Yorkshire Dialect Poems Part 15

To t' tips of her fingers shoo's wick.(4) Tha can see t' pulses beat i' her braa.

Tha can feel her soft breath comin' quick, An' it thrills tha-tha duzn't knaw haa.

When ye part, Them daffydaandillies shoo's kissed an' then gi'en tha--they'll bloom i' thy heart!

1. Pours. 2. Busy. 3 Way. 4. Alive.

Heam, Sweet Heam (1914)

A. C. Watson

When oft at neet I wanders heame To cosy cot an' busy deame, My hardest day's wark seems but leet, When I can get back heame at neet, My wife an' bairns to sit besaade, Aroond my awn bit firesaade.

What comfort there's i' steep(1) for me, A laatle prattler on my knee!

What tales I have to listen tea!

But just at fost there's sike to-dea As niver was. Each laatle dot Can fain agree for t' fav'rite spot.

Sike problems they can set for me 'T wad puzzle waaser heeads mebbe.

An' questions hawf a scoor they ask, To answer' em wad prove a task; For laatle thowts stray far away To things mysterious, oot o' t' way.

An' then sike toffer(2) they torn oot, An' pratty lips begin to poot, If iverything's nut stowed away To c.u.mulate frae day to day.

Sike treasures they could niver spare, But gether mair an' mair an' mair In ivery pocket. I've nea doot They've things they think the wo'ld aboot.

An' when their bed-taame's drawin' nigh, Wi' heavy heead an' sleepy eye, It's vary laatle din they mak, But slyly try a nap to tak.

An' when on t' lats(3) they've gone aboon, I fills my pipe an' sattles do on To have a comfortable smewk.

An' then at t' news I has a lewk; Or hods a bit o' talk wi' t' wife, The praade an' comfort o' my life.

Cawd winds may blaw, an' snaw-flakes flee, An' neets may be beath lang an' dree, Or it may rain an' rain agean, Sea lang as I've my day's wark dean, I wadn't swap my humble heame For bigger hoose or finer neame.

If all could as contented be, There'd be mair joy an' less mis'ry.

1. In store. 2. Odds and ends. 3. Laths.

Then an' Nae

E. A. Lodge

Privately printed by Mr. E. A. Lodge in a volume ent.i.tled Odds an' Ends (n. d.).

When I were but a striplin'

An' bare a scoor year owd, I thowt I'd gotten brains enew To fill all t' yeds(1) i' t' fowd.

I used to roor wi' laffin'

At t' sharpness o' my wit, An' a joke I made one Kersmiss Threw my nuncle in a fit.

I used to think my mother Were a hundred year behund; An' my father--well, my father n.o.bbut fourteen aence to t' pund.

An' I often turned it ovver, But I ne'er could fairly see Yaeiver(2) sich owd cronies Could hae bred a chap like me.

An' whene'er they went to t' market, I put my fillin's in; Whol my father used to stop me Wi' "Prithee, hold thy din.

"Does ta think we're n.o.bbut childer, Wi' as little sense as thee?

When thy advice is wanted, We'st axe thee, does ta see."

But they gate it, wilta, shalta, An' I did my levil best To change their flee-blown notions, Whol their yeds were laid to t' west.

This happened thirty year sin; Nae I've childer o' my own, At's gotten t' cheek to tell me At I'm a bit flee-blown.

1. Heads. 2. However.

Owd England

From Tykes Abrooad (W. Nicholson, Wakefield, 1911).

Walter Hampson.

Tha'rt welcome, thrice welcome, Owd England; It maks my een sparkle wi' glee, An' does mi heart gooid to behold thee, For I know tha's a welcome for me.

Let others recaant all thi failin's, Let traitors upbraid as they will, I know at thy virtues are many, An' my heart's beeatin' true to thee still.

There's a gladness i' t' sky at bends ower thee, There's a sweetness i' t' green o' thy gra.s.s, There's a glory i' t' waves at embrace thee, An' thy beauty there's naan can surpa.s.s.

Thy childer enrich iv'ry valley, An' add beauty to iv'ry glen, For tha's mothered a race o' fair women, An' true-hearted, practical men.

There's one little spot up i' Yorkshire, It's net mich to crack on at t' best, But to me it's a kingdom most lovely, An' it holds t' warmest place i' my breast.

Compared wi' that kingdom, all others Are worthless as bubbles o' fooam, For one thing my rovin' has towt me, An' that is, there's no place like hooam.

I know there'll be one theer to greet me At's proved faithful through many dark days, An' little feet runnin' to meet me, An' een at(1) howd love i' their gaze.

An' there's neighbours both hooamly an' kindly, An' mates at are wor'thy to trust, An' friends my adversity's tested, At proved to be generous an' just.

An' net far away there's green valleys, An' greeat craggy, towerin' hills, An' breezes at mingle their sweetness Wi' t' music o' sparklin' rills; An' meadows all decked wi' wild-flaars, An' hedges wi' blossom all white, An' a blue sky wheer t' skylark is singin', Just to mak known his joy an' delight.

Aye, England, Owd England! I love thee Wi' a love at each day grows more strong; In my heart tha sinks deeper an' deeper, As year after year rolls along; An' spite o' thy faults an' thy follies, Whativer thy fortune may be, I' storm or i' sunshine, i' weal or i' woe, Tha'll allus be lovely to me.

May thy sons an' thy dowters live happy, An' niver know t' woes o' distress; May thy friends be for iver increeasin', An' thy enemies each day grow less.

May tha niver let selfish ambition Dishonour or tarnish thy swoord, But use it alooan agean despots Whether reignin' at hooam or abrooad.

1. That.

Love and Pie

J. A. Carill

From Woz'ls Humorous Sketches and Rhymes in the East Yorkshire Dialect (n. d.).

Whin I gor hoired et Beacon Farm a year last Martinmas, I fund we'd gor a vory bonny soort o' kitchen la.s.s; And so I tell'd her plooin' made me hungry--thot was why I awlus was a laatle sthrong on pudden and on pie.