t’Missis. “Tuppence a piece!” exclaim’d t’dollop of ’em, “we can get it at owd Matty Wreet’s fer a penny a week. It’s a burning shame, but let’s hev a bucket a piece.”

So thirteen cups a piece they tuke, An’ they were noan ta blame, Fer weel shoo knew did Hannah Shack, They’d hev to pay the same.

An’ my word, t’gert foak wor capp’d when they saw us; these wor some squintin’ throo glasses, yu mind, p. 81an’ especially when t’band started a playin’. In fact, they wor fair charm’d wi’ t’Turkey Mill Banders, an’ a deal o’ t’young ladies an’ gentlemen admired t’conductor, fer his arm went just like a hand-loom weiver swingin’ his pickin’ stick.

p. 81

Fer monny a noble lord did say, An’ so did monny a heiress, “Can this be Julien’s Band, I pray, That late we’ve seen in Paris.

“Upon my word, I think it is That famous French instructor, Mon Dieu! when I behold his phiz, It is the great conductor.”

But they wor t’moast capped wi’ t’Fife an’ Drum Band ov owt. They tuke ’em to be a band of Esquimaux at hed just landed i’ England. Hahsumivver, we followed after, marchin’ ta t’tune ’at t’owd kah deed on, i’ droves like a squad o’ pie-bald geese, wal we com ta t’watter edge, an’ then—

To Miller’s Brah, an’ Calf-garth Woods, Some on ’em tuke ther route, Some sailed across to Castle Wray, An’ some went whear they thowt.

Some tuke a yacht to Newby Brig, To brave both wind an’ tide, Wal others sailed around Belle Isle, An’ some to Ambleside.

I’ landin’ at Ambleside, Joe o’ Raygill’s bethowt him he’d hev a glass o’ ale, an’ bethegs he’d t’misfortun p. 82to leave three gert curnberry pasties i’ t’hotel, an’ didn’t bethink him wal he’d getten on ta t’top of a big hill, but when he bethowt him, my word, he did bounce dahn that hill ta some tune. When he gat back, t’missis hed geen ’em to Jonas o’ Sall’s, an’ behold they wor luking fer one another up hills an’ dahn valleys, Joe axin’ ivverybody he met if they’d seen owt of his three pasties, an’ Jonas axin’ fer t’owner on ’em. Hahsumivver, they nivver gat ta see nowt wal they wor theer, for they didn’t meet wal t’train wor just startin’ back agean, an’ then Joe didn’t get his pasties, cos Jonas hed geen ’em to a injun-driver, an’ theer—betmess he’d hetten ’em, ta Joe’s mortification an’ rage!

p. 82

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