 
 coal bunker; the left wall by a high-mantled, ovened 
 a:nd boilered fireplace, the recess- on either side of which 
 contains a. low painted cupboard. Over the far cup- 
 board hang-s a picture of a ship, but over the near one 
 is a small square window. The far wall has two large 
 doors in it, that on the right leading to the lobby, and 
 thai an the left appertaining to the old father-in-law's 
 concealed bed. 
 
 The walls are distempered ^ a brickish red. The ceil- 
 ing once was white. The floor is covered with bright 
 linoleum and a couple of rag rugs — one before the fire 
 
 * " The Philosopher of Buttcrbiggcns" is fully protected by copy- 
 right, and all rights are reserved. 
 
 Permission to act, read publicly, or make any use of it must be 
 obtained from Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York, 
 N. Y. 
 
 ' Distempered — calcimined. 
 
 * Butterbiggens is a suburb of Glasgow. 
 
 IL
 
 266 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 — a large one — and one smaller one before the door of 
 the concealed bed. 
 
 A deal table is just to r. of center, a long flexible 
 gas bracket depending from the ceiling above it. An- 
 other many-jointed gas-bracket projects from the mid- 
 dle of the high mantle-piece, its flame turned down 
 towards the stove. There are wooden chairs at the 
 table, above, below, and to l. of it — the latter chair be- 
 ing in the centre. A high-backed^ easy-chair is above 
 the fire, a kitchen elbow chair below it. 
 
 The kitchen is very tidy. A newspaper newly fallen 
 to the rug before the fire and another — an evening one 
 — spread flat on the table are {besides a child's mug 
 and plate also on the table) the only things not stowed 
 in their prescribed places. It is evening — the light be- 
 yond the little square window being the grey dimness^ 
 of a long Northern twilight which slowly deepens dur- 
 ing the play. V^^hen the curtain rises it is still light 
 enough in the room for a man to read if the print be 
 not too faint and his eyes be good. The warm light of 
 the fire leaps and flickers through the grey, showing 
 up with exceptional clearness the deep-lined face of old 
 David Pirnte, who is discovered half-risen from his 
 arm-chair above the fire, S'tanding on the hearth-rug, 
 his body bent and his hand on the chair arm. He is a 
 little feeble old man with a well-shaped head and\ 
 weather-beaten face set off by a grizzled beard and 
 whiskers wiry and vigorous in curious contrast to the 
 wreath of snowy hair that encircles his head. His 
 upper lip is shaven. He wears an old suit — the waist- 
 coat of ivhich being unbuttoned shows an old flannel 
 shirt. His slippers are low at the heel and his socks 
 loose at the ankles.
 
 Material for Interpretation 267 
 
 The old mnn's eyes are fixed appealingly on those 
 of his daughter, who stands in the half-open door, her 
 grasp on the handle, meeting his look squarely — a 
 straight-h rowed, hlack-haircd, determined young wo- 
 man of six or seven and twenty. Her husband, John, 
 seated at the table in his shirt-sleeves, with his head in 
 his hands, reads hard at the paper and tries to look 
 unconcerned. 
 
 David. Aw — but Lizzie ! 
 
 Lizzie {with splendid firmness). It 's nae use, Feyther. 
 I 'm no gaein' to gie in to the wean.^ Ye 've been tellin' 
 yer stories to him nicht after nicht for dear knows how long 
 and he 's gettin' to expect them. 
 
 David. Why should he no' expect them? 
 
 Lizzie. It dis na do for weans to count on things so. 
 He 's layin' up a sad disappointment for himself yin o' 
 these days. 
 
 David. He's gettin' a sad disappointment the no'. Och, 
 come on, Lizzie! I 'm no' gaein' to die just yet an' ye 
 can break him off gradually when I begin to look like to. 
 
 Lizzie. "Wha's talkin' of yer diein', Feyther? 
 
 David, Ye were speakin' o' the disappointment he was 
 layin' up for himself if he got to count on me. 
 
 Lizzie. I was na thinkin' o' yer diein', Feyther — only 
 — it 's no guid for a bairn 
 
 David. Where's the harm in my giein' him a bit story 
 before he gangs tae his bed ? 
 
 Lizzie. I 'm no ' sayin there 's ony harm in it this yinst ^ 
 Feyther; but it 's no richt to gae on nicht after nicht wi' 
 never a break 
 
 * Wean or bairn, small child. 
 ' Yinst = once.
 
 268 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 David. "Whit wey is it no richt if tlier 's nae harm in it? 
 
 Lizzie. It 's giein' in to the wean. 
 
 David. AVhit wey should ye no' gie in to him if there 's 
 nae harm in it? 
 
 Lizzie {keeping her 'patience with difficulty). Because it 
 gets him into the habit. 
 
 David, But why should he no' get into the habit if 
 there 's no harm in it ? 
 
 (John, at the table, chuckles. Lizzie gives him a look, 
 hut he meets it not.) 
 
 Lizzie. Really, Feyther, ye micht be a wean yerself 
 ye 're that persistent. 
 
 David. No, Lizzie, I 'm no' persistent. I 'm reasonin' 
 wi' ye. Ye said there was nae harm in my tellin' him a wee 
 bit story an' now ye say I 'm not to because it '11 get him 
 into the habit, an' what I 'm asking ye is where 's the 
 harm o' his gettin' into the habit if there 's nae harm 
 in it? 
 
 Lizzie. Oh, aye ; ye can be gay clever, twisting the 
 words in my mouth, Feyther; but richt 's richt, and 
 wrang 's wrang for a' yer cleverness. 
 
 Davtd (earnestly). I 'm no' bein' clever ava,^ Lizzie — 
 no' the noo — I 'm just trying to make ye see that if ye 
 admit there 's nae harm in a thing ye canna say there 's 
 ony harm in it an' (pathetically) — I 'm wantin' to tell wee 
 Alexander a bit story before he gangs to his bed. 
 
 John (aside to her). Och, wumman 
 
 Lizzie. T'ts, John, ye 'd gie in tae onybody if they were 
 just persistent enough. 
 
 John. He 's an auld man. 
 
 Lizzie (really exasperated) . I ken fine he 's an auld man, 
 John, and ye 're a young yin, an' Alexander 's gaein' to be 
 
 * Ava = at all.
 
 Material for Interpretation 269 
 
 anither, an' I 'ma lone wumman among the lot o' ye. But 
 I 'm no' gaein' to gie in to 
 
 John {bringing a fresh mind to hear upon the argu- 
 ment). Efter a', Lizzie, there 's nae harm 
 
 Lizzie (almost with a scream of anger). Ochl Now 
 you 've stairted, have j^ou ? Harm ! Harm ! Harm ! 
 You 're talkiu' about harm and I 'm talking about rieht 
 and wrang. You 'd see your son grow up a drunken keelie 
 an' mebbe a thief an' a murderer so long as you could say 
 there was nae harm in it. 
 
 David (expostulating with some cause). But I cudna 
 say there was nae harm in that, Lizzie, an' I wudna. Only 
 when there 's nae harm 
 
 Lizzie. Och!! (Exits off to the cause of the trouble). 
 Are ye in yer bed yet, Alexander? (Shuts door with a 
 click.) 
 
 David. (Standing on hearthrug and .shaking his head 
 more in sorrow than in anger). She 's no' reasonable, ye 
 ken, John, she disna argue fair. I 'm no' eomplainin o' her 
 mither, but it 's a wee bit thing hard that the only twa 
 women I 've known to be really chatty an' argumentative 
 with should have been just like that. An' me that fond o' 
 women's society. (He lowers himself into his chair.) 
 
 John. They 're all like it. 
 
 David (judicially) . I wudna go sae far as to say that, 
 John. Ye see I 've only kent they twa to study carefully 
 — an it 's no fair to judge the whole sex by just the twa ex- 
 amples an' it were — (running on) but it 's gey hard an* 
 I was wantin' to tell wee Alexander a special fine story the 
 nieht. (Removes glasses and blinks his eyes.) Aweel!! 
 
 John (comforting). Mebbe the morn 
 
 David. If it 's no' richt the nicht it '11 be no' richt the 
 mom's nicht.
 
 270 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 John. Ye canna say that, Feyther. It wasna wrang 
 last nicht. 
 
 David (bitterly). Mebbe it was an' Lizzie had no' found 
 it out. 
 
 John. Ah, noo, Feji:her, dinna get saureastic. 
 
 David {between anger and tears, xceaMy). I canna help 
 it. I 'm black affronted. I was wantin' to tell wee Alex- 
 ander a special fine story the nicht an' now here 's Lizzie 
 wi' her richt 's richt an' wrang 's wrang. Och! There 's 
 no reason in the women. 
 
 John. We has to gie in to them, though. 
 
 David. Aye. That 's why. 
 
 {There is a pause. The old mnn picks up Ms paper 
 again and settles his glasses on his nose. John rises 
 and with a spill from tJie mantelpiece lights the gas 
 there, which he then bends to throw the light to the old 
 man's advantage.) 
 
 David. Thank ye, John. Do ye hear him? 
 
 John {erect on hearth rug). Who? 
 
 David. Wee Alexander. 
 
 John. No. 
 
 David. Greetin' his heart out. 
 
 John. Och, he 's no' greetin'. Lizzie 's wi' him. 
 
 David. I ken fine Lizzie's wi' him, but he 's greetin' fo^ 
 a' her. He was wantin' to hear yon story o' the kelpies up 
 to Cross Hill wi' the tram {breaking his mood impa- 
 tiently). Och! 
 
 John {crossing to table and lighting up there). It 's 
 gettin' dark gey early. We '11 shin be haein' tea by the 
 gas. 
 
 David (rustling his paper). Aye. (Suddenly.) There 
 never was a female philosopher, ye ken, John. 
 
 John. Was there no?
 
 Material for Interpretation 271 
 
 David. No. {Angrily in a gust.) An' there never will 
 be! {Then more calmly.) An' yet there 's an awful lot 
 of philosophy about women, John. 
 
 John. Aye ? 
 
 David. aye. They 're that unreasonable, an' yet ye 
 canna reason them down, an' they 're that weak an' yet 
 ye canna make them gie in to ye. Of course ye '11 say ye 
 canna reason doon a stane or make a clod o' earth gie in 
 tae ye. 
 
 John. Will I ? 
 
 David. Aye. An' ye '11 be richt. But then I '11 tell ye 
 a stane will na answer ye back, an' a clod o' earth will na 
 try to withstand ye, so how can ye argue them down? 
 
 John {cowvinced). Ye canna. 
 
 David. Richt. Ye canna. But a wumman will answer 
 ye back, an' she will stand against ye, an' yet ye canna 
 argue her down though ye have strength an ' reason on your 
 side an she 's talkin' naething but blether about richt 's 
 richt and wrang 's wrang an' sendin' a poor bairn off t* 
 his bed i' the yin room an' leavin' her auld feyther all alone 
 
 by the fire in anither an' — ye ken Philosophy 
 
 {He ceases to speak and wipes his glasses again.) 
 
 (John, intensely troubled, tiptoes up to the door and 
 opens it a foot. The wails of Alexander can be heard, 
 muffled by a further door. John calls off.) 
 
 John. Lizzie. 
 
 (Lizzie immediately comes into sight outside the door 
 • urith a ''shsh.") 
 
 John. Yer feyther 's greetin', 
 
 Lizzie {with a touch of exasperation) . Och, I 'm no 
 heedin'. There 's anither wean in there greetin' too, an' 
 I 'm no heedin' him neither, an' he 's greetin' twicet as 
 loud as the auld yin.
 
 272 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 John (shocked). Ye 're heartless, wumman. 
 
 Lizzie {with patience). No. I 'm no heartless, John, 
 but there 's too much heart in this family an' someone 's 
 got to use their heid. 
 
 (David cranes round the side of his chair to catch what 
 they are saying. She stops and comes to him kindly, 
 but with womanly firmness.) 
 
 Lizzie. I 'm vexed ye should be disappointed, Feyther, 
 but ye see, don't ye 
 
 {A singularly piercing wail from Alexander ^70^5 up. 
 Lizzie rushes to silence him.) 
 
 Lizzie. Mercy! The neighbours will think we 're mur- 
 derin' him. {The door closes behind her.) 
 
 David {nodding for a space as he revolves the woman's 
 attitude). Ye hear that, John? 
 
 John. Whit? 
 
 David {with quiet irony). She 's vexed I should be dis- 
 appointed. The wumman thinks she 's richt ! Wummen 
 always think they 're richt — mebbe it 's that makes them 
 that obstinate. — {With a ghost of a twinkle.) She 's feart 
 0' the neighbours, though. 
 
 John {stolidly). Ah, women are feart 0' the neighbours. 
 
 David {reverting). Puir, wee mon. I telt ye he was 
 greetin', John. He 's disappointed fine. {Pondering.) 
 D 'ye ken what I 'm thinkin', John? 
 
 John. Whit ? 
 
 David. I 'm thinkin' he 's too young to get his ain wey 
 an' I 'm too auld an' it 's a fine thocht. '^ 
 
 John. Aye ? 
 
 David. Aye. I never thocht of it before, but that 's 
 what it is. He 's no' come to it yet, an' I 'm past it. {Sud- 
 denly.) What 's the most important thing in life, John? 
 
 (John opens his mouth and shuts it again, unused.)
 
 Material for Interpretation 273 
 
 David. Ye ken perfectly well. What is it ye 're wantin' 
 a' the time?" 
 
 John. Different things. 
 
 David (satisfied). Aye — different things! But ye want 
 them a', do ye no'? 
 
 John Aye. 
 
 David. If ye had yer ain wey ye 'd hae them, eh ? 
 
 John, I wud that. 
 
 David {triumphant). Then is that no' what ye want? 
 Yer ain wey? 
 
 John {enlightened). Losh! 
 
 David {warming to it). That 's what life is, John — 
 gettin' yer ain wey. First ye 're born an' ye canna dae 
 anything but cry, but God 's given yer mither ears an' ye 
 get yer wey by juist cry in' for it — {hastily anticipating 
 criticism) I ken that 's no' exactly in keepin' wi what I 've 
 been sayin' aboot Alexander — but a new-born bairnie 's 
 an awfu ' delicate thing an ' the Lord gets it past its infancy 
 by a dispensation o' Providence very unsettling to our 
 poor human understandings. Ye '11 notice the weans cease 
 getting their wey by juist greetin' for it as shin as they 're 
 auld enough to seek it otherwise. 
 
 John. The habit hangs onto them, whiles. 
 
 David. It does that — {with a twinkle). An, mebbe if 
 God 's given yer neighbours ears an ' yer live close ye '11 get 
 yer wey by a dispensation o' Providence a while longer. 
 £ut there 's things yer '11 hae to do for yourself gin ye 
 want to — an' ye will — ye '11 want to hold out yer hand, 
 an' yer will hold out yer hand, an' ye '11 want to stand 
 up an' walk an' ye urill stand up an' walk, an' ye '11 want 
 to dae as ye please an' ye ivill dae as ye please, an' then 
 ye are practised an' learnt in the art of gettin' yer ain 
 wey — an ' ye 're a man !
 
 271 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 John. j\Ian, Feyther, ye 're wonderful ! 
 
 David {complacciitly). I 'm a philosopher, John. But 
 it goes on mebbe. 
 
 John. Aye ? 
 
 David. Aj-e. Mebbe ye think ye 'd like to make ither 
 folk mind ye an' yer wey an' ye try, an' if it comes off 
 ye 're a big man an' mebbe the master o' a vessel wi' three 
 men and a boy under ye as I was, John. {Dropping mto 
 the minor.) An' then ye come down the hill. 
 
 John {apprehensively) . Doon the hill? 
 
 David. Aye — down to mebbe wantin' to tell a wean a 
 bit story before he gangs tae his bed, an' ye canna dae even 
 that. An' then a while more an' ye want to get to yer 
 feet an' ye canna, an' a while more an' ye want to lift up 
 yer hand an' ye canna — an' in a while more ye 're just 
 forgotten an' done wi'. 
 
 John. Aw, Feyther ! 
 
 David. Dinna look sae troubled, John. I 'm no afraid 
 to die when my time comes. It 's these hints that I 'm done 
 wi' before I 'm dead that I dinna like. 
 
 John. What'n hints? 
 
 D.wiD. "Well — Lizzie an' her richt's richt an' wrang 's 
 wrang when I think o' telling wee Alexander a wee bit 
 story before he gangs tae his bed. 
 
 John {gently). Ye are a wee thing persistent, Feyther. 
 
 David. No, I 'm no persistent, John. I 've gied in, 
 I 'm a philosopher, John, an' a philosopher kens when he 's 
 done wi. 
 
 John. Aw, Feyther! 
 
 David {getting lower and lower). It 's gey interesting, 
 philosophy, John, an' the only philosophy worth thinkin' 
 about is the philosophy of growin' auld — because that 's 
 what we 're a' doing, all living things. There 's nae
 
 Material for Interpretation 275 
 
 philosophy in a stane, John; he 's juist a stane an' in a 
 hundred years he '11 be juist a stane still — unless he 's 
 broken up, an' then he '11 be juist not a stane but he '11 no 
 ken what 's happened to him because he did no break up 
 gradual an' first lose his boat an' then his hoose an' then 
 hae his wee grandson taken away when he was for tellin' 
 him a bit story before he gangs tae his bed. — It 's yon 
 losing yer grip bit by bit an' kennin' that ye 're losing it 
 that makes a philosopher, John. 
 
 John. If I kennt what ye meant by philosophy, Feyther, 
 I 'd better able to follow ye. 
 
 (Lizzie enters quietly and closes door after her.) 
 
 John {turning to Lizzie). Is he asleep? 
 
 Lizzie. No, he 's no asleep, but I 've shut both doors, 
 an' the neighbours canna hear him. 
 
 John. Aw, Lizzie 
 
 Lizzie (sharply). John 
 
 David. Whit was I tellin' ye, John, about weans gettin* 
 their ain wey if the neighbours had ears an' they lived 
 close. Was I no' rieht? 
 
 Lizzie {answering for John, ivith some acerhity). Aye, 
 ye were richt, Feyther, nae doot, but we dinna live that 
 close here, an' the neighbours canna hear him at the back 
 o' the hoose. 
 
 David. ]\Iebbe that 's why ye changed Alexander into 
 the parlor an' gied me the bed in here when it began to 
 get cauld. 
 
 Lizzie (hurt). Aw, no, Feyther, I brought ye in here 
 to be warmer — 
 
 David {placably). I believe ye, wumman — {with a faint 
 twinkle again) but it 's turned oot luckily, has it no'? 
 
 (David ivaits for a reply, hut gets none. Lizzie fetches 
 needle work from dresser drawer and sits ahove table.
 
 276 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 David's face and voice take on a more thoughtful 
 tone.) 
 
 David {musing). Puir wee man. If he was in here 
 you 'd no ' be letting him greet his heart oot where onybody 
 could hear him. Wud ye? 
 
 Lizzie {calmly). Mebbe I 'd no'. 
 
 John. Ye ken fine ye 'd no', wumman. 
 
 Lizzie. John, thread my needle, an dinna take Feyther's 
 part against me. 
 
 John {su7-prised) . I 'm no* 
 
 Lizzie. No, I ken you 're no' meaning to, but you men 
 are that thrang ^ 
 
 {She is interrupted by a loud squall from David, which 
 he maintains, eyes shut, chair-arms gripped, and mouth 
 open for nearly half a minute before he cuts it off 
 abruptly and looks at the startled couple at the table.) 
 
 Lizzie. Mercy, Feyther, whit 's wrang wi' ye? 
 
 David {collectedly) . There 's naething wrang wi' me, 
 Lizzie, except that I 'm wantin' to tell wee Alexander a 
 bit story 
 
 Lizzie {firmly but very kindly). But ye 're no' goin' 
 
 to {She breaks off in alarm as her father opens his 
 
 mouth preparatory to another yell, which, however, he 
 postpones to speak to John.) 
 
 David. Ye mind whit I was sayin' about the dispensa- 
 tion o' Providence to help weans till they could try for 
 theirselves, John? 
 
 John. Aye. 
 
 David. Did it no' occur to ye then that there ought to 
 be some sort of dispensation to look after the auld yins 
 who were past it? 
 
 John. No. 
 
 * Thrang = thick.
 
 Material for Interpretation 277 
 
 David. Aweel — it did na occur to me at the time — {and 
 he lets off another prolonged wail.) 
 
 Lizzie {going to him). Feyther! The neighbours 11 
 hear ye ! ! 
 
 David {desisting as before). I ken it fine. I 'm no' at 
 the back of the hoose. {Shorter wail.) 
 
 Lizzie {almost in tears). They '11 be comin' to ask. 
 
 David. Let them. They '11 no' ask me. {Squall.) 
 
 Lizzie. Feyther — ye 're no' behaving well. John 
 
 John. Aye ? 
 
 Lizzie {helplessly). Naething Feyther, stop it! 
 
 They '11 think ye clean daft. 
 
 David {ceasing to howl and speaking with gravity). I 
 ken it fine, Lizzie ; an ' it 's no ' easy for a man who has 
 been respectit an ' lookit up to a ' his life to be thought daft 
 at eighty-three, but the most important thing in life is to 
 get yer ain wey. {Eesumcs wailing.) 
 
 Lizzie {puzzled, to John). Whit 's that? 
 
 John. It 's his philosophy what he was talking aboot. 
 
 David {firmly). An' I 'm gaein' to tell wee Alexander 
 yon story tho' they think me daft for it. 
 
 Lizzie. But it 's no' for his ain' guid, Feyther. I 've 
 telt ye so, but ye wudna listen. 
 
 David. I wudna listen, wumman ! It was you wudna 
 listen to me when I axed ye whit harm — {checking him- 
 self). No. I 'm no' gaein' to hae that ower again. I 've 
 gied up arguin' wi women. I 'm.just gaein' tae greet loud 
 an' sair till wee Alexander 's brought in here to hae his bit 
 story, an' if the neighbours {Loud squall.) 
 
 Lizzie {aside to John). He 's fair daft. 
 
 John {aghast). Ye 'd no' send him to 
 
 Lizzie {reproach f idly). John 
 
 {A louder squall from the old man.)
 
 278 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 Lizzie. Oh, Feyther ( beseechingly ) . 
 
 {A still loii-der one.) 
 Lizzie {heating her hands together distractedly). He '11 
 
 be Will He'll Och!! (Resigned and 
 
 beaten.) John, go and bring wee Alexander in here. 
 (John is off like a shot. The opening of the door of the 
 other room can he told hy the hurst of Alexander's 
 voice. The old man's wails have stopped the second 
 his daughter capitulated. John returns with Alex- 
 ander and hears him to his grandfather's waiting 
 knee. The hoy's tears and howls have ceased and he 
 is smiling triumphantly. He is, of course, in his night- 
 shirt and a hlanket which Grandpa wraps round him, 
 turning towards the fire.) 
 Lizzie (looking on unth many nods of the head and 
 smacks of the lips.) There you are! That 's the kind o' 
 boy he is. Greet his heart oot for a thing an' stop the 
 moment he gets it. 
 
 David. Dae ye expect him to gae on after he 's got it? 
 Ah, but Alexander, yer didna get it yer lane this time — it 
 took the twa o' us. An' hard work it was for the Auld 
 Yin! Man (playing hoarse) I doot I've enough voice 
 
 left for a (bursting out very loud and\ making the 
 
 hoy laugh). Aweel! Whit 's it gaein' to be — eh? 
 
 Harold Chapin.
 
 PART III 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY
 
 SECTION XIV 
 GENERAL REFEEENCES 
 
 BOOKS OF REFEEENCE 
 
 "Dialect Notes," American Dialect Society. (Several volumes.) 
 
 "Modern Language Notes." (Several volumes.) 
 
 "Seen on the Stage," Clayton Hamilton, Ch. 2. 
 
 "Browning and the Dramatic Monologue," S. S. Curry, Ch. 13. 
 
 ' * Yankee Fantasies, ' ' Percy Mackaye, Introduction. 
 
 * * Irish Poems, ' ' Arthur Stringer, Introduction. 
 
 "American Speech," Calvin Lewis, Ch. 5. 
 
 "American Speech," H. L. Mencken. 
 
 EEFERENCE ARTICLES 
 
 "A Study in the Correction of Dialectic English," D. W. Redmond, 
 • Eng. Journal, Oct. 1914. 
 
 "Standard of American Speech," F. N. Scott, Eng. Journal, Jan. 
 1917. 
 
 "The Stage and Better Speech," W. P. Daggy, Speech Quarterly, 
 Nov. 1921. 
 
 "Vocal Elements that Cause Foreigners Difficulty in the Pronuncia- 
 tion of English," E. M. Michaels, Thesis, U. of Wis., 1919. 
 
 LIST OF BOOKS OF COLLECTED READINGS CONTAINING 
 
 DIALECT 
 
 Title of Booh 
 "Best Things from 
 Best Authors" 
 
 "Choice Readings" 
 
 "Dialect Ballads" 
 
 "Handbook of Best 
 Readings ' ' 
 
 Author or Compiler Publisher 
 
 C. Shoemaker's (com- Penn Pub. Co., Phila- 
 
 piler) (28 vol.) 
 R. L. Cumnock 
 
 C. F. Adams 
 S. H. Clark 
 
 281 
 
 dolphia 
 
 A. C. McClurg, Chi- 
 cago 
 
 Harper Bros., N. Y* 
 
 Scribner, N. Y.
 
 282 
 
 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 Title of Book Author or Compiler 
 
 "Humorous Speaker" P. M. I'earson 
 
 "Modern Literature G. E. Johnson 
 for Oral Interpre- 
 tation" 
 
 Publisher 
 
 Hinds & Eldredge, 
 N. Y. 
 
 Century Co., N. Y. 
 
 I 
 
 "Modern Mono- 
 logues ' ' 
 
 Marjorie B. Cooke 
 
 Cliarles Seegel, Chi- 
 cago 
 
 'One Hundred Choice C. Shoemaker (com- Penn Pub. Co., Phila- 
 Selections" piler) (20 vol.) delphia 
 
 'Eeadings from Lit- Halleck & Barbour 
 erature" (compilers) 
 
 'Readings and Reci- (58 Vol.) 
 tations" 
 
 American Book Co., 
 N. Y. 
 
 E. S. Werner, N. Y. 
 
 "Studies in Dialect" M. M. Babcock (com- L^niversity of Utah 
 
 pilar) 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS 
 
 "Selections for Oral C. M. Feuss 
 Reading ' ' 
 
 "Standard Selec- Fulton & Trueblood 
 
 tions ' ' 
 
 "Selected Eeadings" Anna Morgan 
 
 "Soper's Dialect H. M. Soper 
 
 Readings" 
 
 "Scrap Book Recita- H. M. Soper (com- 
 tions" piler) (15 vol.) 
 
 Press, Salt Lake 
 City 
 
 Macmillan Co., N. Y. 
 
 Ginn & Co., Boston 
 
 A. C. McClurg, Chi- 
 cago 
 
 T. S. Dennison & Co., 
 Chicago 
 
 T. S. Dennison & Co., 
 Chicago 
 
 Authors -whose writings afford good selections either all Dialect, 
 or Dialect in part. The list includes colloquial Dialects found in 
 various parts of the United States and child Dialect, 
 
 James Laxe Allen 
 
 J. J. Bell 
 
 Alice Brown 
 
 J. M. Barrie 
 
 Ellis Parker Butler 
 
 Peter F. Dukne 
 
 Charles Dickens 
 
 Josephine Dodge Daskam 
 
 Dorothy Dix 
 
 William Allan Deoomgoold 
 
 Norman Duncan 
 
 John Fox, Jr. 
 
 Georce Fitch 
 
 Mary E. W. Freeman
 
 Bibliography 
 
 283 
 
 Etjgene Field 
 Montague Glass 
 Zona Gale 
 Sally Pratt Greene 
 0. Henry 
 Joel C. Harris 
 Fanny Hurst 
 Jerome K. Jerome 
 Owen Johnson 
 
 Charles B. Loomis 
 Joseph C. Lincoln 
 Ian Maclaren 
 Helen R. Martin 
 F. HoPKiNsoN Smith 
 Euth McEnery Stuart 
 Marie Van Slyke 
 Henry van Dyke 
 Owen Wistes 
 
 Wallace Bruce Amsbaby 
 
 Burton Braley 
 
 Gillette Burgess 
 
 Edmond Vance Cooke 
 
 HoLMAN F. Day 
 
 Paul Laurence Dunbar 
 
 William H. Drummond 
 
 T. A. Daly 
 
 Sam Walter Fobs 
 
 Egbert Frost 
 
 Eugene Field 
 
 James W. Foley 
 
 Strickland Gillilan 
 
 Wallace Irwin 
 Burgess Johnson 
 James F. Kirk 
 Joseph C. Lincoln 
 W. M. Letts 
 John Masefield 
 Percy MacKaye 
 
 J. W. ElLEY 
 
 Irwin Russell 
 Arthur Stringer 
 R. L. Stevenson 
 Nixon Waterman
 
 SECTION XV 
 DETAILED LIST OF SELECTIONS
 
 286 
 
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 289 
 
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 304 Dialects for Oral Interpretation 
 
 ADDRESSES OF PUBLISHERS IN ABOVE LIST 
 
 "100 Choice Selections" and "Shoemaker's Best Selections," Penn 
 
 Pub. Co., 925 Filbert St., Philadelphia, Pa. 
 "Choice Selections," Cumnock, and "Selected Readings," Morgan, 
 
 A. C. McClurg & Co., Wabash Ave., Chicago, 111. 
 ' ' Werner 's Readings, ' ' Edgar S. Werner & Co., 43 E. 19th St., New 
 
 York City. 
 Ginn & Co., Boston, Mass. 
 Chas. Scribner 's Sons, New York City. 
 Century Co., New York City. 
 Hinds & Eldredge, New York City. 
 University Press, Salt Laie City, Utah. 
 American Book Co., New York City. 
 Harper Bros., New York City.
 
 INDEX 
 
 SCOTCH 
 
 Artist, The .... 
 Auld Daddy Darkness 
 
 Banks o' Doon, the . 
 
 Cuddle Doon 
 
 Coom, Lassie, Be Good to 
 
 Did You Ever? . . 
 
 Highland Mary 
 
 Last May a Braw Wooer 
 
 My Ain Wife . 
 My Ain Fireside 
 
 * Scotch Wooing, A . 
 She Liked Him Kale Weel 
 
 Twa Weelums, The 
 
 * Twa Courtin 's, The . 
 
 Wife He Wants, The . 
 * Why No Scotchmen 
 
 Heaven .... 
 When Mither 's Gane . 
 
 Me 
 
 Go 
 
 to 
 
 John Stevenson . 
 Joseph Ferguson 
 
 Robert Burns 
 
 Alexander Anderson 
 Charles Mcllvane 
 
 John Stevenson . 
 
 Robert Burns . 
 
 Robert Burns . 
 
 Francis Bennoch 
 William Hamilton 
 
 Jerome K. Jerome 
 Andrew Wauless 
 
 Violet Jacobs 
 David Kennedy . 
 
 John Stevenson . 
 
 Anonymous 
 Anonymous . 
 
 ITALAN 
 
 • An Italian 's Views on the 
 
 Labor Question Joseph Kerr 
 
 Between Two Loves .... T. A. Daly . 
 ' ' Descended from Christoph ' 
 
 Colomb " Fred Emerson Brooks 
 
 Those starred are in prose. 
 
 PAoa 
 65 
 63 
 
 48 
 
 60 
 
 72 
 
 56 
 
 58 
 
 64 
 
 57 
 54 
 
 61 
 45 
 
 46 
 51 
 
 49 
 
 55 
 
 71 
 
 82 
 75 
 84 
 
 305
 
 306 Index 
 
 PAQB 
 
 Da 'Mericana Girl .... T. A. Daly 77 
 
 Da Veera Lectla Baby ... T. A. Daly 80 
 
 Da Posta-Card from Napoli . T. A. Daly ...... 81 
 
 Mia Carlotta T. A. Daly 79 
 
 So Glad for Spreeng .... T. A. Daly 76 
 
 NEGRO 
 
 * Aunt Amity's Silver Wedding Ruth McEnery Stuart . . 96 
 
 * Brer Rabbit and the Little 
 
 Girl Joel Chandler Harris . . 115 
 
 Dancing in the Flat Creek 
 
 Quarters John A. Macon .... 113 
 
 De Circus Turkey Ben King 91 
 
 De Namin' ob de Twins . . . Mary Fairfax Childs . . 100 
 
 Dance, The Irwin Russell .... 104 
 
 *"Dey Ain't Xo Ghosts" . . Ellis Parker Butler . . . 105 
 
 De Cushville Hop Ben King 112 
 
 * Dark Brown Diplomat, A . . Marjorie Benton Cooke . 93 
 
 In the Morning Paul Laurence Dunbar . . 89 
 
 Nebuchadnezzar Irwin Russell .... Ill 
 
 or Joshway and de Sun . . . Joel Chandler Harris. . . 94 
 
 Opportunity Paul Laurence Dunbar . . 118 
 
 Theology in the Quarters . . . John A. Macon .... 99 
 
 * Tale of the Possum, The . . Joel Chandler Harris . . 120 
 
 * Why the Guineas Stay Awake Joel Chandler Harris . . 102 
 
 FRENCH AND FRENCH CANADIAN 
 
 Charmette William H. Drummond . . 132 
 
 Dieudonn6 William H. Drummond . . 125 
 
 "De Nice Leetle Canadienne" . William H. Drummond . 131 
 
 De Cirque at 01' Ste. Anne . . Wallace Bruce Amsbary . 137 
 
 Family Laramie, The .... William H. Drummond . 135 
 
 Football at Chebanse .... Wallace Bruce Amsbary . 127 
 
 Little Battese William H. Drummond . . 126
 
 Index 
 
 307 
 
 * Eesponse to a Toast . 
 Wreck of the "Julie Plante" 
 
 Litchfield Moseley . 
 William H. Drummond 
 
 SCANDINAVIAN 
 
 Abou Swen Anson 
 Ai Tank So 
 
 William F. Kirk 
 J. B. Babcock . 
 
 Barefoot Boy, The 
 Courtship of Miles Standish . 
 George Washington . 
 
 William F. Kirk 
 William F. Kirk 
 William F. Kirk 
 
 Stealing a Ride William F. Kirk 
 
 Sheridan's Kide William F. Kirk 
 
 IRISH 
 
 * Borrowing a Pie 
 Birds . . . . 
 
 Charles B. Loomis 
 Moira O'Neill . 
 
 Choice, The W. M. Letts . 
 
 Childer Arthur Stringer 
 
 Corrymeela Moira O 'Neill 
 
 Cloidna of the Isle .... Arthur Stringer 
 
 Cuttin' Rushes Moira O'Neill 
 
 Circumstances Alter Cases , . Anonymous . 
 
 Cut Finger, The Ellis Parker Butler 
 
 Drownded W. M. Letts . 
 
 * Donegal Fairy, A . . . . Letitia McClintock 
 
 Evening Up, The Arthur Stringer . 
 
 Fair, The Theodosia Garrison 
 
 I '11 Niver Go Home Again . . Arthur Stringer 
 
 * King O 'Toole and His Goose Samuel Lovor 
 
 * New Year 's Resolutions 
 
 * Natural Philosopher, A , 
 
 * On Political Parades 
 Ould Doctor MaGinn . 
 
 * On Charity .... 
 
 F. P. Dunne 
 T. Maccabe 
 
 F. P. Dunne . . 
 Arthur Stringer . 
 F. P. Dunne . . 
 
 PAoa 
 134 
 
 140
 
 308 
 
 Index 
 
 Pat Mapee Lena Gyles . 
 
 Pride of Erin ...... Arthur Stringer 
 
 Says She W. M. Letts . . 
 
 Tomorrow ......:. Alfred Tennyson 
 
 Wife My Brother Got, The . 
 Wise Man, The .... 
 Wishing Bridge, The . 
 
 Padric Gregory . . , 
 
 Arthur Stringer . 
 
 Euth Comfort Mitchell . 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS 
 Dog Story, A (German) . . . John T. Brown 
 
 Foreign Views of the Statue 
 (Medley) 
 
 •Hans' Hens (German) . 
 John Chinaman's Protest 
 
 Fred E. Brooks . . . 
 Charles Battell Loomis 
 Anonymous .... 
 
 Mr. Schmidt's Mistake (Ger- 
 man) Charles F. Adams 
 
 Rustic Song, A (Medley) 
 
 Alfred Tennyson 
 
 Spinster 's Sweet Arts, The 
 
 (Lincolnshire) Arthur C. Deane 
 
 ONE-ACT PLAYS IN DIALECT 
 
 Philosopher of Butterbiggens, 
 
 The (Scotch) Harold Chap in . 
 
 Eider of Dreams, The (NeRro) 
 Eamlet o' Puce, The (Irish) 
 
 Spoiling the Broth (Cockney) 
 
 Eidgeley Torrence . 
 A. McClure Warnock 
 
 Bertha N. Graham . 
 
 Books of Eeforence 
 
 Eeference Articles 
 
 List of Books of Collected Eeadinos Containing Dialect . 
 List of Authors furnishing Dialect Material, Prose and Poetry 
 Bibliography of Four Hundred Selections 
 
 rAOB 
 
 192 
 199 
 
 177 
 
 184 
 
 198 
 157 
 159 
 
 215 
 
 206 
 203 
 213 
 
 208 
 210 
 
 205 
 
 265 
 
 227 
 249 
 
 219 
 
 281 
 281 
 281 
 282 
 287
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
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 Goleta, California 
 
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