Keep yor heart eawt o' yor clogs.
It 's a fine thing is larning; it ta'es no reawm up, mon; an' then th' baillies connut fot it, thea sees.
Aw'm noan one o' th' best, yo know; naw, nor th' warst nothur, Jone. Happen not; but thee'rt too good to burn, as hea 't be [too good to burn, howsoever it be].
That clock begins o' givin short 'lowance, as soon as ever aw get agate o' talkin.
Aw 'd sooner see thee nor two fiddlers, ony time.
They [cheap-trippers] felt fain at they 'rn wick.
Tormentil grows oftenest abeawt th' edge o' th' singing layrock neest.
Solomon's seal—to cure black e'en wi'.
We 're o' somebor's childer.
The sign of the Roebuck and Grapes—"Sitho, sitho', Mary, at yon brass dog, heytin' brass marrables!"
Enoof is us good us o feeost.
Sit thee deawn, and thee 'll be less bi th' legs.
A quart ov ale wouldn' come amiss; and he wouldn't wynd aboon wonst afore he 'd see 'd th' bottom o' th' pot.
Lord John, th' Wheyver.—Aw think they'n ha' to fot Lord Jone back to wheyve his cut deawn. To my thinkin, he 'd no business t' ha laft his looms. But aw dare say he knows his job better nor aw do. He 'll be as fause as a boggart, or elze he 'd never ha' bin i' that shop as lang as he has—not he.
