This survival, not entirely obsolete in England, is commonly met with in the U.S. and in Upper Canada, having been introduced perhaps from the north of Ireland. As late as 1717–8 the word was rimed with relief by Prior and Watts. (N.E.D.)
1824.
| I went close to one gal, an’ axt her | |
| How much she should tax me ’er leaf; | |
| I’ll be choak’d if she’d give any answer; | |
| I tell’d her I guess’d she was deaf. | |
Woodstock (Vt.) Observer, Feb. 24: from the Brattleboro’ Messenger. |
1825. “Is that female deaf—are you quite sure of it?”… “Yes—perfectly deef;—hears nothin’ but her child, I believe.”—John Neal, ‘Brother Jonathan,’ i. 301.
1833. Here I am, sir—lowering his voice, I ain’t deef, sir.—Who said you was?—John Neal, ‘The Down Easters,’ i. 94.
1848. “Mr. Badger must be a werry deef’un,” said a mariner on liberty.—Durivage and Burnham, ‘Stray Subjects,’ p. 48 (Phila.).
1858. He might have been as ‘deefe’ as a post, it seems to us, without greatly affecting his preaching.—Knick. Mag., lii. 428 (Oct.).
1896. What’s that you say, mother? You’re a-goin’ to do what? I reckon I’m a-goin’ a little deef.—Ella Higginson, ‘Tales from Puget Sound,’ p. 68.
