Yorkshire Dialect Poems Part 4

I can't bud think--thof I may be mistean Not monny on 'em 'll git back agean.

ROGER I think nut, w.i.l.l.y, bud some fowk 'll say, Oor English fleet let t' Franch ships git away, When they were laid, thou knaws, i' Bantry Bay; At(6) they could niver all have gien 'em t' slip, Bud t' English wanted nut to tak a ship.

w.i.l.l.y Eh! that's all lees!

ROGER I dinnot say it's true, It's all unknawn to sike as me an' you.

How do we knaw when fleets do reet or wrang?

I whope it's all on't fause, bud sea talks gang.

Howsiver this I knaw, at when they please, Oor sailors always beat 'em upo' t' seas.

An' if they n.o.bbut sharply look aboot, T'hey needn't let a single ship coom oat.

At least they'll drub 'em weel, I dinnot fear, An' keep 'em fairly off frae landin' here.

w.i.l.l.y I whope sea, Roger, bud, an' if they dea Coom owerr, I then shall sharpen my awd lea.(7) What thof(8) I can bud of a laatle boast, You knaw van wadn't hae that laatle lost.

I's send our Mally an' all t' bairns away, An' I misen 'll by the yamstead(9) stay.

I'll fight, if need; an' if I fall, why, then I's suffer all the warst mishap misen.

Was I bud seer my wife an' bairns were seafe, I then sud be to dee content eneaf.

ROGER Reet, w.i.l.l.y, mon, what an' they put us tea 't I will misen put forrad my best feat.(10) What thof I's awd, I's nut sae easily scar'd; On his awn midden an awd c.o.c.k fights hard.

They say a Franchman's torn'd a different man, A braver, better soldier, ten to yan.

Bud let the Franch be torn'd to what they will, They'll finnd at Englishmen are English still.

O' their awn grund they'll nowther flinch nor flee, They'll owther conquer, or they'll bravely dee.

1. Beasts, cattle. 2 Enclosure. 3. Besides.

4. Stir. 5. Surely. 6. That.

7. Scythe. 8. Though. 9. Homestead. 10 Foot.

Elegy on the Death of a Frog (1815)

David Lewis

Ya summer day when I were mowin', When flooers of monny soorts were growin', Which fast befoor my scythe fell bowin', As I advance, A frog I cut widout my knowin'-- A sad mischance.

Poor luckless frog, why com thoo here?

Thoo sure were dest.i.tute o' fear; Some other way could thoo nut steer To shun the gra.s.s?

For noo that life, which all hod dear, Is gean, alas!

Hadst thoo been freeten'd by the soond With which the mowers strip the groond, Then fled away wi' nimble boond, Thoo'd kept thy state: But I, unknawin', gav a wound, Which browt thy fate.

Sin thoo com frae thy parent sp.a.w.n, Wi' painted cooat mair fine than lawn, And golden rings round baith ees drawn, All gay an' blithe, Thoo lowpt(1) the fields like onny fawn, But met the scythe.

Frae dikes where winter watters steead(2) Thoo com unto the dewy mead, Regardless of the cattle's treead, Wi' pantin' breeath, For to restore thy freezin' bleead, But met wi' deeath.

A Frenchman early seekin' prog,(3) Will oftentimes ransack the bog, To finnd a sneel, or weel-fed frog, To give relief; But I prefer a leg of hog, Or roond o' beef.

But liker far to the poor frog, I's wanderin' through the world for prog, Where deeath gies monny a yan a jog, An' cuts them doon; An' though I think misen incog, That way I's boun.

Time whets his scythe and shakes his gla.s.s, And though I know all flesh be gra.s.s, Like monny mair I play the a.s.s, Don't seem to know; But here wad sometime langer pa.s.s, Befoor I go.

Ye bonnie la.s.ses, livin' flooers, Of cottage mean, or gilded booers, Possessed of attractive pooers, Ye all mun gang Like frogs in meadows fed by shooers, Ere owt be lang.

Though we to stately plants be grown, He easily can mow us doon; It may be late, or may be soon, His scythe we feel; Or is it fittin' to be known?

Therefore fareweel.

1. Leaped. 2. Stood.3. Food.

Sheffield Cutler's Song (1887)

Abel Bywater

Coom all you cutlin' heroes, where'ersome'er you be, All you what works at flat-backs,(1) coom listen unto me; A basketful for a shillin', To mak 'em we are willin', Or swap 'em for red herrin's, aar bellies to be fillin', Or swap 'em for red herrin's, aar bellies to be fillin'.

A baskitful o' flat-backs, I'm sure we'll mak, or more, To ger(2) reight into t' gallery, wheer we can rant an' roar, Throw flat-backs, stones an' sticks, Red herrin's, bones an' bricks, If they don't play "Nancy's fancy," or onny tune we fix, We'll do the best at e'er we can to break some o' their necks.

Hey! Jont, lad, where art ta waddlin' to?

Does ta work at flat-backs yit, as tha's been used to do?

Ha! coom, an' tha' s go wi' me, An' a sample I will gie thee, It's one at I've just forged upon Geoffry's bran-new stiddy.(3) Look at it well, it does excel all t' flat-backs i' aar smithy.

Let's send for a pitcher o' ale, lad, for I'm gerrin' varry droy, I'm ommost chok'd wi' smithy sleck,(4) the wind it is so hoigh.

Gie Rafe an' Jer a drop, They sen(5) they cannot stop, They're i' sich a moighty hurry to get to t' penny hop, They're i' sich a moighty hurry to get to t' penny hop.

Here's Steem at lives at Heeley, he'll soon be here, I knaw, He's larnt a new maccaroni step, the best you iver saw; He has it so complete, He troies up ivery street, An' ommost breaks all t' pavors(6) wi' swattin'(7) daan his feet.

An' Anak troies to beat him, wheniver they doon(8) meet.

We'll raise a tail by Sunda, Steem; I knaw who's one to sell, We'll tee a hammer heead at t' end to mak it balance well.

It's a reight new Lunnon tail, We'll wear it kale for kale,(9) Aar Anak browt it wi' him, that neet he coom by t' mail.

We'll drink success unto it--hey! Tout, lad, teem(10) aat t' ale.

1 Knives.2 Get. 3. Anvil. 4. Dust. 5. Say. 6. Paving Stones.

7. Hammering. 8. Do. 9. Turn and about. 10. Pour.

Address to Poverty

Anonymous

Scoolin' maid o' iron broo, Thy sarvant will address thee noo, For thoo invites the freedom By drivin' off my former friends, To leak to their awn private ends, Just when I chanc'd to need 'em.

I've had thy company ower lang, Ill-lookin' wean,(1) thoo must be wrang, Thus to cut short my jerkin.

I ken thee weel, I knaw thy ways, Thoo's awlus kept back cash an' claes, An' foorc'd me to hard workin'.