Part 4

Anonymous

This was written at the time of the Enclosure Acts which robbed the peasent farmer of his rights to use Commons.

Alas! will Roger e'er his sleep forgo, Afore larks sing, or early cocks 'gin Crow, As I've for thee, ungrateful maiden, done, To help thee milking, e'er day wark begun? And when thy well-stripp'd kye(1) would yield no more, Still on my head the reeking kit(2) I bore. And, Oh! bethink thee, then, what lovesome talk We've held together, ganging down the balk, Maund'ring(3) at time which would na for us stay, But now, I ween, maes(4) no such hast away. Yet, O! return eftsoon and ease my woe, And to some distant parish let us go, And there again them leetsome days restore, Where, unassail'd by meety(5) folk in power, Our cattle yet may feed, tho' Snaith Marsh be no more. But wae is me! I wot I fand(6) am grown, Forgetting Susan is already gone, And Roger aims e'er Lady Day to wed; The banns last Sunday in the church were bid. But let me, let me first i' t' churchyard lig, For soon I there must gang, my grief's so big. All others in their loss some comfort find; Though Ned's like me reduc'd, yet Jenny's kind, And though his fleece no more our parson taks, And roast goose, dainty food, our table lacks, Yet he, for tithes ill paid, gets better land, While I am ev'ry o' t' losing hand. My adlings wared,(7) and yet my rent to pay, My geese, like Susan's faith, flown far away; My cattle, like their master, lank and poor, My heart with hopeless love to pieces tore, And all these sorrows came syne(8) Snaith Marsh was no more

1. Well-milked kine (cattle) 2. Pail 3. Finding Fault 4. Makes 5. Mighty 6. Fond, Foolish 7. Earnings spent 8. Since

When at Hame wi' Dad

Anonymous

When at hame wi' dad, We niver had nae fun, sir, Which meade me sae mad, I swore away I'd run, sir. I pack'd up clease(1) sae smart, Ribbed stockings, weastcoats pretty; Wi' money an' leet heart, Tripp'd off to Lunnon city, Fal de ral de ra.

When I did git there I geap'd about quite silly, At all the shows to stare I' a spot call'd Piccadilly. Lord! sike charmin' seights: Bods(2) i' cages thrive, sir', Coaches, fiddles, feights, An' crocodiles alive, sir, Fal de ral de ra.

Then I did gan to see The gentry in Hyde Park, sir, When a lass push'd readely(1) by, To whom I did remark, sir: "Tho' your feace be e'en sae fair, I've seen a bear mair civil." Then, the laatle clease they wear! God! Lunnon is the divil, Fal de ral de ra.

To t' play-house then I goes, Whar I seed merry feaces, An' i' the lower rows Were sarvants keepin' pleaces. The players I saw sean, They managed things quite funny; By gock! they'd honey-mean Afore they'd matrimony. Fal de ral de ra.

Now havin' seen all I could An' pass'd away my time, sir, If you think fit an' good, I'll e'en give up my rhyme, sir. An', sud my ditty please, The poppies in this garden To me would be heart's-ease; If not, I axe your pardon. Fal de ral de ra.

1. Clothes 2. Birds 3. Rudely

I'm Yorkshire too

Anonymous

From A Garland of New Songs, published by W. Appleton, Darlington, 1811.

By t' side of a brig, that stands over a brook, I was sent betimes to school; I went wi' the stream, as I studied my book, An' was thought to be no small fool. I never yet bought a pig in a poke, For, to give awd Nick his due, Tho' oft I've dealt wi' Yorkshire folk, Yet I was Yorkshire too.

I was pretty well lik'd by each village maid, At races, wake or fair, For my father had addled a vast(1) in trade, And I were his son and heir. And seeing that I didn't want for brass, Poor girls came first to woo, But tho' I delight in a Yorkshrre lass, Yet I was Yorkshire too!

To Lunnon by father I was sent, Genteeler manners to see; But fashion's so dear, I came back as I went, And so they made nothing o' me My kind relations would soon have found out What was best wi' my money to do: Says I, "My dear cousins, I thank ye for nowt, But I'm not to be cozen'd by you! For I'm Yorkshire too."

1. Earned a lot.

The Wensleydale Lad

Anonymous

When I were at home wi' my fayther an' mother, I niver had na fun; They kept me goin' frae morn to neet, so I thowt frae them I'd run. Leeds Fair were coomin' on, an' I thowt I'd have a spree, So I put on my Sunday cooat an' went right merrily.

First thing I saw were t' factory, I niver seed one afore; There were threads an' tapes, an' tapes an' silks, to sell by monny a score. Owd Ned turn'd iv'ry wheel, an' iv'ry wheel a strap; "Begor!" says I to t' maister-man, "Owd Ned's a rare strong chap."

Next I went to Leeds Owd Church-- I were niver i' one i' my days, An' I were maistly ashamed o' misel, for I didn't knaw their ways; There were thirty or forty folk, i' tubs an' boxes sat, When up cooms a saucy owd fellow. Says he, "Noo, lad, tak off thy hat."

Then in there cooms a great Lord Mayor, an' over his shooders a club, An' he gat into a white sack-poke,(1) an gat into t' topmost tub. An' then there cooms anither chap, I thinks they call'd him Ned, An' he gat into t' bottommost tub, an' mock'd all t' other chap said.

So they began to preach an' pray, they prayed for George, oor King; When up jumps t' chap i' t' bottommost tub. Says he, "Good folks, let's sing." I thowt some sang varra weel, while others did grunt an' groan, Ivery man sang what he wad, so I sang " Darby an' Joan."(2)

When preachin' an' prayin' were over, an' folks were gangin' away, I went to t' chap i' t' topmost tub. Says I, "Lad, what's to pay?" "Why, nowt," says he, "my lad." Begor! I were right fain, So I click'd hod(3) o' my gret club stick an' went whistlin' oot again.

1. Corn-sack 2. Another reading is "Bobbing Joan." 3. Took hold