Part 19

A Kuss (1912)

John Malham-Dembleby

Ye may bring me gowd bi t' bowlful, Gie me lands bi t' mile, Fling me dewy roses, Stoor(1) set on my smile. Ye may caar(2) ye daan afoor me, Castles for me build, Twine me laurel garlands, Let sweet song be trilled. Ye may let my meyt be honey, Let my sup be wine, Gie me haands an' hosses, Gie me sheep an' kine. Yit one flaid(3) kuss fra her would gie Sweeter bliss to me Nor owt at ye could finnd to name, Late(4) ye through sea tul sea.

I've seen her hair gleam gowden In t' Kersmas yollow sun, An' ivery inch o' graand she treeads Belang her sure it mun. Her smile is sweet as roses, An' sweeter far to me, An' praad she hods her heead up, As lass o' heigh degree. Bonnie are green laurel leaves, I'd sooiner my braa feel T' laughin' lips o' t' lass I love, Though bays be varry weel.

I'm varry fond o' singin', What bonnier could be Nor my fair lass hersen agate(5) A-singin' love to me? It's reight to live on spice an' sich, An' sup a warmin' glass, But sweet-stuff's walsh,(6) an' wine is cowd, Aside my lovely lass. Tak ye your haands an' hosses, Tak ye your sheep an' kine; To finnd my lass ower t' hills I'll ride, She sal be iver mine.

1. Value. 2. Cower. 3. Trembling. 4. Search. 5. Busy. 6. Insipid.

Huntin' Song

Richard Blakeborough

It's neet an' naa we're here, lads, We're in for gooid cheer, lads; Yorkshiremen we all on us are, Yorkshiremen for better or war(1); We're tykes an' we're ghast(2) uns, We're paid uns an' fast uns, Awther for better or awther for war!

All t' lot

Then shaat till ye've gor hooast,(3) lads, Sing, Yorkshiremen, wer tooast, lads, Wer king, wer heeath, wer haands, lads, Wer hooam, wer hearth, wer baans,(4) lads."

There's some at nooan are here, lads, Forger em we sal ne'er, lads; Yorkshiremen they all on 'em war, Yorkshiremen yit all on 'em are. There's thrang(5) uns an' looan(6) uns, There's wick uns an' gooan uns, They're all reight somewheer, an' we 'st be no war!

All t' lot

Then shaat till ye've gor hooast, lads, Sing, "Yorkshiremen, wer tooast, lads, Wer king, wer heeath, wer haands, lads, Wer hooam, wer hearth, wer baans, lads."

1. Worse. 2. Spirited. 3. Got hoarse. 4. Children. 5. Busy. 6. Lonely

Spring (1914)

F. J. Newboult

Owd Winter gat notice to quit, 'Cause he'd made sich a pigsty o' t' place, An' Summer leuked raand when he'd flit, An' she says, I"t's a daanreyt disgrace! Sich-like ways! I niver did see sich a haase to come intul i' all my born days!

But Spring says, "It's my job, is this, I'll sooin put things streyt, niver fear. Ye go off to t' Spaws a bit, Miss, An' leave me to fettle up here!" An' sitha! Shoo's donned a owd appron, an' tucked up her sleaves, an' set to, with a witha!

Tha can tell, when t' hail pelts tha like mad, At them floors bides a bit of a scrub; Tha knaws t' flegstuns mun ha' been bad, When she teems(1) aat all t' wotter i' t' tub. Mind thy eyes! When shoo gets hod o' t' long brush an' sweeps aat them chamers, I'll tell tha, t' dust flies!

Whol shoo's threng(2) tha'll be best aat o' t' gate(3): Shoo'll care nowt for soft tawk an' kisses. To tell her thy mind, tha mun wait Whol shoo's getten things ready for t' missis. When shoo's done, Shoo'll doff her owd appron, an' slip aat i' t' garden, an' call tha to come.

Aye, Summer is t' roses' awn queen, An' shoo sits i' her state, grandly dressed; But Spring's twice as bonny agean, When shoo's donned hersen up i' her best Gaan o' green, An' stands all i' a glow,- wi' a smile on her lips an' a leet i' her een.

To t' tips of her fingers shoo's wick.(4) Tha can see t' pulses beat i' her braa. Tha can feel her soft breath comin' quick, An' it thrills tha-tha duzn't knaw haa. When ye part, Them daffydaandillies shoo's kissed an' then gi'en tha--they'll bloom i' thy heart!

1. Pours. 2. Busy. 3 Way. 4. Alive.

Heam, Sweet Heam (1914)

A. C. Watson

When oft at neet I wanders heame To cosy cot an' busy deame, My hardest day's wark seems but leet, When I can get back heame at neet, My wife an' bairns to sit besaade, Aroond my awn bit firesaade. What comfort there's i' steep(1) for me, A laatle prattler on my knee! What tales I have to listen tea! But just at fost there's sike to-dea As niver was. Each laatle dot Can fain agree for t' fav'rite spot. Sike problems they can set for me 'T wad puzzle waaser heeads mebbe. An' questions hawf a scoor they ask, To answer' em wad prove a task; For laatle thowts stray far away To things mysterious, oot o' t' way. An' then sike toffer(2) they torn oot, An' pratty lips begin to poot, If iverything's nut stowed away To cumulate frae day to day. Sike treasures they could niver spare, But gether mair an' mair an' mair In ivery pocket. I've nea doot They've things they think the wo'ld aboot. An' when their bed-taame's drawin' nigh, Wi' heavy heead an' sleepy eye, It's vary laatle din they mak, But slyly try a nap to tak. An' when on t' lats(3) they've gone aboon, I fills my pipe an' sattles do on To have a comfortable smewk. An' then at t' news I has a lewk; Or hods a bit o' talk wi' t' wife, The praade an' comfort o' my life. Cawd winds may blaw, an' snaw-flakes flee, An' neets may be beath lang an' dree, Or it may rain an' rain agean, Sea lang as I've my day's wark dean, I wadn't swap my humble heame For bigger hoose or finer neame. If all could as contented be, There'd be mair joy an' less mis'ry.

1. In store. 2. Odds and ends. 3. Laths.