Just a few years back, there was quite
a fondness for rendering Wilhelm Busch's
tales of Max and Moritz into
unusual languages and dialects.
Here is our offering.

Mak n' Tak

This bit o' doggerel starts up at the point when Farmer Muck, as ye'll mind, had put the two lads in a flour-sack (but carelessly not tied the top properly), and delivered them to the miller to be disposed of...

...Make en' Tak were i' the poke
En' striteway knaa'd it wez nae joke.
Funnin' ower - they nivvor ettled
Atween twee mill-styens t' get fettled!
Looka! the poke is varnigh cowp'd -
But miller flackered - oot they lowped -
Then - ye've guessed it - they hoyed him in
In his varry aan top bin!
Doon the chute, inti the styens
Siun he's grand up, e'en his byens.
Doon the stee en' roon the yard
They've run ti gawk at what they've gar'd.
Nae orthly use fer man to nibble
Is a minced miller in a kibble.
"Unless," sez Mak of what emerges,
"We dad it inti smaaly burgers?"
Sez Tak, "Aye, they'll sell canny i' toon,
We've getten a mincer en' a yune,
He'll mak a canny snack in fadges,
An' suin we'll need a lot mair gadgies..."

Farmer Muck he'd ta'en his skite,
For he feeled quite sartin like
Ti be the forst to spread the crack:
"Thor'll be nae mair o' Mak n' Tak!"
But man, thor wick still, awfu' gay,
Studying hoo ti mak crime pay.
The farmer's 'ware o' that a' reet
When they knock him off his feet.
Takkin' haud by eether lug
Off ti the mill with him they scud.
En' sae the pair got rich en' flourish'd
As yan by yan the village vanish't.
Whiel they myed a stack as millers,
En' ended up eftor aal that ace Coonty Cooncillors.