A few dialect poems by Cyril Ashurst AN OWD MARROW Yo'll happen hear some funny names Iv yo' traipse reawnd Lankysheer, Fer there's mony nicknames wot's bin gi'n To th' foalk wot come frum here. Yo' met hear o' th' Wiggin Porrers Who wur famous fer clog feightin', Er even th' Bowton Billies Weel known fer porrich eytin. Un iv yo' go deawn Howfen Yo'll allus hear it said, Us any mon wot comes frum yond's A gradely owd Keaw Yed. Neaw th' foalk us come frum Aspull Wur cawed 'moor poots' up yond, But they're often cawed another name Un it's one o' which Ah'm fond. We're known as th' Aspull Marrows Aw us lot yond fro' th' moor, It's a name wod Ah've grown up wi' Un it's one Ah luv fer sure. Neaw Aspull's near Wiggin, Thad owd teawn o' Lankysheer, Un Ah didn't hawf tek some ribbin' Everytime Ah went deawn theer. Fer th' lads us lived i' Wiggin Reawnd Scowse er theerabeawt Allus reckon't as Aspull Marrows Wur Wiggin lads wi' their brains porred eawt. Well Ah didn't mind their coddin' Un it didn't bother me, Fer Ah'm preawd to cum frum Aspull It's a gradely shop to me. Ah remember weel that greetin' Us Ah geet when a lad i' th' street, When one mon seed mi he used t'axe "Neaw Marrow, art awreet"? Well Ah'd allus answer him th' same road Un gi'e th' owd lad his due, Ah'd say, "Ah'm champion Marrow, Ah'm just o' mi road to th' skoo". Neaw Ah know Ah wurn't a scholer Like thoose lads ut Eton un Harrow, But there is one thing Ah've larn't i' life, Aye, Ah'm preawd to bi a Marrow. |
ASPULL SCENT. There's a shop on Aspull Moor yond Wheer Ah wark't when Ah left skoo, A cotton mill i' Dicconson Lane Just at th' bottom eend o' th' broo. Neaw Halliday and Constantines Wur th' name o' yon owd mill, But th' foalk as lived i' th' village Allus cawed it Dicky Mill. Course th' rayson it wur cawed that To th' locals wur weel known, Fer th' mill stood reet at th' eend o' th' street That they cawed Dicky Lone. Well one Frid'y when Owd Jem geet whom Their Joan wur gooin mad, "Thi jackbit's varnear cowd" her said, "Wheer asta bin owd lad". Jem said, "Ah've bin deawn Wiggin, Un a bob er two Ah've spent Fer Ah've trayted thi fer thi birthday To a bottle uv Aspull Scent". "A bottle uv Aspull Scent did't say, Ah've ne'er heerd o' that" said Joan, "Tha waint" Jem said, "Fer it's noan cawed that, It's cawed O'er Dicky Lone". |
