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 grass,
There's a glory i' t' waves at embrace thee,
An' thy beauty there's naan can surpass.
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 lass;
And so I tell'd her plooin' made me hungry—thot was why
I awlus was a laatle sthrong on pudden and on pie.
And efther thot I thowt the pie was, mebbe, middlin' large,
And so I ate it for her sake—theer wasn't onny charge;
Until it seems t' missus asked her rayther sharply why
She awlus used t' biggest dish for pudden and for pie.
I wasn't mich of use, ye knaw, et this here fancy talkin',
She had no chance o' goin' oot for armin' it and walkin'.
But thin I knawed I gor her love whin I could see t' pies;
I knawed her thowts o' me were big by bigness o' their size.
The pies and gell I thowt thot geed,(1) they hardlins could be beaten,
She knawed I'd awlus thowts on her by way t' pies were eaten;
Until it seems t' missus asked her rayther sharply why
She awlus used t' biggest dish for pudden and for pie.
Noo just thoo wait a bit and see; I'm only thod-lad(2) noo,
I moight be wagoner or hoind within a year or two;
And thin thoo'll see, or I'm a cauf, I'll mak 'em ring choch bell,
And carry off et Martinmas yon prize-pie-makkin' gell.
And whin thoo's buyin' coats and beats(3) wi' wages thot ye take,
It's I'll be buyin' boxes for t' laatle bits o' cake;
And whin I've gar a missus ther'll be no more askin' why
She awlus gers oor biggest dish for pudden and for pie.
1. Good. 2. Third lad on the farm. 3. Boots.
I's Gotten t' Bliss (1914)
George H. Cowling
I's gotten t' bliss o' moonten-tops to-neet,
Thof I's i' bondage noo, an' blinnd an' deeaf.
Brethren, I's stoun(1)! an' fand it varry sweet,
Sea strike my neame off, if't be your belief
I's slidin' back.
Last neet, as I were shoggin'(2) on up t' street,
I acted t' thief.
Ye think I's hardened. Ay! I see ye lewvk.
I stell't,(3) it's true; bud, brethren, I'll repay.
I'll pay back ten-foad iverything I tewk,
An' folks may say whate'er they like to say.
It were a kiss,
An' t' lass has promised iv oar ingle-newk
To neame t' day.
1. Stolen. 2. Jogging 3. Stole.
A Natterin' Wife
George H. Cowling
The parson, the squire an' the divil
Are troubles at trouble this life,
Bud each on em's dacent an' civil
Compared wi' a natterin'(1) wife.
A wife at mun argie an' natter,
She maks a man's mortal life hell.
An' that's t' gospel-truth o' t' matter,
I knaws, 'cause I's got yan misel.
1. Nagging.