Newfoundland is a dream destination for many, but anyone with an interest in linguistics will find this to be one of the most interesting and diverse regions imaginable. This isn’t a surprise given the accent for which we are so renowned.
“Speak some ‘Newfie’ for us, Andrew!”
But imagine the confusion when I respond with “No problem, from what bay? Any particular town? East or north end of the city?” For surely there are dozens, perhaps even t’ousands of unique dialects dispersed throughout the many remote towns and outport communities of Newfoundland.
Most of our vernacular derives from Ireland and England, with a smattering of Welsh thrown in for good measure. Spread that out over a coastline originally fished by the French, Spanish and Portuguese and you’ll end up with some of the most bizarre place names, and an assortment of beautiful words, expressions and sayings.
It’s a patois that easily explains the need of a ‘Newfoundland Dictionary’ when trying to interpret the many versions of English found on this fair island.
Of course the many years of isolation experienced by the Newfoundland people has kept the original dialects they carried to the island mostly intact. In fact, a number of linguistic studies conducted by universities in Ireland and England have shown that we have done a much better job of preserving their language than anything they can find in their homeland. Thus, while discussing the subject with a lovely couple of art dealers from London last week, they offered this poem to support our theory:
A music hall poem about Hampstead, England, a genteel village in NW London situated high on a hill overlooking the city.
‘Arry went to ‘Amsted.
‘Arry bought an ‘at
‘Arry’s Mother said to ‘Arry
“ ‘Arry, where’s your ‘at?”
‘Arry said to ‘Arry’s Mother
“ ‘Anging in the ‘all!!”
‘Arry’s Mother said to ‘Arry
“If you don’t sound your “H’s”
You h’ignorant ninny.
H’I’ll ‘it you round the ‘ead
With an ‘ard ‘eaded ‘ammer
And make you ‘owl ‘orribly!
