Since I used the word "larn" up above, I'll give youse a wee joke that I heard from Benny Matthews, who ran a "tick" business in Lurgan from his musty oul' house and who travelled all over North Armagh collecting his weekly dues. From what I can mind, a daycent soul! (If ard mhacha's lurking aabout, he can confirm or not as the case may be.)
Anyway ... ahem (clears throat) ...
This wee butt of a fella, not two hands higher than a duck, is scuttlin' through Belfast's Central Station in an awful splutter tae get his train. The sort of a wee quiet fella that wouldn't say boo tae a goose, the swate blindin' him.
But he's in that much of a sud tae get his train, that he's not mindin' where he's goin' and if he doesn't only go full slap intae a big, brassy, gorgeous woman who's comin' the awr way!
The two of them go head over shite on tae the floor, yer man lightin' on top of this buxom, glamorous creature.
"Hi, there!" she shouts. "What do ye 'hink ye're up tae, ye wee strake of piss!"
Yer man's terribly embarrassed and doesn't know what tae say, so blathers out. "I'm awful sorry, love. I'm goin' tae Larne."
Yer woman appraises him with a steely glance, and with a disdainful sneer says "Well, you're not goin' tae l'arn on me!"