Yorkshire Dialect Poems Part 22

Sheffield Mumming Song(1)

Come all ye jolly mummers That mum in Christmas time.

Come join with us in chorus Come join with us in rhyme.

Chorus- And a-mumming we will go, we'll go, And a-mumming we will go ; With a white c.o.c.kade in all our hats, We'll go to t' gallant show.

It's of St. George's valour So loudly let us sing; An honour to his country And a credit to his King.

Chorus- And a-mumming we will go, we'll go, And a-mumming we will go ; We'll face all sorts of weather Both rain, cold, wet, and snow.

It's of the King of Egypt, That came to seek his son; It's of the King of Egypt, That made his sword so wan.

Chorus- And a-mumming, etc.

It's of the black Morocco dog That fought the fiery battle; It's of the black Morocco dog That made his sword to rattle.

Chorus- And a-mumming, etc.

1 From S. O. Addy, Sheffield Glossary (English Dialect Society Publications, vol. xxii. p. 153). The song is sung at Christmas time in the villages about Sheffield at the conclusion of the folkplay, "The Peace Egg." See S. O. Addy, Sheffield Glossary (English Dialect Society), p. 153.

Charms, "Nominies," and Popular Rhymes

Traditional

Wilful weaste maks weasome want, An' you may live to say: I wish I had that sharve(1) o' breead That yance I flang away.

1. Crust

A rollin' stone gethers no moss, A ram'lin' lad saves no bra.s.s; A whistlin' la.s.s an' a crowin' hen Will fotch t' devil oot o' his den.

Than awn a crawin' hen, I seaner wad t' awd divil meet, Hickity O, pickity O, pompolorum jig!

Or breed a whistlin' la.s.s, I seaner wad t' awd divil treat, Hickity O, pickity O, pompolorum jig!

Nowt bud ill-luck 'll fester where There craws an' whistles sike(1) a pair; May hens an' women breed nea mair.

Pompolorum jig.

1. Such.

Meeat maks, An' clease shaps, But that is nut t' man; For bonnie is that bonnie diz, Deny it if you can.

The Miller's Thumb

Miller, miller, mooter-poke, Teak a laid an' stale a stroke.(2)

2. Took a load of corn and stole a half-bushel; mooter, or multure, is the toll of meal taken by the miller for grinding the corn: mooter-poke, or multure-pocket, is accordingly a nickname for a miller.

Down i' yon lum(1) we have a mill, If they send more grist we'll grind more still.

With her broad arm an' mighty fist Shoo rams it into t' mooter-chist.(2)

1. Wood. 2. The chest in which the toll of meal was kept.

Hob-Trush Hob

"Hob-Trush Hob, wheer is thoo?"

"I's tryin' on my left-foot shoe, An' I'll be wi' thee--noo!"

Gin Hob mun hae nowt but a hardin' hamp, He'll co om nae mair nowther to berry nor stamp.(1)

1. The meaning seems to be, If Hob is allowed nothing more than a smock-frock of coa.r.s.e hemp, he will not come again either to thresh corn or to beat flax.

Nanny b.u.t.ton-Cap

T' moon shines breet, T' stars give leet, An' little Nanny b.u.t.ton-cap Will coom to-morra neet.

The New Moon

A Setterday's mean Cooms yance i' seven year ower sean.