Anne Blakemore & Tobias Gill (Black Toby)

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  1. Ian Topham says:

    Re: Anne Blakemore & Tobias Gill (Black Toby)
    "BLACK TOBY." 
    AN OLD SUFFOLK TALE
    (in dialect).

    Fine momin sah, wot’s thaat yaou ax
    Wot plaace be thaat ahid ?
    Woy thaat be Blybrer straate, tha’s ware
    I live, an’ allers did;

    An’ yon’s the chuch, but haps yaou know’t
    For these hare larst few yares
    A mort o’ fooks come round these paarts,
    An’ at the chuches stares;

    For sure ’tis mighty ‘musin’ tew,
    Ter hare the waay they torks;
    Yus, hinder be the Wukhus, an’
    These hare be Toby’s Walks;

    Hew’s Toby? did I hare yaou saay?
    Woy then, ’tis plain ter see
    Yaou doan’t belong ter these hare paarts,
    Ware mought yar buthplaace be ?

    In Lunnon town! woy then in coorse
    Yaou cou’nt be ‘sposed ter know,
    Il’ tell yer wot I’ve allers heerd;
    Yaou’ll ‘souse my bein’ slow,

    ‘Cos I haain’t larnt ter spaake up shaarp,
    Nor niver bin ter skule.
    An’ wen I sees fooks read an’ write
    I faals a blarmed owd fule ;

    But this hare’s wot my grammother
    Hev orfen towd ter me,
    An’ she wore right a tough un, foor
    She lived ter ninety three ;

    How more’n a hunderd yare agoo,
    Wen good owd Goorge wore King,
    An’ England fowt the Frenchmin, as
    I’ve heerd owd sowdjers sing ;

    A regiment o’sowdjers come*
    Along o’this hare rood,
    An’ laay in Blybrer Straate a waak,
    A’ lodgin’ ware they could;

    An’ they’d a band o’ music got,
    With drummers tew oor three,
    An’ one o’ these hare drummers chaps
    Wore blaack as blaack could be;

    Blaack Toby wore his Chrissen uaame,
    His naature, ‘twore thaat baadd
    As iy’ry one as knowed ‘m said
    The devil wore his daad;

    One ev’nin he wore stroamin’ round
    Good tidy full o’booze.
    Wen a gal come gald’rin’ down yon rood,
    An arter har he goos;

    Now wot he said oor done ter har
    I caan’t ezackly tell,
    Foor yaou be bound ‘twam’t nuthin good.
    An’ baad tork doan’t sound well;

    Howsever she won’t none o’him,
    An’ towd ‘m so I spec
    For arter har he went right quick
    An’ catcht har by the neck.

    Har hankercher he then pulled out,
    Which round har throot he tied,
    An’ then he hulled har on the ground.
    An’ graained har till she died;

    An’ then, ’tis wonndy straange to saay,
    The drink began ter tell,
    An’ in drunkin kind o’slaape
    Right by the coorpse he fell.

    The next d’ morn some laabrin’ fooks
    A comin from the Straate,
    They see owd Toby i’ the holl,
    With the gal agin his faate;

    An’ as ’twere clear he kilt the gal,
    Altho’ he fowt ‘m haard,
    They took ‘m up right out ‘n hand,
    An’ kep ‘m under guard;

    The Crowner’s Quest saat on the coorpse,
    An’ orl o’ them agreed
    As how ‘twore plaain the gal wore kilt,
    An’ plaain hew done the deed;

    They found as Toby done the job.
    An’ as he con’nt ha’ bail ;
    They sent ‘m orf ter Ipswich town,
    An’ hulled ‘ni inter jaail.

    An’ there he laay till ‘Sizes come.
    An’ senteneed ‘m ter deth,
    Sayin’ as how he must be hung
    On this hare wery heth ;

    They browt ‘m tew them cross roods there,
    An’ hanged ‘m up in chaains,
    An’ there he hung till he dropt down,
    Wore out by winds and raains ;

    An’ ef aat midnight time yaou stan’.
    Jest ware them gallers stood,
    Fooks saay yaoull hare a carriage come
    A rattlin’ down the rood.

    Foure bosses blaack without no bids,
    A Fun’ril bus behind,
    A blaack maan settin’ on the box
    A drivin’ loike the wind;

    They saay ‘cos Toby hain’t no graave,
    Noor yet no parsin’ bell,
    He’re got ter come hare iv’ry night,
    An’ drive hisself ter hell.

    The gals an’ childen i’ the plaace.
    An’ growed up wimmin tew,
    They on’t goo parst hare arter daark
    Onless there be a crew;

    But hinder come our Maaster’s dorg,
    So he bain’t faar awaay,
    He caan’t abear us mardlin’ so
    I wish yaou Sab, Gooddaay.

    Ernest R. Cooper.

    [The East Anglian; or, Notes and queries on subjects connected with the counties of Suffolk, Cambridge, Essex and Norfolk (1800)]