The Newton Flooer Show

(An extract from Readings by Robin, by W G Lyttle, c.1890)

A neednae tell ye that Newtonerds is the grandest pert in creation for flooer shows. They hae been tryin ’ till ootdae it in a wheen ither places, bit they jist made lauchinstocks o’ themsels.

There wuznae sae muckle talk throo’ the country this year aboot the Flooer Show as there wuz sum years back, fur raelly the fowk ir oot o’ heart wi’ the bad wather an’ the failyer o’ the pritta crap. Hooaniver, there wuz a terble sough got up aboot the horse jumpin’ an’ aboot prizes for butter. Weel, Jamey Menyarry wuz in oor house yin nicht, an’ he’s yin o’ these quer snifflin’, sneerin’ soart o’ fowk that ye cud niver ken whuther they’re in fun or ernest, an’ mony a time A cud jist fin in my heart till draw my han’ an’ gie him a whussel across the ear. Ye ken the kin’ o’ fowk A mean. Weel, as A wuz sayin’, Jamey cum in yin nicht, an’ durin’ the discoorse he sez till Peggy, sez he, “What wud ye think of compytatin’ fur a prize fur the butter, Peggy?”

Peggy jist lauched.

“Weel, an’ what’s till hinner her?” sez I.

“A’m shair A dinnae ken,” sez Jamey, “bit A think,” sez he, “she wud only hae the bother o’ carryin’ it hame agen.”

• • • • •

Weel, ov coorse, there wuz nae gettin’ in till twa o’clock. A micht a got in on my Pattern’s ticket at yin o’clock, but A wudnae lee Peggy. A thocht the time wud niver cum roon, an’ whun it did A wuznae lang till A wuz there. The furst place Peggy an’ me made fur wuz the butter show, and A tell ye it fair astonished me. The place wuz crowded, an’ A niver seen as muckle butter in yin place afore. A coonted awa aboot thirty big lumps forbye Peggy’s yin, an’ there wuz hunners o’ prents o’ butter. It wuz a’ set in a great lang row an’ covered wi’ wire till keep the fowk frae tastin’ it. Fur a’ that A seen them puttin’ their knives through the wires till get at it. A focht my road through the fowk like a man, an’ cum to Peggy’s butter at last. There it wuz, dabbit a’ ower wi’ the men’s knives, but what tuk my e’en wuz the rid kerd on it. A furst prize fur Peggy! My, the licht left my e’en, an’ a pu’d Peggy forrit till luk at it. Peggy’s name wuz writ on the kerd, an’ A kent the han’ writin’ in a minit. It wuz Mister Smith, yin o’ the judges, wrote it, an’ he did it quer an’ nice.