Stuart weaves a deeper tale …
‘She was takyn with an elfe.
I saw it myself
When the clok stroke twelf
Was she forshapyn.’
“That doesn’t bring us any closer to ‘lork’.”
“The twelfth month appears to have been explained though.”
Well, the next day, har husband he took her inter the room, an’ there was the flax an’ the day’s vittles.
‘Now, there’s the flax,’ says he, ‘an’ if that ain’t spun up this night off goo yar hid.’ An then he went out and locked the door.
He’d hardly goon, when there was a knockin’ agin the winder.
She upped and she oped it, and there sure enough was the little oo’d thing a settin on the ledge.
‘Where’s the flax?’ says he.
‘Here te be,’ says she. And she gonned it to him.
Well, come the evenin’, a knockin come agin to the winder. She upped an’ she oped it…
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