Spring (1914)
F. J. Newboult
Owd Winter gat notice to quit,
'Cause he'd made sich a pigsty o' t' place,
An' Summer leuked raand when he'd flit,
An' she says, I"t's a daanreyt disgrace!
Sich-like ways!
I niver did see sich a haase to come intul
i' all my born days!
But Spring says, "It's my job, is this,
I'll sooin put things streyt, niver fear.
Ye go off to t' Spaws a bit, Miss,
An' leave me to fettle up here!"
An' sitha!
Shoo's donned a owd appron, an' tucked up her sleaves,
an' set to, with a witha!
Tha can tell, when t' hail pelts tha like mad,
At them floors bides a bit of a scrub;
Tha knaws t' flegstuns mun ha' been bad,
When she teems(1) aat all t' wotter i' t' tub.
Mind thy eyes!
When shoo gets hod o' t' long brush an' sweeps aat them chamers,
I'll tell tha, t' dust flies!
Whol shoo's threng(2) tha'll be best aat o' t' gate(3):
Shoo'll care nowt for soft tawk an' kisses.
To tell her thy mind, tha mun wait
Whol shoo's getten things ready for t' missis.
When shoo's done,
Shoo'll doff her owd appron, an' slip aat i' t' garden,
an' call tha to come.
Aye, Summer is t' roses' awn queen,
An' shoo sits i' her state, grandly dressed;
But Spring's twice as bonny agean,
When shoo's donned hersen up i' her best
Gaan o' green,
An' stands all i' a glow,- wi' a smile on her lips
an' a leet i' her een.
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 cumulate 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 entitled
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
Nobbut 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 nobbut 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.