 | Poems, Ballads and Bucolics |  |
122
OLD TIMES.
I'se nobbut a middlinish creatur to-daäy, but how's thysen?
Straänge sight o' paäins in my back—now, Betsy, a cheëir fur the gent.
Coomed abowt Witches, hev ya? Tha mun knaw, when they dreäined the fen
A deal o' years sin' I can mind, the Witches and Jinny Wisps went.
Straänge sight o' paäins in my back—now, Betsy, a cheëir fur the gent.
Coomed abowt Witches, hev ya? Tha mun knaw, when they dreäined the fen
A deal o' years sin' I can mind, the Witches and Jinny Wisps went.
Not but what I wur glad, sewer-loy, that the Witches shud goä,
Fur I do beleäve owd Saätan was a'back of the whoale live lot.
But fwoaks i' them daäys was hoffens quoite turned, they wur frightened soä,
And now they goä scamperin' clear into hell reight lathery hot.
Fur I do beleäve owd Saätan was a'back of the whoale live lot.
But fwoaks i' them daäys was hoffens quoite turned, they wur frightened soä,
And now they goä scamperin' clear into hell reight lathery hot.
123
Theer was Harniss, the postin' boy, who nivver went near noä plaäce,
'E seeäd a corp-light burn, and it did 'im a sight o' good.
Our parson's man met a Witch or a Jinny Wisp faäce to faäce,
And 'e took to preaächin', 'e did, in the chapel down by the wood.
'E seeäd a corp-light burn, and it did 'im a sight o' good.
Our parson's man met a Witch or a Jinny Wisp faäce to faäce,
And 'e took to preaächin', 'e did, in the chapel down by the wood.
Yeës, odd uns wur good i' them daäys, they wasn't all solidly bad,
Tha knaws, if theer wasn't noäne good, the world wud coom to a hend,
And a few on 'em went oop o' Sunday, when my owd man wur a lad,
But they maäde sad work in God's House i' them toimes they cudn't intend—
Tha knaws, if theer wasn't noäne good, the world wud coom to a hend,
And a few on 'em went oop o' Sunday, when my owd man wur a lad,
But they maäde sad work in God's House i' them toimes they cudn't intend—
Didn't knaw better, poor things; why, I've seen my oän sen i' the choorch
Happles, and peärs, and taätes skelped down by the chanshel-wall,
Wool i' the gallery gethered, and lambs penned oop i' the poorch,
And milk teeämed owt 'i big tins, and the parson along ov it all.
Happles, and peärs, and taätes skelped down by the chanshel-wall,
Wool i' the gallery gethered, and lambs penned oop i' the poorch,
124
Naäy, I can't saäy what they meant by theer dooment, they called it tithes.
We wur all of us poor i' them toimes—not a fardin' to spend at the fairs.
Cooäls? theer wasn't noä cooäls, we baäked upo' peeät and dithes —
Cow-cassons roälled i' the sun and cutten i' nishtish squares.
We wur all of us poor i' them toimes—not a fardin' to spend at the fairs.
Cooäls? theer wasn't noä cooäls, we baäked upo' peeät and dithes —
Cow-cassons roälled i' the sun and cutten i' nishtish squares.
I' harvest men addled a shillin', but flour was six a stoäne,
Nivver yeät wheäten breäd 'cep' o' one daäy howt o' the seven:
Teä—it was not fur bairns, and we got neäther flesh nor boäne—
Squire's dinner o' Christmas daäy, was omoast like gooin to Heaven!
Nivver yeät wheäten breäd 'cep' o' one daäy howt o' the seven:
Teä—it was not fur bairns, and we got neäther flesh nor boäne—
Squire's dinner o' Christmas daäy, was omoast like gooin to Heaven!
But then, theer wur cows and commons! we hed milk to howr barley breäd.
Best part of the fens wur i' watter, and a deal o' wheät wasn't sown.
A reg'lar “Yaller-Belly” was my owd man as is deäd,
And he knawed, and I knawed when two haäcres o' wheät sarved Henderby Town.
125
A reg'lar “Yaller-Belly” was my owd man as is deäd,
And he knawed, and I knawed when two haäcres o' wheät sarved Henderby Town.
Commons? Yees, then theer wur commons, and waäste reight hoäver the wold.
Roots wur nowt, it wur rabbits, and menny a man i' the shire
Began low down upo' rabbits, and chaänged fro' silver to gold,
As but fur theer grey owd jackets 'ud nivver hev got noä 'igher.
Roots wur nowt, it wur rabbits, and menny a man i' the shire
Began low down upo' rabbits, and chaänged fro' silver to gold,
As but fur theer grey owd jackets 'ud nivver hev got noä 'igher.
But the poor got shotten like dogs! Oop theer o' Barrington Hill
They found a skeletin man with a hoäl i' his heäd, they saäy.
Fwoaks didn't knaw, but I knawed he'd gotten a leaden pill
Like scoors, along o' the rabbits; they sarved the poächers that waäy.
They found a skeletin man with a hoäl i' his heäd, they saäy.
Fwoaks didn't knaw, but I knawed he'd gotten a leaden pill
Like scoors, along o' the rabbits; they sarved the poächers that waäy.
126
Shot'im, and happed 'im oop; theer wasn't no paäpers then
To fuss; whoy, howr paäper was nowt but a feller as reightled the clocks,
Picked oop news as he went, and added a deäl hissen—
And mebbe his oän wur the best as fell from his chatterin' box.
To fuss; whoy, howr paäper was nowt but a feller as reightled the clocks,
Picked oop news as he went, and added a deäl hissen—
And mebbe his oän wur the best as fell from his chatterin' box.
Eh, luvvy! them toimes is chaänged—theer's nivver no gibbets now!
I can mind at Saucetripp Cross the last as they hing'd i' the chaäins,
And his poor owd feyther an' all as wur forced to foller the plow
I' the fieälds cloäs by, and the craws a-pickin' his oän son's braäins!
I can mind at Saucetripp Cross the last as they hing'd i' the chaäins,
And his poor owd feyther an' all as wur forced to foller the plow
I' the fieälds cloäs by, and the craws a-pickin' his oän son's braäins!
Theer's a deal o' talk oop o' the Sessions, o' taäkin' a 'aäpoth o' threäd,
Whoy stealin' 'ed used to be summat, but now theer's noäbody steäls!
A nichst fat yowe wur temptin' when the bairns were pinin' fur breäd,
Lor! fwoaks knaws nowt o' temptation as can look reight thruff to theer meäls.
Whoy stealin' 'ed used to be summat, but now theer's noäbody steäls!
A nichst fat yowe wur temptin' when the bairns were pinin' fur breäd,
Lor! fwoaks knaws nowt o' temptation as can look reight thruff to theer meäls.
127
It wasn't not oänly theer bellies wur pinched, theer backs wur cold,
And loike enuff poor things, fur the oänly stuff they cud git
Was the wool they cud scrat together, fro' the sheep walks oop o' the wold—
I hev spun a quarter myssen ov a night when the rushes wur lit.
And loike enuff poor things, fur the oänly stuff they cud git
Was the wool they cud scrat together, fro' the sheep walks oop o' the wold—
I hev spun a quarter myssen ov a night when the rushes wur lit.
But the poorest wur cleän i' them daäys, new fangledy ribbins wur dear,
We dressed oop o' winseys then, cleän kerchiefs and brats and smocks;
Nivver noa dallackments then but stuff as ud wesh and weear,
And nivver a gell but larned to whiten the Sunday frocks.
We dressed oop o' winseys then, cleän kerchiefs and brats and smocks;
Nivver noa dallackments then but stuff as ud wesh and weear,
And nivver a gell but larned to whiten the Sunday frocks.
Nat'ral sooäp we used, fur a “Linken Bar” cost a deäl,
It lathered like owt and rembled the clat and the spots o' greeäse,
We wur cleän fur sewerness i' them daäys, tho' hoffens we wanted a meäl,
And were proud as a mouse amoast ov a bit o' hoammaäde cheeäse.
It lathered like owt and rembled the clat and the spots o' greeäse,
We wur cleän fur sewerness i' them daäys, tho' hoffens we wanted a meäl,
And were proud as a mouse amoast ov a bit o' hoammaäde cheeäse.
128
Homespun? Yeës, yeës, i' them daäys, and now not a wheeäl to be seeän;
But, lor! if I hed a hemp-bunch I could still mebbe draw owt a line,
For we maäde owr oän aprons and sheeäts and bleeäched them milk-white i' the greeän,
Wattered and sunned them well, and the webs the finest o' fine.
But, lor! if I hed a hemp-bunch I could still mebbe draw owt a line,
For we maäde owr oän aprons and sheeäts and bleeäched them milk-white i' the greeän,
Wattered and sunned them well, and the webs the finest o' fine.
Tha knaw'st what it saäys i' the Word 'bowt Saätan a-rooärin' round,
And “mischief fur idle hands”; th' owd feller must haäte the spinnin';
Fur when lasses wur saäfe at hoäme, and twistin' theer quarter o' pound,
Theer was nowt o' nonsense at nights, noä time ya may saay fur sinnin'.
And “mischief fur idle hands”; th' owd feller must haäte the spinnin';
Fur when lasses wur saäfe at hoäme, and twistin' theer quarter o' pound,
Theer was nowt o' nonsense at nights, noä time ya may saay fur sinnin'.
But fur all that we hungered and scratted from light to the dark i' them daäys,
Theer wur fiddles and heëls and toäs i' the barn, when the barley wur got;
And the “Plough-Jags”
called o' Plough Munday, and we laughed fit to brost at theer plaäys,
And the queeär “Moddish Dancers” at Yule got caäkes and brown aäle spiced hot.
Theer wur fiddles and heëls and toäs i' the barn, when the barley wur got;
129
And the queeär “Moddish Dancers” at Yule got caäkes and brown aäle spiced hot.
But I've gotten a fit o' the gab, my dear, thou must 'scuse an owd tongue,
Fur an owd tongue 's nowt to doä but to clack o' the times gone past;
I was minded to tell o' the witches and wizards when I wur young,
Thou must call, and must set meä on witches ageän and howd meä fast.
Fur an owd tongue 's nowt to doä but to clack o' the times gone past;
I was minded to tell o' the witches and wizards when I wur young,
Thou must call, and must set meä on witches ageän and howd meä fast.
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