T'Prop Notches

One wesh day last summer
To t'carpenter's shop
Our Kate sent 'er 'usband
Ter buy a new prop

T'boss carpenter cut him
A varry nice job
An charged 'im no more 
Than a couple o bob

As Fred hugged it sideways
Across yond shop floor
He fair 'ad a struggle
Ter ger outta t'door

"NAY, t'other road round!"
T'boss carpenter cried,
As t'village policeman 
Were passin outside

Then out like a lancer
Went Fred wi 'is prop
An what were 'is target?
What else but yond cop!

"Ah'm sorry!" said Fred,
As e saw t'bobby drop,
"Ah'm in rather an 'urry,
Ah'v no time ter stop.

"Fer two a three minutes,
Until Ah'm off t'scene
Here's hoping thi helmet
Stops ovver thi aeen."

An off e skidaddled,
But somehow bi then
He'd gotten his clothes prop
Turned sideways agen

A reight skittle alley
He made o t'main street
Each Tom, Dick n Harry
Were soon off 'is feet

Except fer Sam Bailey,
Who havin taken t'trouble
Ter tee a loose bootlace,
Wer bent ammost double

Sam didn't escape altogether, at that,
For as t'prop
Passed over 'im,
Off went 'is hat!

At last home Fred landed
A bit short o putt
When t'missus addressed 'im
"Tha's ta'en long enough!"

Then, lookin' it ovver,
"An trust thee to fotch..."
Said Kate, "A new clothes prop
Wi art any notch!"

"That's easily remedied, 
Leave it to me, I'll fix it..."
Said Fred, "In a jiffy,
Tha'll see!"

An standin' t'new clothes prop
Agen his back wall
He went for a saw,
'Is long ladder an all.

On t'first run o t'ladder 
He'd hardly set fooit,
When Kate cried: "NAY, bone head!
That's no way to do it!

"Tha's allus been lackin
In simple good sense,
I nivver knew nob'dy
So dateless an dense!"

Then on her instructions
He went off inside
To t'back bedroom winder,
An opened it wide

An down on t'back flagstones
Kate steadied yond prop
As Fred, up aboon,
Put a notch in at t'top!

Mi Mam's New Rug

Yer mo'ant put yer coit dahn,
It'll go wi a tug!
Mi Mam's cuttin listins,
Cos she's broddin a rug.

She's gotten her canvas
All ready on t'frame,
An mi Fatha's owd britches
Aren't awt lookin lame.

There's mi Aunt Sally's frock,
An mi Uncle Tom's vest,
An my short blue coit
At once wor mi best.

Ther's all sorts o' colours
An all sorts o' stuff
But, lookin at that pile,
There weant be enough.

Mi Mam knows were they're all
bahn ter bi put,
Wi'v all bin gean scissors
an orders ter cut!

Wi'v lumps on us fingers
wi cuttin them strips
If shoo esnt gor enough,
We'll ev all ed us chips.

Na, shoo's got broddin,
an pullin' em through - 
All rahnd aatside es
ter bi navy blue.

When shoo gets ter t'middle
(that's t'coloured part)
Shoo gives me t'job 
o sortin em aht.

It's gotten ter t'weekend
and t'rugs lukkin grand!
It's all working aht,
just as shoo'd planned.

Ther's a diamond in t'middle -
a lovely rich green -
It's ahr Mary's frock
(But Ah duan't think she's seen!)

It'll be ready fer Christmas,
Shoo'll see at it's done.
...but am sure she'll nivver shek it,
It must weigh a ton!

But it's a lovely new rug,
all med wi owd stuff -
when yer pot yer bare feet on it,
It feels just like fluff.

It's neat an it's pretty, 
By Gum, Mam's no mug!
Shoo know's what shoo's doing
when shoo's broddin a rug.

Photo by Black Country Living Museum

How t'first Yorkshire Puddin wer made

Hi Waiter! Excuse me a minute,
Nah listen I'm not findin fault, but dear me,
The taties are lovely ...the beef is alreight...
But what sort o' puddin is this?

It's what?! Yorkshire Puddin? Nah come come come
It's what?! Yorkshire Puddin yer say?
Oh, it's puddin Ah grant yer (some sort o' puddin)
But not YORKSHIRE puddin, nay nay!

The real Yorkshire puddin is a poem in batter,
To make one's an art, not a trade.
Listen to me for Ahm goin to tell yer
How t'first Yorkshire puddin were made.

A young angel on furlough from Heavan
Came flyin above Ilkley Moor,
An th'angel, poor thing, got cramp in her wing,
An cam down at t'owd woman's doar.

Th'owd woman smiled an said "Ee, it's an angel!
Well, Ahm surprised to see thee!
Ah've not seen an angel before, but th'art welcome,
Ah'll mek thee a nice cup an tea!"

Th'angel said, "Ee, thank yer kindly, Ah will."
So they 'ad two o' three cups o' tea,
Three o' four Sally Luns, an' a couple o' buns.
(Angels eat varry lightly, yer see!)

Then th'owd woman looked at the clock an said
"By gum, he's due 'ome from t'mill is my Dan.
You ger on wi yer tea, lass, but yer must excuse me,
Ah must mek t'puddin nah fer t'owd man.

The th'angel jumped up an said:
"Give mi a bowl, flour, watter, eggs, salt an all,
An Ah'll show thee how wi mek puddins in Heaven
For Thomas an Peter an Paul."

Th'owd woman gave her all o' t'things
An th'angel guest pushed back her wings an said "Hush!"
Then she tenderly tickled t'mixture wi t'spoon,
Like an artist would paint wi a brush.

She mixed up that puddin wi Heavenly magic.
She played wi her spoon on that dough...
Like Paderowski would play t'piano,
Or Kriesler would twiddle his bow.

An th'owd woman whispered, "Ah reckon, dear Angel,
T'clouds that Ah see in t'sky,
So fleecy an foamy, it's batter for puddins
For th'angels' dinner on high!

"It's mixed wi t'rain, an it's stirred wi t'rainbow,
An baked in the beautiful sun."
An th'angel kept stirrin, an smiled as she answered:
"An when a star drops, then it's done.

"But jokin apart..." said th'angel,
"The secret o'puddins, made here or above,
Is not in the flour and the watter, but when mixin it,
See that yer mix it wi love."

An when it wer done, she popped it in th'oven
An said ter th'owd woman: "Goodbye!"
Then off she flew, leavin t'first Yorkshire Puddin
That ivver wer made, and that's why:

It melts in yer mouth like snow in the glove,
As light as a maiden's first kiss,
As soft as the fluff on the breast of a dove,
NOT elephant's leather, like THIS!

A Neet When Tha's Nowt To Do

Why, lad, Ah'm sewer tha'rt ommost done,
This ovvertime is killin;
'Twor allus soa sin th'world begun
They put o' them at's willin.

Tha's ne'er a neet ter call thi own -
Tha starts furst thing o' Mundy,
An works thi fingers fair ter t'booan
Booath day an need wol Sundy.

Aw know tha addles extra pay -
We couldn't weel do baghy it,
But if tha'rt browt hooam sick some day,
We'st ha to do withaat it.

Aw seldom get to see thi face,
Exceptin when tha'rt aitin;
Neet after neet aw caar ith'place
Wol Ah'm fair sick o' waitin.

An when that comes, tha'rt off to bed,
Befoor aw've chance o' spaikin,
An th'childer luk, Aw've ofttimes sed,
Like Orphans when they're laikin.

Come hooam at six o'clock to-morn,
An let wark go ter hummer!
Thi face is growin white an worn:-
Tha'll nivver last all summer.

...Besides, ther's lots o' little jobs
At tha can tak a hand in...
That kist o'drawers has lost two nobs
An th'table leg wants mendin.

Ther's th' fixin up oth' winderblind,
An th' chaymer want whiteweshin,
Th' wall's fill wi marks o'ivvery kind -
(Yond lads desarve a threshin)

Aw can't shake th' carpet bi misen,
Nor lig it square an straightly:-
Th' childer mud help me nah an then,
But they ne're do nowt reightly.

That bed o' awrs wants shekin up,
All th' flocks has stuck together -
Tha knows they all want braikin up,
Or they'll get tough as leather.

An th' coilhoil wants a coit o'lime,
Then it'll smell much sweeter,
An th' celler should be done this time,
It makes it soa much leeter.

Ther's lots o' little things beside:-
All th childer's clogs want spetchin,
Jack's hurt his toa, tha'll mek em wide,
Wi varry little stretchin.

Besides, tha raillee wants a rest,
For a neet or maybe two,
An tha can fix theas trifles best,
Some neet when tha's nowt to do!

Awn not like some at cannot feel for other,
Ah assure thi:
Tha's tewd until tha'rt owt but weel,
An nowt but rest can cure thi.

Soa come hoam soon an spend a neet,
Wi me an Jack an Freddy,
They'll think it's ivver such a treat
An Aw'll have th' whitewesh ready.

Happy 100th Birthday, Ethel!

Heart Radio Yorkshire popped in for a visit, just as Ethel had opened her card from Her majesty the Queen and
telegram from Secretary of State Iain Duncan-Smith.

Later that afternoon, Rothwell's Jubilee Choir arrived and sang  a full concert for all those living at the same home as Ethel - it was wonderful!

As was a large gathering of Ethel's friends and family from London, Scotland and everywhere in between to wish her well.

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