{162a}

BARLEY.

(3rd S. v. 358; vi. 481; vii. 84.)

This query reminds me of a mystic jingle used by Lincolnshire boys when claiming any treasure-trove, whether a bird’s nest or otherwise:

“All my awn (own)!
Barley-corn
Bar ha’ays (halves) and quarters!”

The second line is exquisitely obscure, still there seems a family likeness to the Lancashire instance given by T. T. W. in your January part (p. 84), so far as the right to a “find” is concerned. Whether the other sense of “barley;” viz. a prohibitive or cautionary one, may be connected with the verb “bar,” I merely throw out as a hint. I think that monosyllable is still in use in boys’ games to stop any irregularity, as “bar that!” “bar striking!” &c. Among Lincolnshire phrases one may hear, “It’s a bargains on it!” or “Oh, a bargains on (or of) him!” when one would depreciate a man or a thing.

In a little threepenny tract, Notes on Lincolnshire Words, in form of a glossary (Lincoln, Brookes), “bargains” in this phrase is explained by the old negative “bar;” viz. no gains, no profit, no good of him or it. The late Rev. Jas. Adcock, Mr. Halliwell’s chief Lincolnshire correspondent, once gave this to the writer. (N.B. I have just seen—not without a certain indignation—bar and barring, in the sense of excepting [a perfectly legitimate sense] inserted in the Slang Dictionary.)

Apropos of Lincolnshire words, which have received very little attention generally, a local classification of the several dialects is very desirable, by which some estimate of the local immigrations at the era of the sea kings might perhaps be approached. A walk of a few hours introduces a new dialect. Rambling on the wolds, not far from Horncastle, I asked a shepherd boy the way to a certain farmhouse which I was bound for. In showing me its {162b} direction, he added—“It’s a pla’as uncommon hard to fin.” Now, nearer to Lincoln, foind, with a splendidly full and broad enunciation, would have been the word. The Danes (per Mr. Worsaae) claim our country as their own. On the coast near Wainfleet is the popular bathing village, Skegness; the Notes just mentioned connect it with some Baltic prototype, Skaegnaes; but query if Danish, as I have been assured that the k is soft in Denmark, and that it would have come down to us as Shagness. The word would imply a ragged shore, a rough cape, which scarcely applies, to the flat Lincolnshire beaches.

I am glad to see on p. 31 of your January part a “Lincolnshire Dialogue” by C. P. T., but in a county some eighty miles from north to south, the locality should have been given. Sthrange, as the pronunciation of strange, is, I confess, quite strange to me; taving (restless) is probably south Lincolnshire. It is given in Thompson’s Boston, and Skinner (temp. Chas. II.) has “to tave, furere,” as a Lincolnshire word. He was a Lincoln physician. Wetchard must be the common corruption of wet-shod, and only applicable to wetted feet. C. P. T. mentions in a note (as if it were the bona fide name) “Marquery, a vegetable peculiar to Lincolnshire, resembling spinach.” I presume the same as the mercury of the gardeners. I hope the writer will pursue the subject, but not omit to tell the district he illustrates.

There are some curious instances in the above-quoted Notes of words lost since Skinner’s time from our local vocabulary. A tom-cat was then a karl-cat, meaning no scandal on the joyous Stuart on the throne, but simply thus (according to Skinner) “Lincoln. usitatissima pro feli mare, ab A.-S. karl, i. e. masculus.” Scathe, to hurt; snithe-wind, a cutting wind; beesen, blind, with many more, which have perhaps only retreated northward since those days, have likewise disappeared from among us. In the fourteenth century old parish documents show that gar, speer, and other Scotticisms, as they are now considered, were current in the district.

Lindensis.