821 
 
OF THE 
 U N I VLR5 ITY 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 821 
 
LANCASHIRE RHYMES: 
 
 OK, 
 
 HOMELY PICTURES OP THE PEOPLE. 
 
 BY SAMUEL LAYCOCK. 
 
 " Let the venal bard flatter, and coiirt the caress 
 Of *the minions of splendour who shiink from distress,' 
 Let him turn from the lowly, and shut from his songs. 
 Their faith and affections, their rights and their wrongs ; 
 Let him cling to the mighty, and flutter his liour 
 In the warm smiles of plenty, the sunshine of power ; 
 Be mine the proud duty to weave at command, 
 A song for the poor of my own fatherland." 
 
 John Critciilev F'iinc i:. 
 
 LONDON: SIMPiaN, MARSHALL AND CO. 
 MANCHESTER : J. HEYWOOD. 
 
MANCHESTER t PRINTED BY JOHN HEYWOOD, 143, DEANSGATE. 
 
n\ 
 
 OF GROBY LODGE, ASHTOP^-UNDER-LYNE, 
 
 JUSTICE OF THE PEACE, AND DEPUTY-LIEUTENANT FOR XllK 
 COUNTY OP LANCASTER, 
 
 A FRIEND TO EDUCATION, 
 
 AND THE ADVANCEMENT OF THE BEST INTERESTS OF THE 
 WORKING CLASSES, 
 
 EVER READY TO ENCOURAGE AND DIRECT THEIR ASPIRATIONS 
 TO ALL THAT IS GOOD AND GREAT, 
 
 THESE HOMELY KHYMES 
 
 Of the "Folk Lore" of Industrious Lancashire, 
 
 ARE VERY RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED BY 
 
 SC^e giutbor. 
 
 3 099153 
 
PEEFACE. 
 
 The tact that nearly 40,000 copies of these " Rhymes" have been 
 disposed of in single sheets has induced the Author to collect 
 them together into one volume. 
 
 In this foim he trusts they may be acceptable to a large 
 circle of readers, amongst whom the sheets have never circulated. 
 What has been valued and approved in the separate parts will' 
 he trusts, be still more appreciated as a w^hole ; and he feels 
 persuaded that the readers and reciters of the songs, as they 
 have|appeared, will-hail w4th entire satisfaction their publication 
 in a neat volume. 
 
 These " Rhymes" forming a series of " Homely Pictures," 
 descriptive of the habits and manners of a large and industrious 
 section of the population, may also, as the Author trusts, have 
 some value even to the Philologist, and the lovers of Word 
 LoreJ generally, as indicating the use of many current coins" 
 of speech 'in the Dialects of Lancashire and Cheshire. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 A writer on this subject remarks that the Folk-Lore and 
 Dialectic songs and compositions of any neighbom-hood are as 
 some of ihe organizations in Wales, such as the Eisteddfod, &c., 
 the great conservators of those primitive elements of a people's 
 vernacular, which would otherwise gradually pass into oblivion. 
 
 Many of the " Ehymes," having been composed during the 
 long prevalent distress in the Cotton Manufacturing Districts, 
 naturally bear reference to that sad crisis, and will form a 
 memento of thoughts and feelings, and grateful affections 
 awakened in the minds and hearts of the operatives in that 
 season of painful privation, which we trust is now gradually 
 passing away. 
 
 As an humble contribution from a Son of Toil, the Author 
 hopes that it may both commend itself to the intelligent and 
 observant, and command their support and interest in its 
 circulation. • 
 
 The volume contains several Glossarial Notes, kindly furnished 
 by the Rev. James Malcolmson, Senior Curate, of St. John's, 
 Dukinfield. 
 
TO 
 
 SAMUEL LAYCOCK, LANCASHIRE POET, 
 BY JOHN CRITCHLEY PRINCE. 
 
 Refrain not from singing thy Lancashire songs, 
 
 So homely, and hearty, and true ; 
 Thy themes are the people, whose rights and whose wrongs 
 
 Thou hast faithfully kept in thy view ; 
 Their rough, random manners, their freedom of speech. 
 
 Thou hast chanted us many a time, 
 Hast laboured to cheer them, and striven to teach 
 
 By lessons of sensible rhyme. 
 
 A Shakspere may paint us the passions of men, 
 
 A Milton draw visions divine, 
 But a Lancashire Poet may profit us, when 
 
 The will and the power combine ; 
 And thou hast done manfully, shown that thy mind 
 
 Is glowing with Poesy's fire. 
 Then let thy effusions flow out unconfined. 
 
 The yoice of a genuine lyre. 
 
TRIBUTARY STANZAS, 
 
 'Mid the haunts of the lowly thy pictures are found, 
 
 And many are waiting for thee ; 
 That thou may'st describe them in musical sound, 
 
 In language terse, truthful and free. 
 Some manner eccentric, some strangeness of mien, 
 
 Some wildness of word or of thought, 
 Thou can'st catch as thou passest, and let it be seen 
 
 In thy lyrics, so truthfully wrought. 
 
 Some day, when thy muse has grown weary of these, 
 
 Thou may'st let her take loftier flight. 
 And freshen her pinions, free as the breeze, 
 
 In holier regions of light. 
 Perchance thou may'st master some exquisite theme 
 
 To win the w^orld's gladsome acclaim, 
 And the song thou hast uttered be honoured, and seem 
 
 A voice from the trumpet of Eame. 
 
 Sing on then, and fearlessly, truthfully, too, 
 
 Let the gifts of thy genius flow, 
 Till the multitude hail thee with hearty halloo, 
 
 And strangers be eager to know : 
 To know thee and honour thee, striving the while 
 
 To brighten thy onward career, 
 That the wise may exclaim, looking on with a smile, 
 
 " Behold a true Poet is here I" 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Th' Village Pedlar 1 
 
 Toot Passengers Keep to the Right. 5 
 
 A Little Bit o' Boath Sides — 1st part lo 
 
 „ „ „ 2nd „ 15 
 
 Pray in' Jemmy 20 
 
 Mally an' Jonas 24 
 
 There's no Good i' Ceaw'rin i' th' Dust 26 
 
 Aw've Hard Wark to Howd up mi Yed 34 
 
 Th' Courtin' Neet— 1st part 38 
 
 „ 2nd „ occ 42 
 
 Th' Shurat Weaver's Song 46 
 
 God Bless 'em it shows They'n some Thowt 51 
 
 It's Hard to Ceawer i' th' Chimney Nook : w.. 55 
 
 Sewin' Class Song 60 
 
 Aw've turned mi' bit o' Garden o'er 66 
 
 Th' All England Eleven an' th' Ashun Chaps 70 
 
 Lines read before the Members of the Stalybridge Mechanics' 
 Institution, on Saturday evening, September 12, 1863... 74 
 
 An Address to "Dickie " 79 
 
 Owd Eogey 83 
 
 A Peep at " Daisy Nook " 88 
 
 Thee an' Me 93 
 
 Aw dunno know what we're to do wi' eawr Jim 98 
 
 What's Up wi Thee Tum ? 102 
 
 Welcome Bonny Brid 107 
 
fit' miim ^^^H 
 
 ^SrH' village pedlar's a jovial owd brick, 
 
 ^^J' A merchant o' great local fame ; 
 
 He goes trudgiii' areawiid wi' liis basket an' sticky 
 
 An' a few useful things aw'll just name. 
 He's needles, an' bodkins, an' thread, 
 
 An' buttons, an bobbins, an' tape. 
 An' hair-pins for lasses to stick i' their yead, 
 
 To keep their hak nicely i' shape. 
 
.2 th' village pedlae. 
 
 n. 
 
 He'H wursted a haup'ny a bo, 
 
 Blue-peawder, an' furniture paste, 
 An' capital mustard i' packets an' o', 
 
 If yo' think it's noan good yo' can taste. 
 Neaw til' owd pedlar ne'er gets eawt o' tune, 
 
 Tho' he's bother'd wi' o sorts o' foallv ; 
 Iv they vex him a bit, he forgets again soon, 
 
 An' passes it off as a joke. 
 
 III. 
 
 He's carried his basket so long, 
 
 Tiiat at last it's become like a charm ; 
 An' lie'll tell yo' he feels as if summat Avur wrong, 
 
 If he hasn't it hung on his arm. 
 E'en at church on a Sunday, awm towd, 
 
 \rhen his mind should be free fro' sich cares, 
 He's o' ov a shiver, his arm feels so cowd, 
 
 For th' want ov his basket an' wares. 
 
TPl' VILLAGE PEDLAIi. 
 
 IV. 
 
 He's a christian i'th 'spite ov o' this, 
 
 Oh, awve often yeard th' owcl fellow tell 
 That he thowt he could boast o' moor genuine bliss 
 
 Than even eawr Queen could hersel'. 
 Earthly jewels one sees up an' deawn, 
 
 He will tell yo' must crumble to dust ; 
 But he's livin' i' hopes o' possessin' a creawn, 
 
 At'U nother turn faded nor rust. 
 
 Owd pedlar, aw wish aw wur poor, 
 
 Trampin' reawnd wi' a basket an' wares ; 
 Leavin' blackin' an' blessin's at every one's door, 
 
 An' tryin' to leeten foalk's cares. 
 When tha claps deawn thi basket to dee, 
 
 Whot a gloom will be felt o' areawnd ! 
 Hot tears '11 stond tremblin' i' mony a one's e'e, 
 
 As tliey lower thi body i'th' greawnd. 
 
4 
 
 th' village pedlar. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Th' little cliilder' 'at loved thee so dear, 
 
 To that spot where tha'rt buried will throng, 
 An' they'll say, wi' sad looks, "Th' owd pedlar lies here, 
 
 Come, let's sing him a noice little song." 
 Then they'll deck thi' green grave wi' wild fleawers, 
 
 Pat it closer to keep thee reet warm ; 
 An' say, as they leave thee alone a few heawers,, 
 
 Bless th' owd fellow, he's tackin no harm !" 
 
OAK tell us there's sarmons i' stones : 
 Excuse me for bein' so bowel, 
 But aw'm just o' tli' same mind as Tom Jones, 
 
 'At such sarmons as thoose '11 feel cowd. 
 This o' mine, tho' it's noan o' th' first stamp, 
 
 Is as good as this heart can indite ; 
 Mi text, taen fro' th' post oy a lamp. 
 
 Is, — "Foot passengers, keep to the right." 
 
6 FOOT PASSENaEES, KEEP TO THE RIGHT. 
 II. 
 
 An' farstly, aw'd ha' yo' beware 
 
 0' that dandy 'at's struttin' through th' street : 
 For he mak's more ado oy his hair, 
 
 Than he does ov his brains, a fine seet ! 
 There's words o' deceit on his tongue. 
 
 Calculated fair prospects to blight ; 
 If yo' tread i' his steps you'll be wrong, 
 
 Young fellows ! keep on to the right. 
 
 III. 
 
 Let the standard yo' go by be true, 
 
 Measure man by his mind, not his purse ; 
 There's mony a great squire 'at's a foo' 
 
 An' a drunken foo' too, an' that's worse. 
 We'n rich men areawnd one coukl name. 
 
 Who are hurried whoam drunk every night ; 
 That's no reason why yo' should do th' same, 
 
 Foot passengers, keep to the right. 
 
FOOT PASSENGERS, KEEP TO THE RIGHT. 7 
 
 lict your motives be upright an' pure, 
 
 Proceedin' fro' hearts fill'd wi' love ; 
 Extend your kind acts to the poor, 
 
 KSeek wisdom an' help fro' above. 
 To lead foalk to virtue an' God, 
 
 Exert o' your influence an' might. 
 Bid 'em guard against fashion's smooth road, 
 
 Ask 'em kindly to keep to the right. 
 
 Keep eawt o' thoose man-traps, mi boys, 
 
 Th' "Pig an' Whistle," th' "Black Horse," an" 
 th' "Blue Bell," 
 They're nobbut owd Satan's fawse toys, 
 
 To beguile, an' allure yo' to hell ! 
 Oh ! as long as yo' toddle through th' world, 
 
 Mak' the law o' the Lord your delight ; 
 Let th' chart o' God's truth be unfurl'd. 
 
 It'll point yo' an' keep yo' to th' right. 
 
8 FOOT PASSENGERS, KEEP TO THE RIGHT. 
 VI. 
 
 Th' owcl Tempter '11 come wi' his wiles, 
 
 To prevent yo' fro' clioosiii' tli' reet track ; 
 Never heed his fine coaxin' an' smiles, 
 
 But, like Jesus, just tell him t' stond back. 
 I' th' strait narrow way allis tread, 
 
 Should yo' live till your locks are grown white ; — 
 Hoary hairs '11 be th' creawn o' your yead, 
 
 Iv yo'll mind an' keep on to the right. 
 
 VII. 
 
 When dark cleawds o' adversity come, 
 
 An' hang o'er your yead like a pall, 
 Keep an anxious look eawt for your whoam, 
 
 An' be ready, your Master will call ! 
 When your sky is o' cloudless an' clear, 
 
 When your prospects are hopeful an' bright. 
 Beware ! for a storm may be near ; 
 
 Be cautious, an' keep to the right. 
 
FOOT PASSENGERS, KEEP TO THE RIGHT. 
 
 YIII. 
 
 When death your last summons shall bring, 
 
 An' tells yo' t' pack up an' begone, 
 Yo' can calmly, resignedly sing 
 
 " Tha'rt welcome, reet welcome owd mon !" 
 Oh, heaw th' angels i' heaven will rejoice 
 
 That moment your soul ta'es its flight ; 
 An' you'll hear Christ's own welcomin' voice, 
 
 " Come up hither my friend to the right !" 
 
Mitik lit a' ioatit ^utes. 
 
 FIRST PART. 
 I. 
 
 E'S just com'nwhom fuddelt again, 
 Aw raley do wish aw wur dead ; 
 For awm sick o' sich low drunken men, 
 
 An' awm sure there's none wur nor ewar Ned 
 For he spends nearly o' he can get, 
 
 Awm as fast just this heawr as a thief ; 
 O' ewar cubbarts an' drawers are to let, 
 And aw've just sent ewar Bet for relief. 
 
A LITTLE BIT o' BOATH SIDES. 
 
 As for good decent cloas, we're o beawt, 
 
 An' we'n nowt to put on but owdrags ; 
 Aw feel gradely shawm't to turn eawt, 
 
 That aw do, if it's nobbut deawn th' flags. 
 An' he knows heaw wi are very weel, 
 
 But he's getten soa hard'n'd wi' th' drink. 
 That it's (feawt o' his natur' to feel ; — 
 
 He'll go mad yet, aw mony a time think. 
 
 When he comes into th' heawse oy a neet, 
 
 He ceawers loike a pig upo' th' floor ; 
 0 aw wish he'd ger eawt o' mi seet, 
 
 An' never come near me no moor. 
 Yo' ma' think a^vm a hard-hearted woife, 
 
 An' tell me awm sadly to blame, 
 But awm reet wearied eawt o' mi loife. 
 
 0 ewar nayburs '11 tell yo' just th' same. 
 
12 
 
 A LITTLE BIT O' BOATH SIDES. 
 
 Look ! he ceawers with his yed up o' th' ob, 
 
 For a pillow he's getten his cap ; 
 An' his face is as black as a cob, 
 
 Dear o' me neaw ! v/hatever's yon rap ? 
 It's lon'lord ; he's comin' for th' rent, 
 
 But wi have n't a farthin' i' th' hole ; 
 Th' last three-hau'pence aw had, aw' ye just spent 
 
 In a quarter of a hundert o' coal. 
 
 " Howd on lass, aw've sum' at to say, 
 
 Neaw tha'rt throwin' o' th' blame upo' me ; 
 Aw know aw've bin drinkin' to-day, 
 
 But aw blame nob'dy for it but thee. 
 Aw've noan bin a spreein' for nowt, 
 
 Tho' awm willin' to own aw've done wrong, 
 For iv th' truth mun be towd, as it owt, 
 
 Tha's done it thiscl,' wi' thi tongue. 
 
A LITTLE BIT O' BOATH SIDES. 
 
 13 
 
 Tha knows 'at tlia's scores o' times said, 
 
 'At a sup o' whom-brew'cl would do good ; 
 An' tha's tried, ever sin' we we'rn wed, 
 
 To mak whom a hell if tha could. 
 When aw come whom at neet fro' mi wark, 
 
 Aw can hardly get in at ewar door ; 
 An' tha's th' heawse very oft o i' th' dark, 
 
 An' th' wesh tub an' th' cloas o' on th' floor. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Aw know very weel awm a foo'. 
 
 And aw know we'n no bread upo' th' shelf ; 
 But aw know this, an' soa does tha too, 
 
 Tha's been th' cause o' this misery thiself. 
 When aw put that gowTl ring o' thy hand, 
 
 An' those lips wur first press'd wi' a kiss, 
 Does tha think aw intended to stand 
 
 A drunken owd toper like this ? 
 
14 A LITTLE BIT O' BOATH SIDES. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Nowt o' til' soart ; but aw tell thi what woife, 
 
 This longin' for drink is so strong, 
 Aw shall soon put an end to mi loife, 
 
 Aw shall noan be i' th' road on thee long. 
 Let me beg on thee, ere aw give up, 
 
 That when this poor owd carcase shall dee, 
 Tha'll ne'er ax another to sup 
 
 0' that drink that's bin th' ruin o' me." 
 
% %\iik lit a* iuath ^itlfi5. 
 
 SECOND PAET. 
 
 I. 
 
 ^^[^E'S just sign'd teetotal, ewar John, 
 
 Awm as preawd as aw wur when aw're wed, 
 Why, to see him a reet decent mon 
 
 Welley mak's me feel wrung i' mi yed. 
 If til' lad brings o his wage wi him whom. 
 
 Aw shall hardly know what to do weet, 
 Hut awm wantin' it sadly to come, 
 
 Aw wish it wur th' reckonin' to nect. 
 
16 
 
 A LITTLE BIT O' BOATH SIDES. 
 
 II. 
 
 Aw wonder what tli' naybnrs '11 think, 
 
 When thi seen mi new bonnet an' cap ; 
 Avv fancy Jane Gnzzle '11 wink 
 
 An' tell Margit aw've had 'em on th' strap. 
 They'll be letten in rarely, bi' th' mass, 
 
 If they think aw can 'ford nowt bur rags ; 
 An' they'll stare wi boath een when aw pass, 
 
 (Yond's John, bless yo, comin' up tli' flags.) 
 
 III. 
 
 Well, tha'rt here lad, aw thowt it wur thee, 
 
 But tha looks gradely teighert an' weet. 
 An' tha'rt getten weel starved, dear o' me, 
 
 Slip these warm carpet shoon o' thi feet. 
 Awm thinkin' heaw th' butcher '11 stare 
 
 When aw go deawn to th' shop for some beef, 
 He'll tell me he's getten nowt t' spare. 
 
 For he'll think as aAvm gone for relief. 
 
A LITTLE BIT O' BOATII SIDES. 
 
 What's th' owcl idle lon'lord to do, 
 
 Neaw tha'rt given up callin' at th' "Swan" 
 They'll be gradely surprised deawn at th' "Q' 
 
 When they yearn tha'rt a free sober man. 
 Thi fayther, he will be some glad, 
 
 An' th' owd woman too, when hoo's tow^d ; 
 But awm sure tha'rt reet hungry, mi lad, 
 
 Get thi baggin, thi tay '11 be cowd. 
 
 There's a bit o' nice toast there o' th' hob, 
 
 Tha can put sugar in for thisel', 
 (But aw feel a^vm' neglectin' mi job. 
 
 For mi loaves are beginnin' to smell). 
 Neaw tha'm reach to an' get what tha needs, 
 
 There's some sallary, see, an some saut. 
 An' a loaf upo' th' shelf mix'd wi' seeds. 
 
 If tha'rt short it'll be thi own faut. 
 
18 A LITTLE BIT O' BOATH SIDES. 
 
 VI. 
 
 " There's plenty mi lass, an' to spare, 
 
 An awm sure it o' looks very nice ; 
 Awni so pleased, if tlia'U nobbut come here, 
 
 Aw'll kiss them sweet lips o' thine twice. 
 Where's ewar lads ? are they o' gone to bed ? 
 
 Hast' lapp'd a warm sheet reawnd their feet ? 
 Tlia'm be careful a bit wi ewar Ned, 
 
 An tha'U see lass he'll soon get o' reet. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Will t' just reach me th' taypot this way, 
 
 An' teem mi a drop i' mi cup, 
 Foi" tha knows 'at awm fond o' mi tay, 
 
 'Hallo here, aw w^onder wdiat's up I 
 Aw could do nowt at o' beawt a woife, 
 
 Aw^ should soon be as fast as a witL'b, 
 See thi here, aw've a brace button off. 
 
 Reach thi needle an' give it a stitch. 
 
A LITTLE BIT O' BOATH SIDES. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 There's mi halladay shurt i' th' owd chest, 
 
 Aw shall want it o' Sunday does't know ; 
 Tha mun make it reet nice abeawt th' breast, 
 
 Starch th' neck weel, an' th' wrist bands an' o'. 
 For Turner, an' Stansfield, an' Birch, 
 
 Are for calling o' me an' ewar Ned ; 
 Tha may stare, but we're o' beawn to th' church. 
 
 Bless me lass, aw ne'er bin sin aw'rn wed !" 
 
S aw'm passin' a "little heawse" corner one day,, 
 (Neaw it's feawnded on facts what awve getten 
 to say.) 
 
 Aw yeard a lad prayin', an' tellin' the Lord 
 
 He hadn't bm faithful and true to His word. 
 
 His ideas wur so childlike, aw couldn't but smile, 
 
 As he said "Mi poor fayther's bin deod a gi^eat while z 
 
 Awve getten noa clogs, nother here nor awhoam ; 
 
 An' my mother's a bustian at th' end ov her thumb : 
 
PRAYIN JEMMY. 
 
 21 
 
 Hoo's lapped it wi' rags, an' hoo's rubb'd it wi' sawve, 
 But it makes her noa better, but Grosser bi tli' liawve. 
 Aw happened to touch it one neet wi' mi yed, 
 An' hoo towd me t'lie still, or else get emvvt o' bed. 
 Poor mother ! hoo's pained till hoo connot abide, 
 A.n's lots o' times ceawer'd up i' th' neet time an' cried. 
 
 II. 
 
 Whenever we've meat, sicli as bacon or pork. 
 Mi sister gets howd on't because hoo has t' work. 
 Tha said tha'd a father to th' fatherless be, 
 An' tha's ne'er sent a hau'pney nor nowt yet to me ; 
 We'd some broth t'other Sunday it's true we had given, 
 But these wur soa thin they wur ne er made i' heaven ! 
 Mi pencil's to' short, an' mi copy book's full ; 
 An' th' Missis hoo says awm both stupid an' dull ; 
 Mi trousers wants mendin', mi bishop's i' holes ; 
 An' th' fire it's gone eawt, for we hannot no coals. 
 We'n porritch i' th' mornhi', and porritch at noon, 
 
22 
 
 prayin' jemmy. 
 
 Till awm getten reet weary o' usin' a spoon. 
 Aw haven't a cap to put on does ta know? 
 An mi jacket's i' pieces at th' elbows an' o'. 
 
 III. 
 
 When awm pickin' up cinders an' sticks' ats i' th' lones, 
 Th' lads co' me ragg'd Jemmy, an' pelt me wi' stones. 
 Iv tha'd let mi poor fayther get eawt o' yond hole, 
 He'd fetch us some chips, an' a hundert o' coal ; 
 An' while he wur here he could just pow ewar Ben, — 
 Do let him come whoam, tha can have him again ! 
 We'n sowd o' his cloas, but no matter for that, 
 Ewar Tummy can lend him a cooat an' a hat, 
 An' aw'll beg him a bit ov a waiscut at th' shop 
 Where we took that check shirt o' ewar Isaac's to th' pop. 
 When aw'd yeard him say this much, aw dragg'd him 
 off th' seat ; 
 
 Took him whoam to ewar heawse — gan him summat 
 to eat ; — 
 
prayin' jemmy. 
 
 23 
 
 Put some clogs on his feet, fiU'd reet full o' big nails, 
 An' aw said, tha'm tell God neaw heaw thankful tha feels 
 He ran back again, put his hands up o' th' board. 
 With a heart full of joy shew'd his clogs to the Lord 
 Let us o' learn a lesson from this simple youth, 
 For the story, tho' strange, is full o' real truth ; 
 Let us o' go to God wi' ewar trials an' cares. 
 An' be plain, like this lad, then he'll answer ewar prayers 
 
gallg an' Jonas. 
 
 I. 
 
 'OME, Mally, owd woman, it's near forty year' 
 
 Aw think th' worst' ^ blown o'er, so we donno' need fear 
 For we'n had to face o' sorts o' weather. 
 
 Ewar Tum's gone a courtin', ewar Liza's i' th' teawn, 
 An' aw've just put th' grey mare up i' th' stable ; 
 
 What thinks ta, owd wench, iv we sitten us deawn, 
 An' han a noice chat while we're able ? 
 
 Sin' thee an' me furst cum together ; 
 
MALLY an' JONAS. 
 
 25 
 
 II. 
 
 Owcl ago is fast whitenin' ewar ycds, one can see, 
 
 An' these limbs too are gettin' less nimble ; 
 Asv tell thee what, Mally, — tha'rt greyer nor me, — 
 
 KSit still lass, aw'll reach thee thi thimble. 
 Av/ wm^ thinkin' a bit sin' abeawt former days, 
 
 When tha liv'd wi' thi aunt i' th' flag alley ; 
 There wur nob'dy awm shure had a prattler face. 
 
 Aw did think some weel on thee, Mally ! 
 
 Aw bowt thee some ear-rings o' reet solid gowd. 
 
 An' some side-com's to stick i' thi hair ; 
 An' lots o' times when we walked eawt, aw wur towd, 
 
 Tha wur th' hon'somest lass i' o' th' fair. 
 It's true tha'rt grown plainer a deol sin' wer'n wed, 
 
 An' tha'rt nowt near as lusty an' clever ; 
 But, spite o' thi wrinkles, an' silvery yed. 
 
 Aw love thee as firmly as ever ! 
 
26 MALLY an' JONAS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 There's one thing aw've noticed, owd lass, an' that's this. 
 
 That whenever tha's bin i' deep trouble, 
 An' tha's come to owd Jonas to borrow a kiss — 
 
 Tha allis would pay me back double ! 
 Neaw who could help lovin' a woman loike thee, 
 
 Moor precious bi 'th hawve nor great riches ; 
 Come, Mally, love, woipe that whot tear fro' thi e'e, 
 
 An' get on wi' mendin' mi britches. 
 
 V. 
 
 "Neaw, Jonas, be decent, tha's said quite enutf, 
 
 Mon tha'rt wor' nor tha wur when tha'rn younger — 
 An' aw use to think then tha could turn eawt some stuff, 
 
 But that tongue o' thine neaw must be lunger. 
 Awm surprois'd wi' thee, mon, an owd fellow loike thee: 
 
 Had it bin some young chap 'at wur jokin', — 
 Aw should soon ha' seen th' drift on it o', dust ta see,— 
 
 Hang it, Jonas, get on wi' thi smokin !" 
 
MALLY an' JONAS. 
 
 27 
 
 VI. 
 
 Here's a button off, sithee, whot has ta done weet. 
 
 Will t' feeli' thi owd waistcut pockets ; 
 Aw want to be finishin' neaw for to neet, 
 
 For mi een they reet ache i' their sockets. 
 Ewar Liza '11 be here eawt o' th' teawn very soon, 
 
 An ewar Turn's abeawt leavin' Jane Tupper ; 
 Aw mun tak.o' mi muffins and loaves eawt o' th' 'oon, 
 
 An' see abeawt makin' some supper. 
 
 VII. 
 
 It's Setterday neet,we shall want smnmat noice, 
 
 "What thinks ta obeawt some Scotch collops ? 
 We'n had 'em to supper before once or twoice. 
 
 An' ewar childer they did eat some dollops ! 
 If tha'U slip deawn i' th' cellar, and fetch a few coals. 
 
 We'll soon have it ready tha'll see lad; 
 Aw've some rare noice potatoes awbowt o' owd Scholes. 
 
 Aw know they'll be reet uns for thee lad. 
 
28 MALLY AN' JONAS. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Afore we go t' bed tha mun wesli tliee a bit, 
 
 An' go cleawn to th* shop for some stuff; 
 Tiia'U want a few beons an' some com for th' owd tit, 
 
 An' tha'm mind an' think on o' thi snuff. 
 It's Sunday to morn, oh ! aw want it to come. 
 
 For it'sth' best day we hani' o' th' seven ; 
 We can lay deawn life's burdens, an' looktow'rds whom 
 
 For aw hope we're o' strivin' for heaven." 
 
I. 
 
 OME, Dick, let's have howcT o' thi bond, 
 
 Whot a dreadful long face tha keeps pooin' 
 
 These bad times tha'U ne'er manage to stond, 
 Except tha minds weel whot tha'rt doin'. 
 
 Iv awVe owt i' mi heawse or mi purse 
 At tha'rt really i' th' need on, aw' 11 lend it, 
 
 Xw see thi owd cooat's gettin' worse, 
 But aw'U look thi a patch up to mend it. 
 
^0 THEEE'S J^O GOOD I' CEAW'Rm' l' TH' DUST. 
 
 n. 
 
 Aw wish aw'd mi hat full o' gowd, 
 
 Aw'd mak' someb'dy glad wi' mi givin'; 
 Aw'd miss nother young folk nor owd, 
 
 At wanted a lift wi' their livin'. 
 There's theawsands o' poor folk' aw know, 
 
 O'er hard times an' poverty grievin', 
 There's one or two liyes i' th' next row, 
 
 Aw should feel rare an' preawd o' relievin'. 
 
 III. 
 
 But it happens awm poor, like theirsel', 
 
 An' aw know very weel they're noan shammin' ; 
 Bless thi Dick lad, there's nob'dy can tell 
 
 Heaw long we're to keep on a clammin\ 
 They should help us a bit, them as con, 
 
 Or some'U ne'er live to see th' end on't; 
 There's mony a poor, woe-stricken mon, 
 
 Would be glad ov assistance, depend on't I 
 
there's m GOOD I' CEAW'BIN' I' TH' DUST. 31 
 IV. 
 
 We'll lots o' brave fellows i' th' street, 
 
 liow-spirited, deawncast, an' needy, 
 Wi' hardly a shoe to their feet, 
 
 An' cooats o' their backs gettin' seedy. 
 It's hard when a chap's done his best, 
 
 Boath i' plannin', an' savin', an' strivin', 
 To keep th' little brids i' their nest, 
 
 An' yet connot get 'em a livin'. 
 
 Y. 
 
 But it's no use o' whinin' loike this, 
 
 Th' dark cleawd '11 gi' way for a breeter; 
 Aw'll gi' my owd woman a kiss, 
 
 An' then tune up mi poipe an' sing sweeter. 
 Let's noan look so deawncast an' sad, 
 
 There's things i' th' world yet 'ats worth seem' 
 As long as there's life to be had. 
 
 It's no use o' talkin' o' deein'. 
 
82 there's no good i' ceaw'rin' f th' dust. 
 
 VI. 
 
 There's no good i' ceaw'rin' i' tli' dust, 
 
 Iv aw wiir to ha' mi omi choosin'. 
 Afore aw'd be covered wi' rust, 
 
 Aw'd wear eawt wi' rubbin' an' nsin'. 
 Aw'll try an' aw'll keep up my yed, 
 
 Tho' aw live a few months upo' shoddy, 
 Awm determined aw'll never go dead, 
 
 As long as aw've soul i' mi body. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Go whoam„ Dick, an' streighten thi face, 
 
 An' keep it as streight as tha'rt able. 
 An' aw'll warrant tha'll see better days, 
 
 An' plenty o' meat o' thi table. 
 Dunno skulk i' this world loikc a meawse, 
 
 Howd thi yed up, an' keep up thi courage; 
 Iv tha'rt clammin', just co' at ewar heawse, 
 
 An' aw'll gi' thi a spoonful o' porridge. 
 
there's no good i' ceaw'rin' i' th' dust. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Ne'er fret abeawt th' times beiii' bad, 
 
 For they'll mend again sometime, depend on't; 
 There'll be plenty o' wark to be had, 
 
 An' plenty o' wage, too, at th' end on't. 
 Let us bid care an' trouble good neet, 
 
 For there's never no good i' repinin'; 
 Look up ! iv it's noan i' one's seet, 
 
 Yon sun up above's allis shinin'. 
 
%xvk iati^ MarK io Im^ 1^ gt get 
 I. 
 
 HEEEEVEE aw trudge neaw at days, 
 ' Awm certain to see some owd friend 
 
 Lookin' anxiously up i' my face, 
 An' axin when times are beawn t' mend. 
 
 Awm surproised heaw folk live, aw declare, 
 Wi' th' clammin' an' staryin' they'n stood 
 
 God bless 'em, heaw patient they are ! 
 Aw wish aw could help 'em, aw would^ 
 
AWVE HARD WARK TO HOWD UP MI YED. 
 
 But really awve nowt aw con give, 
 
 Except it's a bit uv a song, 
 An' th' Muses han hard wark to live, 
 
 One's bin hamper'cl an' powfag'd so long ; 
 Awve tried to look cheerful an' bowd, 
 
 An' yo know what awve written an' said, 
 But iv th' truth mun be honestly towd, 
 
 Awve hard wark to howd up mi yed ! 
 
 There'll be some on us missin', aw deawt, 
 
 Iv there is n't some help for us soon, 
 We'n bin jostled an' tumbled abeawt. 
 
 Till we're welly o knock'd eawt o' tune ; 
 Ewar Margit, hoo frets, an' hoo cries, 
 
 As hoo sits theer, wi' th' chilt on her knee ; 
 An' aw connot blame th' lass, for hoo tries 
 
 To be cheerful an' gradely wi' me. 
 
AWVE HARD WARK TO HOWD UP MI YED. 
 
 Yon Yankees may think it rare fan, 
 
 Kickin' up sicli a shindy o' th' globe, 
 Confound 'em, aw msh they'd get done, 
 
 For they'd weary eawt th' patience o' Job ! 
 We shall have to go help 'em, that's clear, 
 
 Iv they dunno get done very soon ; 
 Iv ewar Volunteers wur o'er theer. 
 
 They'd sharpen 'em up to some tune. 
 
 V. 
 
 Neaw it's hard for a mortal to tell 
 
 Heaw long they may plague us this road ; 
 Iv they'd hurt nob'dy else but thersel. 
 
 They met fo eawt an' feight till theyr'n stoAvd. 
 Aw think it's high time someb'dy spoke, 
 
 When so mony are cryin' for bread ; 
 For there's hundreds an' theawsands o' folk 
 
 Dcawn i' Lancashire hardly hawve fed. 
 
AWVE HARD WARK TO HOWD UP MI YED. 
 
 Th' big men, when they yer ewar complaint. 
 
 May treat it as "gammon" an' " stuff 
 An' tell us we use to' much paint. 
 
 But we dunnot daub paint on enuff. 
 If they think it's noan true what we sen, 
 
 Ere they charge us wi' tellin' a lie, 
 Let 'em look into th' question loike men. 
 
 An' come deawn here a fortni't an' try. 
 
PART FIRST. 
 I. 
 
 T'S getteii time to leave mi wark, 
 An' wesh and dress mysel'; 
 Becose to neet, at th' edge o' dark, 
 
 Aw meet wi' Eosy Bell; 
 Before aw left, last Sunday neet, 
 Aw grasped her hont i' mine. 
 An' promised her, iv o wur reet, 
 Aw'd go, if it wur fine. 
 
th' courtin' neet. 
 
 We're rare an' noicely matched, us two, 
 
 It's plain enough to see, 
 i^'or nob'dy could mak' more ado 
 
 ]S*or Eosy does o' me; 
 We allis meet abeawt one place, 
 . At th' end o' th' garden wo; 
 Hoo giins an' laughs all o'er her face, 
 
 Aw grin an' laugh an' o. 
 
 III. 
 
 Her mother looked as shy as owt, 
 
 Th' furst neet aw went i' th' heawse, 
 Aw durs'nt speak, nor cough, nor nowt, 
 
 Biit ceawer'd theer loike a meawse. 
 At last aw towd 'em what aw meant. 
 
 An' then aw coom away; 
 Xn\ bless yo're loife, th' next time aw went 
 
 Hoo ax'd me to mi tay. 
 
40 
 
 th' courtin' neet. 
 
 An' neaw awm just as welcome theer 
 
 As ony lad i' th' teawn ; 
 They allis reach me th' two-arm cheer. 
 
 An' tell'n me t' sit me deawn. 
 Th' owd chap's a horse worth twenty peawnd^ 
 
 Beside' a lot o' ceaws ; 
 An' a bit o' rare good pasture greawnd 
 
 Comes frontin' up to th' heawse. 
 
 He's six fine pigs he says he's bred 
 
 Off Dicky Hampson's sue; 
 Awm welly sure, when Rosy's wed, 
 
 He'll give her one or two. 
 Yo' needn't think awm after th' brass, 
 
 For aw wouldn't thank for th' spot, 
 Wi' th' pigs, an' th' ceaws, an' o he has. 
 
 Unless aw'd her i' th' lot. 
 
TH' COURTIISr' NEET. 
 
 Aw've never bin so long to th' schoo', 
 
 But still aw'm noan a flat, 
 Aw think aw've whot'll help me through — 
 
 Up here, inside mi hat. 
 Iv theyn a table, or a bed 
 
 They want to give away. 
 When me an' Rosy's getten wed, 
 
 Aw'U fetch 'em ony day. 
 
 VII. 
 
 A new-laid egg or two fro' th' hen, 
 
 Aw shouldn't scorn, not I; 
 Nor a good fat rabbit neaw an' then, — 
 
 Aw loike a rabbit pie. 
 But yonder stonds mi darlin' dear, 
 
 Hoo's lookin' eawt o' th' dur; 
 It's no use ceawrin' gabblin' here, 
 
 Aw'U go an' talk to hur. 
 
PART SECOND. 
 
 I. 
 
 WVE said good neet to Rosy Bell, 
 An' neaw aw'm off to bed, 
 Before aw go aw wish to tell 
 
 Yo' folk we're beawTi t' be wed. 
 Aw've never ax'd her this before, 
 
 My word, an' did n't hoo stare ! 
 But, after thinldn' th' matter o'er, 
 Hoo said hoo did n't care. 
 
th' couktin' neet. 
 
 Neaw dunno let this secret eawt, 
 
 Nor mention what aw've towd; 
 Aw would n't have it blab'd abeawt, 
 
 For fifty peawnd i' gowd. 
 Just wait till th' parson's spun his yarn, ^ 
 
 An' me an' Eosy's one. 
 Alii then — ^yo' lads 'at want to larn — 
 
 Aw'll show yo' heaw its done ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Yo'll noan find me loike some aw know, 
 
 As soon as th' weddui's o'er, — 
 There's sich a change they're nowt at o 
 
 Like what they wur afore. 
 Aw'll- turn mi hand to ony job — 
 
 Keep Johnny eawt o' th' durt 
 Or sit an' rock ewar little Bob, 
 
 While Eosy mends mi shurt. 
 
44 th' courtin' neet. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Awll never put misel' i' th' road, 
 
 But keep mi een abeawt, 
 An' when aw see th' lass gettin' stowd, 
 
 Set to, an' help her eawt ; 
 Aw'U try an' save her o aw con, 
 
 An' when hoo's noan so well, 
 Aw'll poo mi cooat ofiF, loike a mon. 
 
 An' wesh an bake misel'. 
 
 As long as th' har'stone's clean an' white, 
 
 An' th' fender noice an' breet 
 Awst allis feel it a delight 
 
 To stop i' th' heawse at neet. 
 Aw'll ne'er put Rosy eawt o' tune 
 
 Wi' dawbin' th' parlour floor ; 
 But allis, when aw've dirty shoon, 
 
 Aw'll wipe 'em weel at th' door. 
 
TH' COURTIN' II^EET. 
 
 45 
 
 At iieet, when aw've an heawer to spare, 
 
 Aw'll ceawer mi deawn i' th' nook, 
 While Eosy combs ewar Lizzie's hair, 
 
 Aw' 11 read some pratty book. 
 Aw'll never dreom o' wanderin' wide, 
 
 A chap as conno see 
 Ifoice pictm^es at his own foyar side. 
 
 He's nowt akin to me. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Aw'll say no moor, it looks so feaw 
 
 One braggin' what he'll do; 
 Aw wish aw'd never said nowt neaw, 
 
 Yo'll think awm sitch a foo'. 
 But yonder comes mi brother Tom, 
 
 Deawn Jack o' Peter's fowd, 
 Good neet, good neet, aw'll bowt off whoam 
 
 Afore mi supper's cowd. 
 
I. 
 
 ONFOUNb it ! aw ne'er were so woven afore. 
 Mi back's welly broken, mi fingers are sore ; 
 AwVe bin starin' an' rootin' among this Shurat, 
 Till awm very near getten as bloint as a bat. 
 
 II. 
 
 Every toime aw go in wi' mi cuts to owd Joe, 
 
 He giesmi a cursin', an' bates mi an' o ; 
 
 Aw've a warp r one loom wi' boath selvedges marrd 
 
 An' th' other's as bad for he's drest it to' hard. 
 
th'shurat weaver's SONa. 
 
 47 
 
 III. 
 
 Aw wish aw wur fur enuff off, eawt o' th' road-. 
 For o' weayin' this rubbitch awm getten reet stowd ; 
 Aw've nowt i' this world to lie deawn on but straw, 
 For awVe only eight shillin' this fortni't to draw. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Neaw aw have n't mi family under mi hat, 
 AwVe a woife an' six childer to keep eawt o' that; 
 So awm rayther among it at present yo' see, 
 Iv ever a fellow wur puzzled, it's me ! 
 
 V. 
 
 If one turns ea^vt to steal, folk '11 co' me athief^ 
 An' aw conno' put th' cheek on to ax for relief ; 
 As aw saidi' ewar heawse t' other neet to mi woife^ 
 Aw never did nowt o' this sort i' mi loife. 
 
48 
 
 th' shurat^weaver's song. 
 
 VI. 
 
 One doesn't like everyone t'know heaw they are. 
 But we'n suffered so long thro' this 'Merica war, 
 'At there's lots o'»poor factory folk getten t' for end. 
 An' they'll soon be knock'd o'er iy these toimes doesn't 
 mend. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Oh, dear ! iv yon Yankees could only just see 
 Heaw they're clammin an' starvin' poor weavers loike me 
 Aw think they'd soon settle their bother, an' strive 
 To send us some cotton to keep us alive. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 There's theawsands o' folk' just i' th' best o' their days, 
 Wi traces o' want plainly seen i' their face ; 
 An' a future afore 'em as dreary an' dark, 
 For when th' cotton gets done we shall o be beawt 
 wark. 
 
th' shurat weaver's song. 49 
 
 IX. 
 
 We'll bill patient an' quiet as long as we con, 
 Til' bits o' things we had by us are welly o gone ; 
 Aw'vebin trampin' so long, mi owd shoon are worn eawt. 
 An' mi halliday clooas are o on 'em " upth' speawt." 
 
 X. 
 
 It wur nobbut th' last Monday aw sowd a good bed, — 
 Nay very near gan it, — to get us some bread ; 
 Afore these bad toimes cum aw used to be fat, 
 But iieaw, bless yo're life, awm as thin as a lat ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 Mouy M toime i' mi' loife aw' ve seen things lookin' feaw, 
 
 But never as awkard as what they are neaw; 
 
 1 V there isn't some help for us factory folk soon, 
 
 Aw'm sure we shall o be knock'd reet eawt o' tune. 
 i> 
 
50 
 
 TH' SHURAT WEAVER'S SONa. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Come give us a lift, yo' 'at ban owt to give^ 
 An' help yo're poor brothers an' sisters to live; 
 Ee kind, an' be tender to th' needy an' poor,, 
 An' we'll promise when th' toimes mend we'll ax yo' 
 no moor. 
 
I. 
 
 c3^/S there iiob'dy to thank these good folk ? 
 
 Aw wish aw could write yo' a song, 
 Aw'd mak' yo' reet welcome to mine. 
 
 There's Waugh, he's bin writin' for yeai^s. 
 An' mony a good tale, too, he's towd ; 
 
 But he says nowt abeawt these bad times ; 
 Aw wonder, neaw, heaw he con howd. 
 
 No poet to scribble a line ? 
 
52 am BLESS 'em, it shows they'n some thowt. 
 II. 
 
 ly aw could draw pictures loike him, 
 
 An' ceawer deawn an' write hawve as weel, 
 Aw'd tell folk lieaw thankful aw am ; 
 
 But aw could'nt tell th' hawve 'at aw feel. 
 When aw tak' up a papper to read, 
 
 Aw can see there heaw ready folk are 
 At helpin' poor creatures i' need, 
 
 An' givin' us o they can spare. 
 
 III. 
 
 We'n gentlemen, ladies an' o 
 
 As busy i' th' country as owt, 
 Providin' for th' Lancashire poor ; 
 
 G-od bless 'em, it shows they'n some thowt ! 
 Iv they'll only keep on as they do. 
 
 We shall o be rigg'd cawt very soon, 
 There's one party givin' us frocks. 
 
 An' another lot sendin' us shoon. 
 
GOD BLESS 'EM, IT SHOWS THEY'N SOME THOWT. 53 
 IV. 
 
 Th' Australians han sent us some gowd, 
 
 For feedin' an' clothin' o' th' poor ; 
 An' they say it's noan o we mun have, 
 
 For they're busy coUectin' us moor. 
 An' th' Indians are helpin' an o. 
 
 Aw reccon they're grateful for th' past, 
 So they'll give us a bit ov a lift, 
 
 For helpin' them eawt, when they'rn fast. 
 
 V. 
 
 We'n clogs an' vve'n clooas gan us neaw, 
 
 There's both second-honded an' new ; 
 Some are givin' us soup twice a week, 
 
 An' others are givin' us stew. 
 We're rare an' weel done to, awm sure. 
 
 For we're fed, an' we're clothed, an' we're towt ; 
 They pay'n us for gooin' to th' schoo', 
 
 An' gi'en us good larnin' for nowt. 
 
54 GOD BLESS 'em IT SHOWS THEY'N SOME THOWT. 
 VI. 
 
 God bless 'em for o 'at they've done. 
 
 An' aw hope they'll keep doin' as well, 
 Till th' dark cleawd 'at hangs o'er's blown away, 
 
 An' we're able to do for eawersel'. 
 Excuse me for writing these loines, 
 
 For it's no use aw conno' be still. 
 As long as they help up us to live, 
 
 Aw' II thank 'em, if nob'dy else will. 
 
If s lard id toic^r f iV dfhimit^g faoft. 
 
 'T'S hard to ceawer i' tli' chimney nook, 
 I Fro' weary day to day ; 
 
 An' no kind word, nor lovin' look 
 To drive one's care away ! 
 
 Mi' clooas are welly o worn eawt. 
 An' neaw, awm sich a sect 
 
 Aw dunno loike to walk abeawt, 
 Unless it's dnrk at neet 
 
56 it's hard to ceawer i' th* chimney nook. 
 n. 
 
 To get us bread, mi mother's sowcl 
 
 Eawr mattrasses an' sheets ; 
 An' oh, it is soa bitter cowd, 
 
 These frosty, winter neets ! 
 Two ladies kindly co'd one day, 
 
 An' put us deawn some shoon ; 
 They said they'd sheets to give away, 
 
 An' we must ha' some soon. 
 
 III. 
 
 Eawr Mary Jane's a bonny lass, 
 
 Wi' two sich rosy cheeks ; 
 Hoo goes to th' Refuge scwin' class, 
 
 An' has done neaw for weeks. 
 Poor thing ! hoo's badly starved, aw know, 
 
 Hoo's scarcely owt to wear. 
 Aw do so wish at somb'dy 'd co', 
 
 'At's getten owt to spare. 
 
IT'S HAKD TO CEAWER l' TH' CHIMNEY NOOK. 
 
 Her petticoats are o worn eawt, 
 
 H'er Sunday frock's i' holes; 
 An' then her boots, — hoo's welly beawt, 
 
 They want boath heels an' soles. 
 Aw wish mi feythur had a job, 
 
 He looks so strange, an' wild ; 
 He'll sit for heawers at th' side o' th' ob, 
 
 An' cry just like a child. 
 
 V, 
 
 No wonder he should pine, an' fret, 
 
 An' look soa discontent ; 
 For th' gas-bill isn't settled yet. 
 
 An' th' lon'lord wants his rent. 
 Mi' mother's bui to th' shop to-neet 
 
 To fetch a bit o' tay ; 
 Hoo says they hardly looken rcet, 
 
 Becose we conno pay. 
 
58 it's hard to ceawer I' th' chimney nook. 
 
 VI. 
 
 An' who can blame 'em ? nob'dy can; 
 
 They're wur nor us, bi' th' mass ! 
 Iv they're to pay for what they han, 
 
 They're loike to ha' some brass ; 
 We'n lived as careful as we con 
 
 Awm sure, but after o 
 A great big shop-score's runnin' on 
 
 For tothry peawnd or so. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Aw've etten bacon till awm sick. 
 
 Eawr Jemmy has an o ; 
 An' iv yo'll ax mi uncle Dick * 
 
 He'll tell yo' th' same, aw know. 
 An' porritch aw've had quite anew 
 
 Sin' th' factory stopp'd i' March ; 
 Aw conno do wd' soup and stew, 
 
 They mak' mi bally warch. 
 
IT'S HARD TO CEAWER I' TH' CHIMNEY NOOK. 
 VIII. 
 
 Awm glad o' every bit aw get, 
 
 An' rare an' thankM feel ; 
 AwVe allis getten sum'at yet, 
 
 To mak' mise? a meal. 
 Thank God, we'n never ax'd i' vain, 
 
 For folk are kind, aw'm sure ; 
 God bless 'em o, for what they've gan ; — 
 
 One eonno say no moor. 
 
OME lasses, let's ^.heer up, an' sing, it's no use 
 lookin' sad, 
 
 We'll mak' eawr sewin' schoo' to ring, an' stitch away 
 loike mad, 
 
 We'll try an' mak' tli' best job we con, o' owt we ban 
 to do, 
 
 We read an' write, an' spell an' kest, while here at 
 th' sewin' schoo'. 
 
 Chorus.— Then, lasses, let's cheer up an' sing, 
 It's no use lookin' sad. 
 
sewin' class song. 
 
 Gl 
 
 ir. 
 
 Ewar (^ueeii, tli' Lord Mayor o' London, too, they 
 
 :<end us lots o' brass, 
 An' neaw, at welly every sclioo', we'n got a se win' class; 
 We'n superintendents, cutters eawt, an' visitors an o; 
 Well parsons, cotton mesturs, too, come in to w^atch us 
 
 sew. 
 
 Then, lasses^ let's cheer up, an' sing, &c. 
 III. 
 
 Sm' th' war begun, an' th' factories stopp'd, we're 
 
 badly off, it's true, 
 But still we needn't grumble, for we'n noan so mich to do ; 
 We're only here fro' nine to four, an' han an' heawer 
 
 for noon. 
 
 We nother stop so very late nor start so very soon. 
 
 Then, lasses, let's cheer up, an' sing, &c. 
 
62 
 
 sewin' class song. 
 
 IV. 
 
 lt*s noice an' easy sittin' here, there's no mistake i' that! 
 We'd sooner do it, a foine seet, nor root among th' 
 Shurat; 
 
 We'n ne'er no floats to unweave neaw, we're reet 
 
 enough bi' th' mass. 
 For we couldn't have an easier job nor goin' to th' 
 
 sewin' class. 
 
 Then, lasses, let's cheer up and sing, &c. 
 
 V. 
 
 We're welly kill'd wi' kindness, neaw, we really are, 
 indeed, 
 
 For everybody's tryin' hard to get us o we need, 
 They'n sent us puddins, — ^bacon, too, an' lots o' decent 
 close 
 
 An' what they'll send afore they'n done there's nob'dy 
 here 'at knows. 
 
 Then, lasses, let's cheer up, an' sing, &c. 
 
SEWING CLASS SONG. 
 
 63 
 
 God bless these kind, good natured folk, 'at sends us 
 0 this stuff, 
 
 We conno tell 'em o we feel, nor thank 'em hawve 
 enuff; 
 
 They help to find us meat an' clooas, an' eddicashun, too, 
 An' Avhat creawns o', they gi'en us wage for goin' to 
 th' sewin' schoo'! 
 
 Then, lasses, let's cheer up, an' sing, &c. 
 
 VII. 
 
 "We'n sich a chance o' larnin' neaw we'n never had 
 afore; 
 
 An' oh, we shall be rare an' wise when th' Yankee 
 wars are o'er; 
 
 There's nob'dy then can puzzle us wi owt we n larned 
 to do, 
 
 We'n getten polished up so weel wi' goin' to th' 
 sewin schoo'. 
 
 Then, lasses, let's cheer up, an' sing, &c. 
 
64 
 
 sewin' class song. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Young- fellows lookin' partners eawt had better come 
 
 this way, 
 
 For, neaw we'n larned to mak* a shurt, we're ready 
 ony day; 
 
 But mind, they'll ha' to ax us twice an' mak' a deol ado, 
 We're gettin' rayther saucy neaw wi' goin' to th' sewm' 
 sclioo'. 
 
 Then, lasses, let's cheer up, an' sing, &c. 
 
 IX. 
 
 There'll be some lookin' eawt for wives when th' 
 
 factories start again, 
 But we shall never court wi' noan but decent, sober 
 
 men; 
 
 Soa vulgar chaps beawt common sense will ha' no 
 
 need to come, 
 Foi', sooner than wed sich as these, we'd better stop a 
 
 whoam. 
 
 Then, lasses, let's cheer up, an' sing, e^c. 
 
sewin' class song. 65 
 
 X. 
 
 Come lasses, then, cheer up an' sing, it's no use lookin 
 sad, 
 
 "We'll mak' eawr sewin' schoo' to ring, an' stitch away 
 loike mad; 
 
 We live i' hopes afore so long, to see a breeter day, 
 For th' cleawd 'at's hangin' o'er us neaw, is siire to 
 blow away. 
 
 Then, lasses, let's cheer up, an' sing, &c. 
 
Jlui'o^ immA ml bit a' iardp o'ai. 
 
 I, 
 
 WYE turned mi bit o' garden o'er, 
 An' set mi seed an o; 
 Soa neaw awVe done aw'U rest a bit, 
 I An' sit an' watch it grow. 
 It's noice to have a little spot 
 
 Where one can ceawer 'em deawn 
 A quiet, comfortable place, 
 
 Eawtsoide o' th' busy teawn 
 Where one can sit an' smook their poipe, 
 An' have a friendly chat, 
 
AW'VE TURNED MI BIT O' GARDEN O'ER. 
 
 Or read th' newspapper o'er a bit, 
 
 Or talk abeawt Shurat; 
 Or listen to some owd man's tale, 
 
 Some vetran come fro' th' wars— 
 Aw loike to yer 'em spin their yarn, 
 
 An' show their wounds an' scars. 
 
 II. 
 
 One neet aw thowt aw'd tak a walk 
 
 As fur as th' Hunters' Teawer 
 To beg a daisy root or two; 
 
 Tom's gan me mony a fleawer! 
 They're bloomin' i' mi garden neaw, 
 
 Aw've sich a bonny show, 
 Aw've daisies, pinks, carnations, too, 
 
 An' pollyants an' o. 
 Yo couldn't think heaw preawd aw feel 
 
 0' every plant an' fleawer; 
 Aw couldn't ha' cared for childer moore— 
 
 Aw've nursed 'em mony a heawer 
 
68 AW-VE TURNED MI BIT O' GAEBEN O'EK. 
 
 But tho' they neaw look fresh an' Mi\ 
 
 They'll droop their yeds an' dee; 
 They hanno long to tarry here— 
 
 They're just loike yo an' me. 
 
 III. 
 
 Dark-lookin' cleawds are gatherin' reawnd. 
 
 Aw think it's beawn to rain; 
 There's nowt could pleos me better neaW; 
 
 Aw should be rare an' fain ! 
 Mi bit o' seed wants deggin' o^er^ 
 
 To help to mak it spreawt; 
 It's sum' at loike a child's farst teethe 
 
 'At wanten helpin' eawt. 
 But aw'U be off afore aw'm wet,, 
 
 It's getten reet agate, 
 An' while it comes aw think aw'll get 
 
 A bit o' sum'at t' eat; 
 For oh! it is a hungry job, 
 
 This workin' eawt o' th' door; 
 
AW'VE TURNED MI BIT O' GARDEN O'ER. 
 
 Til' committee should alleaw for this, 
 An' give one raji^her moore. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Aw should so loike a good blow eawt, 
 
 A feed off beefsteak pie; 
 But aw^ can ne'er get nowt loike that 
 
 Wi' th' bit aw draw, not I ! 
 A\fm glad enough o' porritch neaw, 
 
 Or tothrey cowd potates; 
 If aw can get anew o' these 
 
 Awst do, till th' factory gates. 
 It's welly gan o'er rainin', so 
 
 Aw'll have another look 
 An' see heaw th' garden's gettin' on; 
 
 An' then aw'll get a book, 
 An' read an heawer or two for th' woife, 
 
 An' sing a bit for Ted; 
 Then poo mi clogs ofiF, fasten th' doors, • 
 
 An' walk up steers to bed. 
 
i^h' Jill (Bnjgland ^kv^n mx th' Jls|un 
 I. 
 
 WD often yeard tell 
 
 0' th' All England Eleven 
 Bein' th* best cricket players 
 
 We had under heaven; 
 An' mony a toime thowt 
 
 Aw could just loike to watch 'em, 
 AVhen th' bo's han bin hit, 
 Heaw weel they can catch 'em, 
 
TH' all ENGLAND ELEVEN. 
 
 So aw went deawn to Ashun 
 Th' last week, wi' friend Cheetham, 
 
 'J'o th' greawnd where aw yeard 
 Th' Ashun chaps wiir to meet 'em. 
 
 II. 
 
 Well, aw never seed th' marrow, 
 
 To some on 'em, never! 
 Aav couldn't ha' thowt 
 
 They'd bin hawve as clever. 
 When they strike at a bo. 
 
 They can hit it, like winkin', 
 An' catch one iv shot fro' 
 
 A gun, to mi thinkin'. 
 
 III. 
 
 Th' Australians an' th' Yankees 
 
 Once had 'em a tussle; 
 They sent for 'em o'er. 
 
 And made sich a bussle; 
 
72 TH' ALL ENGLAI^D ELEVEIST, 
 
 But it o coom to nowt, 
 
 Ony foo' could ha' towd 'em 
 They'd ne'er stond a chance 
 
 Wi' th' " Eleven," would they Owdham ! 
 Tliey con tell lies, con th' Yankees, 
 
 Wi' owt under heaven; 
 But con play noan at o 
 
 Wi' th' All England Eleven. 
 
 lY. 
 
 They're clover at smokin' 
 
 Cigars, an' at eightin'; 
 But nowt mich at cricket, 
 
 Nor nowt mich at feightin'. 
 Neaw, th' Ashun chaps, mind yo', 
 
 Some on 'em played stunnin' ; 
 There wur one mon could pike 
 
 Up a bo when he' re runnm'; 
 An' when one o' th' All England 
 
 Just gan it a lifter 
 
an' th' ashun chaps. 
 
 To til' side he wur on 
 It wur back in a snifter. 
 
 V. 
 
 Everyone did his best 
 
 When he're hayin' his innin'; 
 An' at one time they thowt 
 
 They'd some prospect o' winnin'; 
 But th' All England Eleven 
 
 Soon made 'em feel humble; 
 For they lick'd o th' whole lot, 
 
 Wi' two wickets to tumble. 
 
ficab htkxz t^z ^emhrs nf ll^e ^talnbribge gtwl^anus' |n^;tHufton 
 0it ^Eturbair €htnmc^f ^-eptelju' 12, 1863. 
 
 I. 
 
 (j^ ^Y wur deawn at th' Mechanics last Setterdaj'' 
 neet, 
 
 An' oh! let me tell jo\ aw had sich a treat ; 
 Had aw known 'at they'd had as mich talent as that, 
 Aw'd ha' gone afore neaw, iv aw'd popp'd mi owd hat. 
 There wur o macks o' tradesmen sit smokin'i'th' room. 
 There wur blacksmiths fro' th' anyil, an' weavers fro' 
 th' loom, 
 
LINES. 
 
 75 
 
 Mechanics an' joiners, an' snobs not a few, 
 Professors o' music, an' schoomesturs too ; 
 There wur piecers, an' spinners, an managers there, 
 (xone to spend a few heawrs, an' to drive away care. 
 There's pappers for those 'at's a fancy to read, 
 Wi' o shades oy opinion, to suit every creed ; 
 An' moor, even yet, iv yo're wantin' to sup, 
 There's coffee provided, a penny a cup ; 
 An' rare stuff it is, for its booath strong an' sweet, 
 It's a capital beverage for Setterday neet. 
 
 II. 
 
 Awve moor to say yet, but afore aw go fur, 
 Aw should just loike to mention th' good feelin' there 
 wur ; 
 
 Everyone seemed determined to do what he could 
 For thoose 'at wur near him— an' reet 'at he should. 
 For it's easy to give a kind word or a smoile, 
 'At may have good effect, an' be felt a great whoile. 
 
7G 
 
 LINES. 
 
 Aw wur gradely surproised when aw entered, to see 
 Heaw welcome they made a poor fellow loike me ; 
 Aw con tell yo' it welly browt tears i' mi een, 
 For aw'd thowt to misel' aw should hardly be seen ; 
 But bless yo, aw'd scarcely got inside o' th' dur, 
 When two or three met me, an' ax'd heaw aw wur. 
 In a minute or two one o' th' principal men 
 Ci-eet howd o' mi hont an' reet shook it agaui ; 
 Aw hope he'll noan shake i' that way no moor — 
 By jingo ! he very nee poo'd me on th' floor, 
 An' that would do noan — aw should look sich a seet 
 Ceawered theer at full length, ov a Setterday neet ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Neaw yo' chaps 'at loike music should just pop in 
 theer, 
 
 Yo' may listen for nowt, so it conno be dear ; 
 
 Yo' ne'er yeard sich singin' for aw never did, 
 
 To mi thinkin' it byets Tommy Darbyshire's brid. 
 
LINES, 
 
 77 
 
 They sung an' they played, an' it seawnded so sweet, 
 'At aw thowt aw could sit theer, an' hearken o neet. 
 Eh ! aw lour some weel pleased, but then do yo' see, 
 There's nob'dy mich fonder o' music nor me. 
 There's some 'at loike 'bacca, an' others loike snuff, 
 But awm noan so partial to that sort o' stuff ; 
 Iv yo'U offer me summat 'at tastes middlin' noice, 
 Yo'U ha' no need to ax me to have a bit twoice. 
 Tak notice, neaw lads, what aw write wi' mi pen, 
 For iv God spares mi loife aw shall go theer again ; 
 An aw'U tell everybody aw happen to meet 
 Heaw aw loiked at th' Mechanics o' Setterday neet. 
 
 IV. 
 
 It's far afore ceawerin' at th' aleheawse, awm sure ; 
 It keeps a young fellow moor manly an' pure, 
 It's far afore ceawerin' awhoam ov a lump. 
 As ignorant o' th' world, as ony owd stump ; 
 It's far afore goin' to th' theatre, too, 
 For awm certain we'n theatre-goers enoo. 
 
78 
 
 LINES. 
 
 What we're wantiii' at present is real sterlm' men, 
 Wi' a talent for speakin' or usin' a pen, 
 Wi' courage to do what they know to be reet, 
 N^oan feart o' then* actions bein' browt eawt to th' leet ; 
 It's these soart o' fellows we wanten to foind, 
 Summat worth co-in' men — great giants i' moind. 
 Well, wheer are sich chaps to be fun' do yo' think? 
 Noan at th' " Q," wheer they spend o they get upo' 
 drink ; 
 
 Yo'll ha' no need o' lookin' at th' corner o' th' street, 
 But go to th' Mechanics' some Setterday neet. 
 
Jin JtMpss k "iicWt 
 
 EAW, Dickie, be quiet wi' thee, lad. 
 An' let navvies an' railways a be; 
 Mon, tlia shouldn't do soa, — it's to' bad, 
 
 What harm are they doin' to thee? 
 Deod folk shouldn't meddle at o. 
 
 But leov' 0 these matters to th' wick; 
 They'll see they're done gradely, aw know,- 
 Dos' t' yer what aw say to thee, Dick? 
 
80 
 
 AN ADDRESS TO "DICKIE." 
 
 Neaw dunna go spoil 'em i' th' dark 
 
 What's cost so much labber an' tliowt; 
 Iv tha'U let 'em ger on wi' their wark, 
 
 Tha shall ride deawn to Buxton for nowt; 
 An' be a " director" too, mon, 
 
 Get thi beef an' thi bottles o' wine, 
 An' mak' as much brass as tha con 
 
 Eawt o' th' London an' North Western line. 
 
 m. 
 
 Aw'm surproised, Dick, at thee bein' here; 
 
 Heaw is it tha'rt noan i' thi grave? 
 . Ar' t' come eawt a gettin' thi beer, 
 
 Or havin' a bit ov a shave? 
 But that's noan thi business, aw deawt, 
 
 For tha hasn't a hair o' thi yed; 
 Hast a Avoife an' some childer abeawt? 
 
 When tha'm living up here wurt wed? 
 
AN ADDRESS TO "DICKIE." 
 IV. 
 
 Xeaw, speak, or else let it a be, 
 An' dunna be lookin' soa shy; 
 Tha needn't be freeten'd o' me, 
 
 Aw shall say nowt abeawt it, not I! 
 It'll noan matter mich iv aw do, 
 
 Aw' can do thee no harm iv aw tell ; 
 Mon there's moor folk nor thee bin a foo', 
 Aw've a woife an' some childer misel'. 
 
 V. 
 
 eaw's business below; is it slack? 
 Dos' t' yer? aw'm noan chaffin thee, mon 
 ut aw reckon 'at when tha goes back 
 Tha'U do me o th' hurt as tha con. 
 Neaw dunna do, that's a good lad. 
 For aw'm freeten'd to deoth very nee, 
 n' eawr Betty, poor lass, hoo'd go mad 
 Iv aw wur to happen to dee! 
 
82 AN ADDRESS TO "DICKIE." 
 
 VI. 
 
 When aw'm ceawerVI upo' tli' hearston' awhoam, 
 
 Aw'm inclined, very often, to boast; 
 An' aw'm noan hawve as feart as some, 
 
 But aw don't loilce to talk to a ghost. 
 So, Dickie, awVe written this song, 
 
 An' aw trust it'll find thee o reet; 
 liook it o'er when tha'rt noan very throng. 
 
 An' tha'U greetly obleege me, — good neet. 
 
 vn. 
 
 P.S.-lv tha'rt wantin' to send a reply, 
 
 Aw can gi'e thee mi place ov abode ; 
 It's reet under Dukinfilt sky. 
 
 At thirty-nine, Cheetham Hill Eoad. 
 Aw'm awfully freeten'd does t' see. 
 
 Or else aw'd invite thee to come. 
 An' eawr Betty, hoo's softer nor me. 
 
 So aw'd raytlier tha'd tarry awhoam. 
 
I, 
 
 WD Fogey lives i' Turner's Fowcl, 
 Near Matty Wilson's schoo' ; 
 An everybody knows liim tlieer, 
 
 Becose he's sich a foo'. 
 Th' last week he pawned his Sunday clooas, 
 
 An' welly gan his tit, 
 An' neaw he hasn't a haupney left — 
 He's drunk it every bit. 
 
84 OWD FOGEY. 
 
 II. 
 
 He toqjpfcheir Jonny's Testament 
 
 To Barney Logan's sale. 
 An' th' bit o' brass he geet for that 
 
 He spent o' gin an' ale. 
 He's made away wi' lots o' things, 
 
 He's drunk his pig an' cote ; 
 An' th' hens, an' th' ducks, an' th' pigeons. 
 
 They're o gone deawn his throat, 
 
 III. 
 
 There's nowt ov ony value left, 
 
 Except poor Jane, his woife ; 
 An' hoo's soa knocked abeawt i' th* world. 
 
 Hoo's weary ov her loife. 
 A week or two afore they'r wed 
 
 He took her on his knee. 
 An' swore he'd alius treat her weel 
 
 But has he done? Not he. 
 
OWD FOaEY. 
 
 His garden's covered o'er wi' weed. 
 
 An' th' fence is brocken deawn ; 
 He used to have as noice a bit 
 
 As ony chap i' th' teawn. 
 He gan boath time an' labber then, 
 
 He're in it every neet ; 
 But neaw yo'd hardly give a groat 
 
 For o he. has i' th' seet. 
 
 Th' last year he'd lots o' coUyfleawers, 
 
 An' beons, an' peas an' o ; 
 He'd twenty furst-rate gooseberry trees, 
 
 An' sallary sticks to show. 
 He built , a heawse for grooin' plants, 
 
 An' spent a pea^d o' glass. 
 But this he sowd to Farmer Jones, 
 
 An' had a spree wi' th' brass. 
 
OWD FOGEY. 
 
 A pig lie had worth thkty bob. 
 
 He sdwcl for seyen an' six 
 To someb'dy deawn i' Kinder-lone, — 
 
 It's just loike o his tricks. 
 He's reckless what he says or does, 
 
 For when he's soaked his clay 
 He cares for nowt nor nobody, 
 
 He'll give his things away. 
 
 Abeawt a month sin', Dan o' Bob's 
 
 Sowd oif his poultry stock ; 
 Owd Fogey went an' bowt 'em o — 
 
 He'd twenty an' a cock. 
 Th' next day he went to th' "Gapin' Goose," 
 
 At th' bottom eend o' th' teawn, 
 An' sowd em o to Boniface, 
 
 For just a hawve a creawn. 
 
OWD FOGEY. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 He ceawered at th' aleheawse drinkin' grog. 
 
 Till twelve o'clock at iieet ; 
 An' when lie reached his whoam th' next day 
 
 He look'd a bonny seet. 
 His cooat wur daubed fro' top to tail 
 
 Wi' slurrin' deawn a broo ; 
 But nob'dy seemed to care a fig, 
 
 Becose he's sich a foo'. 
 
I. 
 
 NE day there wur me an six moor on us went 
 As fur as " Eed Bills, Daisy Nook 
 We^d often yeard tell what a noice place it wur, 
 
 An' thowt we should just loike to look. 
 So we started fro' th' 'Bridge here, one fine afternoon, 
 
 An' some preawd o' th' walk eawt we wur too ; 
 We'rn as ill, every bit, as a parcel o' lads, 
 'At are just Ictten lose eawt o' th' schoo'. 
 
A PEEP AT " DAISY NOOK.'' 
 
 89 
 
 n. 
 
 Well, we bowted t'ort Ashun, as fast as we could, 
 
 .An' wur very soon trudgin' o'er th' Moss ; 
 Wheer we ax'd a big lad which wur th' road to " Red 
 Bills," 
 
 But he stared, an' he looked rare an' cross. 
 Aw recon he thowt we wur hayin' him on, 
 
 For he turned up his nose loike a cur, 
 An' said, " He's on th' pot, wi'a breek in his meawth,' 
 
 The big, hoblin' lad as he wur ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Aw looked at th' owd mon when aw yeard him say 
 that. 
 
 But he show'd me his nose an' his thumb ; 
 So aw said, " Come along lads, we're noan so far off. 
 
 Here's one o' th' big ' Daisies,' by gum 
 So we went joggin' on till we geet to a farm, 
 
 An' then we turned off t'ort th' reet ; 
 Crossed a potato fielt, an' a meadow or two. 
 
 An' then " Daisy Nook " wur i' th' sect. 
 
90 A PEEP AT "DAISY NOOK." 
 
 IT. 
 
 It's a snug little comer as ever one seed, 
 
 There's nowt mich they needen to fear ; 
 For iv th' French wur to come o'er a killing us o, 
 
 They'd ne'er think o' lookin' deawn theer. 
 Let me tell yo' iv ever aw get a good shop, 
 
 An' awm thinkin' at hookin' wi' th' brass, 
 (Neaw yo'U say nowt abeawt it, to nobody, aw hope). 
 
 But aw'll go theer an' hud me, bi' th' mass 1 
 
 V. 
 
 Well, we geet to " Eed Bills " at a quarter to four, 
 
 An' th' furst thing we did wur to co. 
 An' order a tea for four eawt o' th' seven. 
 
 An' some toasted cheese for us o. 
 Eh ! didn't we polish it off to some tune ! 
 
 We emptied their bread-mug, awm sure ; 
 An' crom'd us so full till some on us thowt 
 
 We should never be hungry no moore. 
 
A PEEP AT "DAISY NOOK. 
 
 VI. 
 
 We chatted an' smook'd till a quarter to eight, 
 
 Bid good neet to " Eed Bill," an' " Owd Turn," 
 An' hoped we should see 'em again, afore long, 
 
 An' then we seet oS t'ort whoam. 
 But we hadn't gone fur when a ruck o' big lads 
 
 Bawled eawt to us, " Heaw's yo'r poor feet ?" 
 So we thanked 'em for axin', an' towd 'em, Ave thowt 
 
 When we geet eawt o' th' " Nook " they'd be reet. 
 
 TII. 
 
 Neaw there's nob'dy needs tackle these " Daisy Xook 
 lads, 
 
 An' thmk they can plague 'em for nowt ; 
 For they're up to ^' a thing or two," even deawntheer 
 
 They're noan hawve as " green " as we thowt. 
 But they shouldn't be flats wi' o th' larnin' they 'n had 
 
 For they aren't so fur off a good schoo'; 
 We're noan mich surprised at 'em being so shai'p, 
 
 When they live so near th' 'Bridge as they do. 
 
92 A PEEP AT " DAISY NOOK," 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Well, we toddled off back, an' tli' moon shone breet. 
 
 An' we 0 londed whoamTabeawt ten ; 
 An* said one to another we wouldn't be long 
 
 Afore we o went theer again. 
 We feel rare an' weel pleased wi' th' journey we'n had 
 
 An' thank Brieeley for writin' his book, 
 It it hadn't bin for him, aw feel certain o' this, 
 
 We should never ha' seen " Daisy N ook." 
 
I. 
 
 HA'ET livin' at thi country seat. 
 Among 0 th* gents an' nobs; 
 Tha's sarvant girls to cook thi meat. 
 
 An' do thi o thi jobs. 
 Awm lodgin' here wi' Bridget Yates, 
 At th' hut near th' ceaw-lone well; 
 Aw mend mi stockin's, pill th' potates^ 
 An' wesh mi shiirts misel'. 
 
THEE an' me. 
 II. 
 
 Tha wears a finer cooat nor me, 
 
 Tlii purse is better lined; 
 An' fortin's lavished moor o' tliee 
 
 Nor th' rest o' human kind. 
 Life's storms 'at rage areawnd thi yed, 
 
 An' pelt soa hard at me, 
 Till mony a toime aw Ve wished aw'm dyed, 
 
 But seldom trouble thee. 
 
 III. 
 
 Tha'rt rich i' o this world can give, 
 
 Tha's silver an' tha's gowd; 
 But me, —aw find it hard to live, 
 
 Awm poor, an' gettin' owd ; 
 These fields an' lones awm ramblin' through — 
 
 They o belong to thee; 
 Aw've only just a yard or two 
 
 To ceawr in when aw dee. 
 
THEE AN' ME. 
 
 95 
 
 Wlien tha rides eawt, tli' folks o area wild • 
 
 Stond gapin' up at thee, 
 Because tha'rt worth ten theawsand peawnd, 
 
 But scarcely notice me. 
 Aw trudge abeawt fro' spot to spot, 
 
 An' nob'dy seems to care; 
 They never seek my humble cot, 
 
 To ax me heaw aw fare. 
 
 If tha should dee, there's lots o' folk 
 
 Would fret an' cry, no deawi:; 
 When aw shut up they'll only joke. 
 
 An' say, " He's just gone eawt, — 
 Well, never heed him, let him go, 
 
 An' find another port; 
 We're never to a chap or two, 
 
 We'n plenty moor o' th' sort." 
 
96 
 
 THEE an' me. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Tha'U have a stone placed o'er thi grave 
 
 To shew thi name an' age ; 
 An' 0 tha's done 'at's good an' brave, 
 
 Be seen o' history's page. 
 When aw get tumbled into th' greawnd 
 
 There'll ne'er be nowt to show 
 Who's restin' neath that grassy meawnd, 
 
 An' nob'dy '11 want to know. 
 
 VII. 
 
 But deawn i' th' grave, what spoils o th' sport, 
 
 No ray o' leet can shine, — 
 An' th' worms below can hardly sort 
 
 Thi pampered clay fro' mine. 
 So when this world for th' next tha swaps, 
 
 Tak wi' thi under th' stone 
 Thi cooat ov arms, an' bits o' traps, 
 
 Or else tha'U ne'er be Imown. 
 
THEE an' me. 
 
 97 
 
 VIII. 
 
 But up above there's One 'at sees 
 
 Through th' heart o' every mon ; 
 An' he 11 just find thee as tha dees. 
 
 So dee as weel as t' con ; 
 An' aw'll do th' same owd friend an' then, 
 
 Wi' 0 eawr fauts forgiven, 
 P'rhaps thee an' me may meet again. 
 
 An' boath shake honds i' heaven. 
 
%iv &nma Inow wM m'ti k do xvi' 
 tm){ Jim* 
 
 W dunno know what we're to do wi' eawr Jim, 
 For he 's drunk every neet ov his loife ; 
 An' crackin' his skull, or breakin' a limb, 
 Or else peighlin' an' punsin' his woife : 
 He 's as mad as a bull, when he 's drink in his yead, 
 
 An' he gabbles an' talks loike a foo'; 
 Aw wish yo' could just yer him gruntin' i' bed, 
 Yo'd laff till yo' split reet i' two ! 
 
AW DUNNO KNOW, ETC. 
 
 90 
 
 II. 
 
 They'n a noice little cherry-faced thing ov a brat ; 
 
 Aw've just met it, neaw, as awVe come ; 
 Aw gan it some parkin' aw had i' mi hat, 
 
 An' a haupney, an' towd it t'rmi whoam, 
 God bless it ! aw've mony a toime wish'd it wur mine, 
 
 Aw'd beigh it a couple o' frocks ; — 
 An' some noice little trousers, wi' edgin' soa fine. 
 
 An' some slippers, an' red an' white socks. 
 
 III. 
 
 Iv his feyther 'd a heart worth a fig in his breast, 
 
 He could n't help feelin' reet glad 
 To see little Charley well fed, an' well drest, 
 
 An' he'd do o he could for that lad ; — 
 He'd tak him a walkin', an' point him to th' sky, 
 
 An' tell him, 'at far up above, 
 Wur a beautiful place for good folk when they die, — 
 
 A place full o' glory an' love. 
 
100 AW DOTNO KNOW WHAT WE'RE 
 
 It hurts me to think dv his poor, patient woife, 
 
 Por hoo's gradely fagg'd eawt wi' eawr Jim ; 
 Poor woman ! his conduct 11 shorten her loife, 
 
 'For hoo's every day frettin' o'er him. 
 "We wur talkin' o' this i' eawr heawse th' other week. 
 
 An' mi mother gan mony a deep sigh ; 
 Big tears rowled deawn her pale, furrowed cheek, 
 
 An' mi feyther's an' mine were n't dry. 
 
 V. 
 
 It's seldom these een are mich troublet wi' weet« 
 
 Eut aw leet an odd drop or two pass, 
 Tor aw could n't weel mestur mi feelin's that neet, 
 
 As aw thowt heaw he treated yond lass, 
 There 's her feythur an' mother, — owd Hannah an' Raif 
 
 Livin' deawn i' th' white cottage below ; — 
 It's plain to be seen they're fast trudgin' to th' grave. 
 
 Heart brocken o'er Mary, aw know. 
 
 I 
 
TO DO WI EAWE JIM. 
 
 101 
 
 VI. 
 
 Til' owd chap's often talked ov his troubles to me ; 
 
 Aw remember weel one Sunday neet, 
 He said he could clap his grey yead deawn an' dee, 
 
 Iv eawr Jim would be sober an' reet. 
 0 what a thick gloom it has spread o' areawnd, 
 
 "Wheer once nowt but sunshine wur seen ; 
 An' heart brocken friends are fast tumblin' i' th 
 greawnd, 
 
 Wi' big, scaldin' tears i' their een ! 
 
ON, tha howds deawn thi jead, loike a thief, 
 An' tha's noan getten tli' pluck ov a leawse; 
 Neaw, what's th' use on thee nursin thi grief? 
 
 Ger up, or aw'U gie thee a seawse. 
 Mon, tha'rt welly a shawm to be seen; 
 
 Are t' meawtin', or what dusta ail ? 
 Come, mop up that weet fro' thi een, 
 For aw've browt thee some bacon an' male. 
 
WHAT'S UP Wl' THEE, TUM ? 
 
 Aw dar say tha'rt hungry, owd lad, 
 
 An' thi woife theer, hoo looks loike a ghost; 
 An' yore Billy, he's welly as bad; 
 
 An' yore Nelly, poor thing, hoo looks lost. 
 So fot thi owd fryin' pon here. 
 
 An' do 'em a coUop or two. 
 An' aw'll run for a pint o' smo beer ' 
 
 Fro' Mally's near th' Methodist Schoo'. 
 
 III. 
 
 " Howd on, Jim, we need no smo drink, 
 
 We can manage beawt swillin' it deawn ; 
 An' thank thi, aw mony a toime think 
 
 Tha'rt th' best-natured chap i' this teawn.^ 
 God bless thee, an' thank thee again; 
 
 Iv it wumo for thee an' yore Sam 
 Bringin' summat to eat neaw an' then, 
 
 Aw believe we should o have to clam 
 
104 
 
 what's up wi' thee, tum? 
 
 lY. 
 
 " This momin' owd Alice, th' next dur, 
 
 Cooiii in wi a pot-full o' tay; 
 An' oil! some an' thankful we wur. 
 
 For it's o we'n had t' liye on to-day. 
 Aw've bin eawt a beggin' sin noon. 
 
 Just look heaw mi stockin's are wet; 
 It's wi' havin' sich holes i' mi shoon 
 
 But tha knows, Jim, they're th' best one can get." 
 
 V. 
 
 Well, well, lad, aw^ know heaw yo' are, 
 
 An' a\™' noan so mich better misel, 
 Heaw long aw may have owt to spare 
 
 It's hard for a body to tell. 
 But as long as we'n owt we can give 
 
 (Aw speak for misel an' eawr Sam). 
 We'll help an owd shopmate to live — 
 
 We'll see 'at tha'rt noan left to clam. 
 
what's up wi' thee, tum? 
 
 VI. 
 
 Send yore Nelly deawn yonder to neet — 
 Aw meon to th' owd cobbler's i' th' fowd — 
 
 An aw' 11 beigli thee some shoon to thi feet, 
 For tha'rt gettin thi deoth wi' cowd. 
 
 An aw'U speak to mi friend Mrs. Jones, 
 To look thi eawt summat for th' woife, 
 
 For hoo's getten nowt t' cover her bones; 
 
 Aw never seed th' loike i' my loife ! 
 
 YII. 
 
 Hang it, Tum, lad, just hearken to me, 
 
 An' cheer up as weel as tha con; 
 Tha's noan bin forgetten, tha'U see; 
 
 There's folk as can feel for thee, mon. 
 It's hard to keep pinchin' aw know. 
 
 When one's clemmin' he conno bo fret; 
 But there's reawm i' th' world yet for us o, 
 
 Tha's no need to hang thisel yet! 
 
106 what's up wi' thee, tum? 
 
 yiii. 
 
 Oh! it maks weary wark, does this war. 
 
 For there's theawsands i' th' street, one can see, 
 Poor, starved-lookin' things as they are — 
 
 As ragged an' as hungry as thee. 
 Aw never wur one as could write, 
 
 Or aw'd tell somb'dy summut, by gum! 
 But as long as aw've getten a bite 
 
 Tha shall have a share, that tha shall,Tum ! 
 
HA'RT welcome, little bonny brid, 
 But shouldn't ha' come just when tha 
 Toimes are bad. 
 We're short o' pobbies for eawr Joe, 
 But that, of course, tha did'nt know, 
 Did ta, lad ? 
 
WELCOME BONNY BRID. 
 
 II. 
 
 Aw've often yeard mi feyther tell 
 'At when aw coom i' th' world misel 
 
 Trade wur slack ; 
 An' neaw it's hard wark pooin' throo, — 
 But aw munna fear thee, iv aw do 
 
 Tha'Ugoback. 
 
 III. 
 
 Cheer up ! these toimes '11 awter soon ; 
 Aw'm beawn to beigh another spoon — 
 
 One for thee ; 
 An', as tha's sich a pratty face, 
 Aw'll let thee have eawr Charley's place 
 
 On mi knee. 
 
 IV. 
 
 God bless thee, love, aw'm fain tha'rt come. 
 Just try an' mak thiselawhoam : 
 What ar't co'd? 
 
WELCOME BONNY BRID. 
 
 Tha'rt loike thi mother to a tee, 
 But tha's thi feyther's nose aw see, 
 Well aw'm blow'd ! 
 
 V. 
 
 Come, come, tha' needn't look so shy, 
 Aw am no' blackin' thee, not I ; 
 
 Settle deawn, 
 An' tak this hanp'ney for thisel', 
 There's lots o' sugar-sticks to sell 
 
 Deawn i' th' teawn. 
 
 Aw know when furst aw coom to th' leet 
 Aw're fond o' owt 'at tasted sweet ; 
 
 Tha'U be th' same. 
 But come, tha's never towd thi dad 
 What he's to co thee yet, mi lad — 
 
 What's thi name ? 
 
no 
 
 WELCOME BONNY BRID. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Hush ! hush ! tha munno cry this way, 
 But get this sope o' cinder tay 
 
 While it's warm ; 
 Mi mother used to give it me, 
 When aw wur sich a lad as thee, 
 In her arm. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Hush a babby, hush a bee- 
 Ob, what a temper ! dear a me 
 
 Heaw tha skroikes i 
 Here's a bit o' sugar, sithee ; 
 Howd thi noise, an' then aw'U gie thee 
 
 Owt tha loikes. 
 
 IX. 
 
 We'n nobbut getten coarsish fare, 
 But eawt o' this tha'st ha' thi "share, 
 Never fear. 
 
WELCOME BOKNY BRID. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Aw hope tha'U neyer want a meal, 
 But alius fill thi bally weel 
 While tha'rt here. 
 
 X. 
 
 Thi feyther's noan bin wed so long, 
 An' yet tha sees he's middlin' throng 
 Wi'yo' 0. 
 Besides thi little brother Ted, 
 We'n one up steers, asleep i' bed 
 Wi' eawr Joe. 
 
 XI. 
 
 But tho' w^e'n childer two or three. 
 We'll mak' a bit o' reawm for thee, — 
 
 Bless thee, lad ! 
 Tha'rt th' prattiest brid we han i' th' nest ; 
 Come, hutch up closer to mi breast — 
 
 Aw'm thi dad. 
 
A. 
 
 Allus. Always, (from the two words all and way) i.e., all 
 the way on or through, perpetually. The pronouncia- 
 tion of this word does not vary much in all the North 
 of England dialects. 
 
 Ash UN. Ashton, the town of Ashton-under-Lyne. 
 
 Ax AND AX'd. Ask and asked. This is from the Anglo- 
 Saxon acsian ; the provincial pronounciation is there- 
 fore not unnatural. 
 
 B. 
 
 Baggin. The name given to the labourer's luncheon, pro- 
 bably because carried in a bag or wallet. In the neigh- 
 bourhood of Manchester it is the name given to the 
 evening meal. Tea-time is often called baggin-time. 
 
 Beawt. Without. This form comes nearer Saxon butan 
 which signifies unless or without, as in the old Scotch 
 saw. " Touch not the cat hut the glove." 
 
 Bin. Been, from A. S. heon, to be. 
 
 BiSHOPS-i-HoLES. Pinafores in holes. This word is generally 
 used for pinafore in this locality. The compiler of these 
 notes was once startled by a colloquy to this effect : 
 Mother: "Where's t 'bishop's lass ?" Girl: " I'th' wesh 
 tub." 
 
 Brids. Birds. 
 
 Brierley i.e. Benjamin Brierley, an operative wai'per, whose 
 ''Lancashire Sketches," written in a style both masterly 
 and winning abound in life-like and graphic pictures, well 
 told, racy anecdotes and honest, hearty, genial sentiment. 
 These " sketches " are gems of truthful delineation. 
 
 BusTiAN. The name given to a gathering of the thumb or 
 finger. 
 
116 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 C. 
 
 Clammin. Hungering, from the Anglo-Saxon verb clam, or 
 clem, mostly derived from the Anglo-Saxon claem, which 
 signifies to smear, or stick together, because the intestines 
 and bowels are hj hunger, as it were, stuck together. 
 But in the Danish and Icelandic, is the word klemmian ; 
 signifying, to pinch, which is the most probable deriva- 
 tion. 
 
 Clooas. Clothes. 
 
 Clogs. Wooden shoes, as Stowe calls them. These are 
 generally worn by the operatives. With the movement 
 made in tending the looms, and climbing the flights of 
 factory stairs, the operatives acquire a peculiar way, and 
 make a peculiar noise in walking. This noise, as heard 
 on the street-pavement, marks their employment wherever 
 heard, whether in Manchester or Carlisle, Preston or 
 Ashton. It is a fact vf orthy of record, that during the 
 years 1862-3, upwards of 9,000 pairs of clogs were given 
 away to the distressed, operatives by the Relief Committee 
 of Stalybridge. 
 
 Cob. a lump. This word is cognate with the word cop. 
 
 OOWD. Cold. This is evidently the Teutonic kaud, or JDutch 
 koud, 
 
 D. 
 
 Dan-o'-Bobs, i.e.^ Dan the Son of Bob; a very common way 
 of expressing pedigree in this locality, as, for example — 
 Biirs-o'-Jack's and Tom's-o'-Bill's. 
 
 E. 
 
 Een. Eyes. A. S., eag. 
 
 F. 
 
 Fawse. Cunning, false. In many parts of the North of Eng- 
 land, this word fawse, is applied to anything which is 
 corrupt or decayed. 
 
 Fauts. Faults. 
 
 Feaw. Foul, ill-favoured. " Hoc looked feaw," i.e., she 
 looked disagreeable, or ugly. 
 
GLOSSARY. 
 
 117 
 
 FoAKS. Folks ; from A. S., folc, people. This word occurs 
 in Norfolk, Suffolk, and Folkstone. 
 
 *' folic and Lowlan'/o/^, 
 
 Unco'/o/^' and kenn'd folk ; 
 Folk aboon folk, i' the yard, 
 But nae folk like our dim folk. 
 FoYAit. Fire. Saxon y^/ar. 
 
 G. 
 
 Gan. Gave. This dialectic form occurs as early as the year 
 1380, in Peter Langtoft's Chronicle of Edward I.'s Coin- 
 age. 
 
 Getten. Gotten. This form occurs in Chaucer's prologue 
 to the Canterbury Tales : 
 
 " For he had gelten him yet no benefice." 
 
 Gradely. Decent, properly. This is one of the most strik- 
 ing of the current coins of the Lancashire Dialect ; the 
 word is probablj^ of Celtic origin. In the Highlands of 
 Scotland, if a thing is well and quickly done, it is called 
 graddan. 
 
 Har-STONES. Hearthstones. A friend kindly suggests garth 
 as the etymon. 
 
 Han. Have. In Chaucer's Parson's Tale, we have this ex- 
 pression : — "Forsooth, quod the child, ye ought first 
 correcte youreselfe, that han lost al your pacience for the 
 gilt of a child.'* 
 
 HoNT. Hand. Hond is often used. 
 
 Honsomest. Handsomest. 
 
 Hoo's. She's. Hoo is evidently heo the Anglo-Saxon femin- 
 ine of the pronoun he. 
 
 HUNDERT o' Coal. A hundred- weight of coal. 
 
 Hunter's Tower. This is a tower situated on a beautiful 
 eminence, overlooking Dukinfield and Stalybridge, built 
 by F. D. Astley, in the year 180G, as a rendezvouz for 
 Hunters. 
 
 K. 
 
 Kest. Cast, i.e. compute. From Danish Raster, The word 
 as now used in S. Lancashire is found in Robert de 
 Brunne's account of the alteration of the coinage by 
 Edward L in 1282. 
 
 " Old used traitoures ilk at other hand kestes. " 
 
118 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 L. 
 
 LoED Mayor o' London. The Lord Mayor referred to was 
 the late highly-esteemed Sir Wm. Cubitt, M. P., recently 
 deceased, whose name and benevolent exertions will be 
 enshrined for many a long year in the hearts and memor- 
 ies of the distressed Lancashire operatives. It was under 
 his auspices that the Mansion House Committee for the 
 Relief of the suffering factory workers was formed, and 
 his wisdom, skill, promptitude, and genuine sympathy in 
 his position as Chairman of that Committee are worthy 
 of everlasting remembrance. 
 
 LoNES. Lanes. In Cumberland lonnin is used. 
 
 Leeten. Lighten. Leet and leeten are words in general 
 use in N. of f ngland, The root is Saxon leoht. 
 
 Lusty. Strong, vigorous. This is an Anglo-Saxon word used 
 in the north of England of persons very stout. They are 
 in no peril of death, but are lusty and ^trong^— Psalms— 
 Book of Common Pi ayer Version, 
 
 M. 
 
 Meawtin. Moultin, i.e.^ shedding or changing fea- 
 thers, becoming bald or bare. This is from the Welsh 
 Moel. Moel Fammau signifies the bald or bare moun- 
 tain. 
 
 Mop Up. Wipe up. Mop is probably from the Latin mappa, 
 a table napkin. 
 
 N. 
 
 NoBBUT. None but, only. This word is used in Wickliff 's 
 
 Bible— see St. John i., 18. 
 Nee. Nigh. The root is Anglo- Saxon wea^. 
 
 O. 
 
 O MACKS. All sorts, all kinds. This is a general expression 
 in the North of England. An old Cumberland Fisher- 
 man was one day asked what sort of fish he had caught, 
 to which he replied, Aw macks, big en lile, aw macks." 
 
 OWD. This is a considerable variation from the dialects of 
 the north where the word is written and pronounced 
 auld the Scotch form of the word. Oldham is generally 
 called Owdham. 
 
GLOSSARY. 
 
 119 
 
 P. 
 
 PoLLYANTS. Pollyanthuscs. Flowers often cultivated in 
 cottagers' gardens. 
 
 PoRiiiTCH. Porridge, corrupted from porrets, an obsolete 
 term for leeks or scallions, a necessary ingredient in por- 
 ridge or broth. Porringer is a vessel used for taking- 
 porridge. The root is the Latin sectile porrum^ leek pot- 
 tage. 
 
 Pow. To cut the hair of the head ; the word is, no doubt, 
 from po//, the head. 
 
 POWFAG-GED. Wearied out in both body and mind. This 
 may refer to either head or hand. 
 
 Pig- and Whistle. An inn sign. It is a corruption of Peg 
 and Wassail. In the Wassail bowl the liquor was 
 divided into equal quantities by means of pegs placed 
 one above another to make men drink fair. 
 
 K. 
 
 Bed Bill§, Daisy Nook, or Waterhouses. A small, yet 
 beautiful hamlet, situated near Ashton-under-Lyne. The 
 above poetical name was given to it by Mr. Benjamin 
 Brierley. 
 
 Reet. Right. The Anglo-Saxon is riht. This word is often 
 
 used for " very." 
 Eeccon. Reckon. In the northern districts it is racken." 
 
 The word is evidently the Norse rakna. The A, Sax. is 
 ricnan. 
 
 Ruck. A heap, a mass. A great quantity. 
 
 S. 
 
 Sallary. Celery, a plant greatly cultivated in the manu- 
 facturing districts. Celery shows for prizes are very 
 common. It is always the endeavour of the cottage 
 gardeners to have some fine sticks of celery ready against 
 the Wakes." 
 
 Shoddy. Coarse material, whether of wool or cotton, hence 
 coarse food. 
 
 Sewin' Classes. Such classes established by the various re- 
 lief committees during the cotton famine have proved a 
 great blessing and safeguard to the young women and 
 girls usually employed in factories. 
 
120 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Sen. Say. The Anglo-Saxon is secgan. The dialectic word 
 
 is evidently a contraction of this. 
 ^Snifter. Snivel. Sui-Gothic. Snyfa. 
 Steers. Stairs. Anglo-Saxon, StcEger, 
 SwiLLiN. To drink greedily; to drench. 
 Tackin and Taen. Taking and taken, from Anglo-Saxon 
 
 tdBcan. 
 Teighert. Tired. 
 
 Thisel. Thyself. Himself is generally called hissel. 
 
 Tit. Horse or pony. In some instances this word is applied 
 
 to a woman, in others to a bird. 
 T'oRT. Tov/ards. 
 
 Turner's Eowd. Turner's Fold, the enclosures about farm- 
 houses and steadings are generally called " fowds." 
 
 U 
 
 Up th' Speawt. A general expression here of things taken 
 to the Pawnbrokers; whatever is in pledge is said to be 
 up th' speawt, 
 
 W 
 
 Waugh. Edwin Waugh. whose Lancashire Songs" have 
 made his name a "household word " among the people. 
 Mr Waugh is deservedly a great favourite of the people in 
 Lancashire, and many of his songs are gems of dialectic 
 composition. 
 
 Wed. To marry, from Welsh gweddu, to yoke. 
 
 Welly. Well nigh ; very near. 
 
 MANCHESTER : 
 
 JOHN HEYWOOD, PRINTER BY STEAM POW ER, 143, DEANSGATE.