A Witch
There's
thik
wold
hag,
Moll
Brown,
look
zee,
jus'
past!
I
wish
the
ugly
sly
wold
witch
Would
tumble
over
into
ditch;
I
woulden
pull
her
out
not
very
vast.
No,
no.
I
don't
think
she's
a
bit
belied,
No,
she's
a
witch,
aye,
Molly's
evil-eyed.
Vor
I
do
know
o'
many
a-withrèn
blight
A-cast
on
vo'k
by
Molly's
mutter'd
spite;
She
did,
woone
time,
a
dreadvul
deäl
o'
harm
To
Farmer
Gruff's
vo'k,
down
at
Lower
Farm.
Vor
there,
woone
day,
they
happened
to
offend
her,
An'
not
a
little
to
their
sorrow,
Because
they
woulden
gi'e
or
lend
her
Zome'hat
she
come
to
bag
or
borrow;
An'
zoo,
they
soon
began
to
vind
That
she'd
agone
an'
left
behind
Her
evil
wish
that
had
such
pow'r,
That
she
did
meäke
their
milk
an'
eäle
turn
zour,
An'
addle
all
the
aggs
their
vowls
did
lay;
They
coulden
vetch
the
butter
in
the
churn,
An'
all
the
cheese
begun
to
turn
All
back
ageän
to
curds
an'
whey;
The
little
pigs,
a-runnèn
wi'
the
zow,
Did
zicken,
zomehow,
noobody
know'd
how,
An'
vall,
an'
turn
their
snouts
towárd
the
sky.
An'
only
gi'e
woone
little
grunt,
and
die;
An'
all
the
little
ducks
an'
chickèn
Wer
death-struck
out
in
yard
a-pickèn
Their
bits
o'
food,
an'
vell
upon
their
head,
An'
flapp'd
their
little
wings
an'
drapp'd
down
dead.
They
coulden
fat
the
calves,
they
woulden
thrive;
They
coulden
seäve
their
lambs
alive;
Their
sheep
wer
all
a-coath'd,
or
gi'ed
noo
wool;
The
hosses
vell
away
to
skin
an'
bwones,
An'
got
so
weak
they
coulden
pull
A
half
a
peck
o'
stwones:
The
dog
got
dead-alive
an'
drowsy,
The
cat
vell
zick
an'
woulden
mousy;
An'
every
time
the
vo'k
went
up
to
bed,
They
wer
a-hag-rod
till
they
wer
half
dead.
They
us'd
to
keep
her
out
o'
house,
'tis
true,
A-naïlèn
up
at
door
a
hosses
shoe;
An'
I've
a-heärd
the
farmer's
wife
did
try
To
dawk
a
needle
or
a
pin
In
drough
her
wold
hard
wither'd
skin,
An'
draw
her
blood,
a-comèn
by:
But
she
could
never
vetch
a
drap,
For
pins
would
ply
an'
needless
snap
Ageän
her
skin;
an'
that,
in
coo'se,
Did
meäke
the
hag
bewitch
em
woo'se.
