Chorus
I mill a bit, I till a bit,
I dee all maks ’o jobs,
Frae followin’ ploos and hollowin’ coos
To mendin’ chairs and squabs.[[1]]
Oh! folks they laugh and girn at me,
I niver tak it ill;
If I’s the Jack ’o ivery trade,
They all bring grist to t’ mill.
I tend my hunderd yakker farm,
An’ milk my Kyloe kye.
I’ve Lincoln yowes an’ Leicester tups
An’ twenty head ’o wye.[[2]]
I’ve stirks to tak to Scarbro’ mart,
I’ve meers for farmers’ gigs;
And oh! I wish that you could see
My laatle sookin’ pigs.
I mill a bit. ...
When summer days graws lang an’ breet,
Oot cooms my “Noah’s Arks,”
Wheer city folk undriss theirsels
An’ don my bathin’ sarks.[[3]]
An’ when they git on land agean,
I rub’ em smooth as silk;
Then bring’ em oot, to fill their weeams,
My parkin ceakes an’ milk.
I mill a bit. ...
I pike[[4]] stray timmer on the shore,
An’ cuvins[[5]] on the scar;
I know wheer crabs ’ll hugger up,[[6]]
I know wheer t’ lobsters are.
I’ve cobles fishin’ oot i’ t’ bay,
For whitings, dabs and cods,
I’ve herrin’ trawls and salmon nets,
I’ve hooks and lines and rods.
I mill a bit. ...
On darksome neets, back-end ’o t’ yeer,
I like another sport;
I row my boat wheer t’ lugger lies,
Coom frae some foreign port;
A guinea in a coastguard’s poke
Will mak him steck his een ;
So he says nowt when I coom yam
Wi’ scent and saccharine.
I mill a bit. ...
[1] Settles.
[2] Heifers.
[3] Shirts.
[4] Pick up.
[5] Periwinkles.
[6] Crowd together.
The Bride’s Homecoming
A weddin’, a woo,
A clog an’ a shoe,
A pot full o’ porridge; away we go!
A Yorkshire Wedding-Rhyme.