F. W. Moorman

“ The literary quality of these almanacs varies greatly, but among their pages will be found many poems, and many prose tales and sketches, which vividly portray the West Riding artisan. Abundant justice is done to his sense of humour, which, if broad and at times even crude, is always good-natured and healthy, as well as to his intense love of the sentimental, which to the stranger lurks hidden beneath a mask of indifference. Incidentally, these almanacs also present a faithful picture of the social history of the West Riding during the greater part of a century. ”

“ In Alderman Ben Turner of Batley Yorkshire possesses a courageous advocate of the social betterment of the working man and woman, and in the midst of a busy life he has, found' time to give utterance to his indignation and his faith in dialect-poems which appeal from the heart to the heart. ”

“ It is hoped, too, that the reader may find much that is interesting in the singing-games, verses and the rhymes which throw light upon the vanishing customs, folklore, and faiths of the county. They serve to lift the veil which hides the past from the present, and to give us visions of a world which is fast passing out of sight and out of memory. It is a world where one may still faintly hear the horns of elfland blowing, and where Hob-trush Hob and little Nanny Button-cap wander on printless feet through the star-lit glades ”

“ In the sincerity of its emotion it is poles apart from the studied sentimentality of the famous lament over the dead ass in Sterne's Sentimental Journey; indeed, in spirit it is much nearer to Burns's "Death of Poor Mailie," though Browne is wholly lacking in that delicate humour which Burns possesses, and which overtakes the tenderness of the poem as the lights and shadows overtake one another among the hills. ”

“ What is still more apparent is that the author is consciously employing dialect words and idioms with the set purpose of illustrating what he calls the "pure Natural Dialect" of Yorkshire; above all, he delights in the proverbial lore of his native county and never misses an opportunity of tagging his conversations with one or other of these homespun proverbs. The poem is too long for our anthology, (2) but I cannot forbear quoting some of these proverbs: "There's neay carrion can kill a craw." "It's a good horse that duz never stumble, And a good wife that duz never grumble." ”

“ Driven from the country-side, where old traditions usually live the longest, it survives amid the smoke-laden atmosphere of cotton-mills and in towns which pride themselves, not without reason, on their love of progress and their readiness to receive new ideas. It is, for our purpose, unfortunate that this fine old play preserves little of the local dialect and is therefore excluded from this anthology. (7) Apart from "The Peace Egg," it is the remote Cleveland country in the North Riding in which the old traditional poetry of Yorkshire has been best preserved. ”

“ If the French effect a landing, Willy has decided to send Mally and the bairns away from the farm, while he will sharpen his old "lea" (scythe) and remain behind to defend his homestead. As long as wife and children are safe, he is prepared to lay down his life for his country.
The importance of Browne's dialect poems consists not only in their intrinsic worth, but also in the interest which they aroused in dialect poetry in Yorkshire, and the stimulus which they gave to poets in succeeding generations. ”

“ Most of these have included a number of dialect poems, but I believe that the volume which the reader now holds in his hand is the first which is made up entirely of poems written in "broad Yorkshire." In my choice of poems I have been governed entirely by the literary quality and popular appeal of the material which lay at my disposal. This anthology has not been compiled for the philologist, but for those who have learnt to speak "broad Yorkshire" at their mother's knee, and have not wholly unlearnt it at their schoolmaster's desk. ”

“ Rollickin' Jack John Hartley I know a workin' lad, His hands are hard an' rough, His cheeks are red an' braan, But I like him weel enough. His ee's as breet 's a bell, An' his curly hair is black, An' he stands six foot in his stockin' feet, An' his name is Rollickin' Jack. At morn, if we should meet, He awlus has a smile, An' his heart is gay an' leet, When trudgin' to his toil. He whistles, or he sings, Or he stops a joke to crack; An' monny a lass at he happens to pass Looks shyly at Rollickin' Jack. ”

“ As we have already seen, the first attempts to interpret in dialect poetry the life of industrial Yorkshire were made at Sheffield early in the nineteenth century by Abel Bywater. As the century advanced, the movement spread northwards, and the great artisan communities of Bradford, Leeds, and Halifax produced their poets. ”

“ The Craven country, the dialect of which differs materially from that spoken in the manufacturing districts of the West, Riding, is not without its bards. These include James Henry Dixon (1803-1876) ,—a local historian and antiquary of scholarly tastes, who edited for the Percy Society the delightful collection of folk-poetry entitled, Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England (1846) . Mr. Dixon wrote comparatively little poetry himself, but his song, "The Milkin'-time," has the lilt of the best Scottish folk-songs and well deserves its inclusion here. ”

“ It marks the beginning, not only of modern Yorkshire, but also of modern English, dialect poetry. It appeared just a thousand years after Caedmon had sung the Creator's praise in Whitby Abbey, and its dialect is that of northeast Yorkshire—in other words, the lineal descendant of that speech which was used by Caedmon in the seventh century, by Richard Rolle in the fourteenth, and which may be heard to this day in the streets of Whitby and among the hamlets of the Cleveland Hills.
The dialogue is a piece of boldest realism. ”

“ If claads oppress you wi' their gloom, An' t' sun seems lost to view, Don't fret an' whine, Ask t' sun to shine, An' don't o' livin' rue: Play cricket. If you're i' debt, don't growl an' grunt, An' wish' at others had T' same want o' luck; But show more pluck, An' ne'er mak others sad: Play cricket. If in your days there's chonce to do Good deeds, then reight an' fair, Don't hesitate, An' wait too late, An' say you'n (1) done your share: Play cricket. We've all a row to hoe, that's true, Let's do it best we can; It's nobbut once We have the chonce To play on earth the man: Play cricket. ”

“ The flight of the Gabriel ratchets, or Gabriel hounds, through the sky, the fluttering of bats at the casement and of moths at the candle flame, and the shroud of soot which falls from the chimney of the room where the dying man lies, are introduced with fine effect ”

“ We will give you anything For a pretty lass. We won't take your pots and pans, We won't take your brass, We won't take your "anything For a pretty lass." We will give you gold and silver, We will give you pearl; We will give you anything For a pretty girl. Come, my dearest Mary, Come and play with us; You shall have a young man Born for your sake. And the bells shall ring, And the cats shall sing, And we'll all clap hands together. II Sally made a pudden, Shoo made it ower sweet; Shoo dursn't stick a knife in 't, Till Jack cam home at neet. ”

“ If thoo can like a Yorkshire tike, A rogue thoo'll niver finnd me. Thof envy's tongue, so slimly hung, Would lee aboot oor coonty, Nea men o' t' earth boast greater worth, Or mair extend their boonty. Oor northern breeze wi' us agrees, An' does for wark weel fit us ; I' public cares, an' love affairs, Wi' honour We acquit us. Sea great a maand (1) is ne'er confaand (2) 'Tiv onny shire or nation, They gie un meast praise whea weel displays A larned eddication; Whaal rancour rolls i' laatle souls, By shallow views dissarnin', They're nobbut wise at awlus prize Good manners, sense, an' larnin'. ”

“ But all their gossip cooms to nowt, Aunt Nancy's reight enif. Wi' basket oft shoo walks abroad To some poor lonely elf; To ivery one shoo knaws t' reight way At's poorer nor (2) herself. Shoo niverr speyks o' what shoo gives, Kind, gentle-hearted sowl; I' charity her hands find wark, Shoo's good alike to all. He niver tells her what he thinks, Nor flatters nor reproves; His life is baand wi' gowlden bands To t' woman at he loves. God bless her, shoo's a dimond breet, Both good i' mind an' heart; An angel spreeadin' light an' love, That plays a noble part. ”

“ These are Mr. Richard Blakeborough, the author of T' Hunt o' Yatton Brigg (1896) , and Mr. J. S. Fletcher, who, as recently as 1915, published in the dialect of Osgoldcross his Leet Livvy. These two poems are in general character poles apart: that of Mr. Blakeborough is pure romance, whereas Mr. Fletcher never steps aside from the strait path of realism. T' Hunt o' Yatton Brigg is steeped in all the eerie witch-lore of the Cleveland moors. ”

“ Wherever published, all of these almanacs conform more or less to the same pattern, as it was first laid down by the founder of the dialect almanac, Abel Bywater of Sheffield, in the year 1836. Widely popular in the West Riding, the almanac has never obtained foothold in the other Ridings, and is little known outside of the county. ”

“ May thy friends be for iver increeasin', An' thy enemies each day grow less. May tha niver let selfish ambition Dishonour or tarnish thy swoord, But use it alooan agean despots Whether reignin' at hooam or abrooad. 1. That.
Love and Pie J. A. Carill From Woz'ls Humorous Sketches and Rhymes in the East Yorkshire Dialect (n. d.) . Whin I gor hoired et Beacon Farm a year last Martinmas, I fund we'd gor a vory bonny soort o' kitchen lass; And so I tell'd her plooin' made me hungry—thot was why I awlus was a laatle sthrong on pudden and on pie. ”

“ I'm a weyver, ye knaw, an' awf deead, So I do all at iver I can To put away aat o' my heead The thowts an' the aims of a man. Eight shillin' i' t'wick's what I arn, When I've varry gooid wark an' full time, An' I think it's a sorry consarn For a fella at's just in his prime. Bud aar maister says things is as weel As they have been or iver can be, An' I happen sud think so misel If he'd nobbud swop places wi' me. Bud he's welcome ta all he can get, I begrudge him o' noan of his brass, An' I'm nowt bud a madlin (1) to fret, Or to think o' yon beautiful lass. ”

“ Their popularity and ever-increasing circulation is a sure proof of their wide appeal, and there can be no doubt that they have done an immense service in endearing the local idiom in which they are written to those who speak it, and also in interpreting the life and thought of the, great industrial communities for whom they are written. ”

“ Long Joe at comes thro' t' Jumples Clough Were gettin' rayther mazy, An' Warkus Ned had supped enough To turn their Betty crazy, An' Bob at lives at t' Bogeggs farm, Wi' Nan thro' t' Buttress Bottom, Were treatin' her to summat warm- It's just his way. Odd drot 'em! An' Jack o' t' Slade were theer as weel, An' Joe o' Abe's thro' Waerley, An' Lijah off o' t' Lavver Hill Were passin' th' ale raand rarely. Thro' raand an' square they seemed to meet To hear or tell a story, But t' gem o' all I heeard last neet Were one by Doad o' t' Glory. ”

“ 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. ”

“ There in a cellar, dark and deep, Where slimy creatures nightly creep, And human footsteps never tread, There is a store of treasure hid. If it be so, I have no doubt, Some lucky wight will find it out. Yet so or not is nought to me, For I shall ne'er go there to see." The man did slyly twice or thrice The Cockney thenk for his advice; Then heame agean withoot delay He cherfully did tak his way. An' set aboot the wark, an' sped, Fun' ivvery thing as t' man had said; Were iver efter seen to flourish T' fanest gentleman iv all t' parish. ”

“ He has "sent a surprise"? What is 't, lass? Go on! a new gaan, I'll be bun', Or happen a nugget o' famous girt size; Whativer it is it's t' best thing under t' sun. Ay, lad, I dare say, "life is rough," For t' best on 't is nut varry smooth; I' England it's hilly enough, Niver name wi' them diggers uncouth. But theer, Liz, be sharp an' let's have his surprise. I'm capt (2) wheer tha's gotten that stammerin' cough, Tha reads a deal better nor that when tha tries. Good gracious! What's t' matter? Shoo's fainted reight off! Hey! Lizzie, tha flays (3) me ”

“ Folks say, an' it is nowt bud truth, Thoo has been wi' me frae my youth, An' gien me monny a thumper; Bud noo thoo cooms wi' all thy weight, Fast fallin' frae a fearful height, A doonreet Milton plumper. Sud plenty frae her copious horn, Teem (1) oot to me good crops o' corn, An' prosper weel my cattle, An' send a single thoosand pund, 'T wad bring all things completely roond, An' I wad gie thee battle. Noo, Poverty, ya thing I beg, Like a poor man withoot a leg, Sea, prethee, don't deceive me; I knaw it's i' thy power to grant The laatle favour at I want ­ At thoo wad gang an' leave me. ”