I dunno quite who t’was put it there, but a’corse somebody done o that,
but what somebody that would ha’ been is right open to speckylation.
And all speckylation is best if you does it in the Bonewood Inn,
with a jar o’ the local malt,
or if you be feeling right expansive
you might want to try one of thicky ole malts what Owen has his cousin
[that’s the one on his grandma’s side what be thirteen tomes removed and allus was up thereabouts]
send down to him from the Western Isles.
But I’ll be leavin’ all that entirely up to you.

It may very likely be the same somebody what put the compass rose on the map.
I dunno if you yet have noticed,
many folks don’t for a while and often not til after they’ve had a wee dram,
but that “E” is on the left.
Now the “N” is quite stable, and tis where you’d normally go lookin’ for it being,
but  that “E”, it do seem as if it have strayed somewhat,
a bit like young Henery’s sheep do when he takes them up the hill for the hafod every springtime.
There’s one or two o’ them as will go wandering off a’woolgathering
and getting theirselves all intricated,
usually in Mother Bridey’s herb garden what’s round the back o’ the shop.
And how she do get herself into a right old curmudgeon!
Poor dear! She can’t help it, her mother was just the same.
 
Nobody don’t take no notice of it no more.
In fact, I dursn’t recall the last time anybody did, not the locals that is.
Tis a bit of an appledrane when the grockles does get going on it an’ all,
an’ they can get as mazed as a brush, some on ‘em can,
and then Mother Bridey has to come round
with some of her valerian and wormwood potions to calm the poor souls down.
Us does understand how tis for them, poor souls,
but they can be a gurt noosance once they does get going.
But there, that’s grockles for’y.
 
The village has bin yere time outa mind.
I mean, just you look at this yere old oak tree.
Young Jacob now, him down the forge
– him what be the blacksmith’s boy,
not old Jacob by Crooked Oak farm, him what lives in the old vardo.
The red one I means, not Jinny’s green one –
anyroad him, he done counted back through his grandmothers
and got himself a long ways back.
But then he see’d a hiccabock and got all framboozled
and he tipped his counting frame over din’t he?
So we never did find out how many twas he got to.

But how’s about you just come set yerself down on a bench by the oak, then?
Summun’ll come by, soon or late, and they’ll stop to chat withee,
and then y’ll be all set up.
And if you’m hungry, well they allus got good vittals in the Inn.
Or if you wants summat to read like, to pass the time like,
Mother Bridey do have shelf-fulls o’ very good books, summat for all tastes, she got.

Just whatever tis you like to do you just take it slowly like.
All things’ll come to y’ in their own time yere in Bonewood.