Our Mary's Bonnet

Voices from upstairs

"Ow, Martha; Wheer's thee put me shirt?
Mi cleearn un, does tha knaw?
Ah've lukked, an Ah can't find it,
It's no-oan up here in t'draw.

"Did Ah luk wheer? Aye, course Ah did!
Ah've hed t'draw upside dahn.
If summat doesn't happen sooin,
Ah's ne'er get wheer Ah'm bahn.

"Well, flippin 'eck, Ah'v f'un it nah,
Just like me - in a rush
Aye, theer it wor - laid aht on't top,
Ah'm as daft as onny brush.

"Ow Martha, as tha seen me stud?
Noa lass, Ah didn't swear!
In t'ornament? Ah knaw, which one - 
There's thahsands of 'em heer!

"In t'blew un? Reight Ah'll have a luk
...which blew un does tha mean?
Ah've lukked in t'purple an t'lilac uns
...all reight, Ah''l luck ageean.

"Nah wheer's me britches gotten to?
Tha what? The're under t'bed?
Nah, who did that? The must be daft
...Aye, DAFT, that's what Ah said.

Awww, under t'mattress, gerrin creased!
Ah though tha meant on t'floor!
Ah knaw Ah pu'em theer mi sen - 
Ah've ad em ther afore.

"All reight, all reight, Ah'm nearly donned,
Just gi mi booits a rub,
Ow, si thee lass, it's hawf past eight
Ah moan't be late for t'club!"

 

Photo from old old-chum.com

The Friday Guest

By Lily Duncan-Birkhead

As ah look at t'meat in supermarket 

Laid in a glaring row o glass an chrome

Sight of it sets mi thinkin of another time, another world,

Wen I wer young, at home. 

Mr Binks called ivvery Friday 

He'd tap on t'door an bustle in

You could tell hi were a butcher

T'smell o fresh meat seemed to cling

There wer a cold look abaht him

- sort o purply-red -

An "now then" alus first words he said

T'table, in t'middle o't kitchen, wer square wi four fat legs

An on it t'meat plate were waitin, an a big white basin for t'eggs

Mr Binks would stand there clutching his apron

Mi Mam would stand clutching her purse

An they'd exchange a few words o wisdom baht weather 

An if it wer gerrin better or worse

Then id dip down into his apron 

Like a conjurer into an 'at

An pull aht a joint o sirloin saying

"It's a nice bit o beef is that".

Mi mam would eye it in steely silence

From ivvery angle his offerin she'd view

An even t'dog held his breath while we waited - 

Till she nodded an said "Aye, it'll do."

He'd relax an start liftin t'eggs aht,

Displayin em one bi one

As he counted em all in ter t'basin

Nobody spoke a word until he'd done

T'eggs were all fresh - just new laid 

That were med quite clear

Ther were still warm wi t'muck on 

An a feather stuck here an there

Then mi Mam would pay him an hav a grumble

He'd stuff t'money in is wallet an sigh

"Farmers are poor an ill done-to" he'd say

She'd give im an owd fashioned look, sniff, an say "Aye"

Mi Mam threatened to "get meat somewhere else"

For 20 years or more

But each week had a Friday in it

An Mr Binks would tap at our door

She'd reckon naught to supermarkets, if mi Mam were ere today

Wi t'meat in paper mâché dishes in a glaring row of glass an chrome

She's still av Mr Binks wi his apron, bringing t'eggs wi muck on

An a nice bit o sirloin on t'bone.



Photo from old & welsh (National Library of Wales on Flickr)  oldandwelsh.tumblr.com
This is John Thomas c.1885