Poems and Lancashire Songs :: :: University of Virginia Library

246

EAWR FOLK.

I

Er Johnny gi's his mind to books;
Er Abram studies plants,—
He caps the dule for moss an' ferns,
An grooin' polyants;
For aught abeawt mechanickin',
Er Ned's the very lad;
My uncle Jamie roots i'th stars,
Enough to drive him mad.

247

II

Er Alick keeps a badger's shop,
An teyches Sunday schoo';
Er Joseph's welly blynt, poor lad:
Er Timothy's—a foo;
He's tried three different maks o' trades,
An' olez missed his tip;
But, then, he's th' prattist whistler
That ever cock'd a lip!

III

Er Matty helps my mother, an'
Hoo sews, an' tents er Joe;
At doin' sums, an' sich as that,
My feyther licks 'em 'o;

248

Er Charley,—well,—there connot be
Another pate like his,—
It's o' crom-full o' ancientry,
An' Roman haw-pennies!

IV

Er Tummy's taen to preitchin',—
He's a topper at it, too;
But then,—what's th' use—er Bill comes in,
An' swears it winnot do;
When t'one's bin strivin' o' he con
To awter wicked men,
Then t'other mays some marlocks, an'
Convarts 'em o'er again.

249

V

Er Abel's th' yung'st; an'—next to Joe,—
My mother like's him t' best:
Hoo gi's him brass, aboon his share,
To keep him nicely drest;—
He's gettin' in wi' th' quality,—
An' when his clarkin's done,
He's olez oather cricketin',
Or shootin' wi' a gun.

VI

My Uncle Sam's a fiddler; an'
I fain could yer him play
Fro' set o' sun till winter neet
Had melted into day;

250

For eh,—sich glee—sich tenderness—
Through every changin' part,
It's th' heart that stirs his fiddle,—
An' his fiddle stirs his heart!

VII

An', when he touches th' tremblin'-streng,
It knows his thowt so weel,
It seawnds as if an angel tried
To tell what angels feel;
An', sometimes, th' wayter in his e'en
That fun has made to flow,
Can hardly roll away, afore
It's blent wi' drops o'woe.

VIII

Then, here's to Jone, an' Ab, an' Ned,
An' Matty,—an' er Joe,—

251

An', my feyther, an' my mother; an'
Er tother lads an' o';
An' thee, too, owd musicianer,—
Aw wish lung life to thee,—
A mon that plays a fiddle weel
Should never awse to dee!

Caps the dule, beats the devil, or excels the devil.

Grooin' polyants, cultivating the polyanthus.

Roots i'th stars, studies astronomy.

A badger's shop, a grocer's shop.

Teyches Sunday schoo', teaches in a Sunday school.

Welly blynt, well-nigh blind.

Maks, makes, shapes, kinds.

Missed his tip, missed his aim, broken down.

Prattist, prettiest, most pleasing.

Tents er Joe, takes care of our Joe.

Crom-full o' ancientry, cram-full of antiquarian lore.

Roman haw-pennies, Roman half-pennies, Roman coins.

Taen to preitchin', taken to preaching, become a preacher.

When t'one's bin strivin' o' he con, when the one has been striving all he can.

T'other mays some marlocks, the other makes some frolics.

Hoo gi's him brass aboon his share, she gives him more money than his share.

He's gettin' in wi' th' quality, he is becoming acquainted with people in high life.

Olez oather, always either.

Aw fain could yer him play, I gladly could listen to his playing.

Th' tremblin' streng, the vibrating fiddle-string.

Thowt, thought.

Th' wayter in his e'en, the water in his eyes.

Should never awse, should never attempt.