VEH goll seose ec y Creg doo,*
Cha row eh wheesh as troggal e kione.
Son va daa veill er Hudgeon,
Kiart wheesh as my daa ghoayrn,
As va daa rolley dy hombaga
Ayns mean er e vart conney.

HE was going up at the Black rock,
He was not as much as lifting his head.
For there were two lips on Hudgeon,
Just as big as my two fists,
And there were two rolls of tobacco
In the middle of his load of gorse.

Above Fleshwick.

Any comments, errors or omissions gratefully received The Editor
HTML Transcription © F.Coakley , 2000