Songs of the Ridings Part 4

So now thou'll clear thy pipes an' sing: Grace after meat, I s'pose.

Thou looks as holy as t' owd saint I' church wi' t' brokken nose.

Thou's plannin' marlocks(5) all the time, Donned i' thy sowdier coat; An' what we tak for hymns o' praise Is just thy fratchin' note.

I've seen thee feightin' theer on t' lawn, Beneath yon laurel tree; Thy neb was reed wi' blooid, thou looked As chuffy(6) as could be.

Thou's got no mense nor morals, Bob, But weel I know thy charm.

Ay, thou can stand upon my spade.

I'll niver do thee harm.

1 Chaffinches. 2. Moles. 3. Maggots.

4. Beetles 5. Tricks 6. Haughty

Lile Doad

The Lord's bin hard on me, Sir, He's stown my barn away.

O dowly, dowly was that neet He stole lile Doad away!

'Twas Whissuntide we wedded, Next Easter he was born, Just as t' last star i' t' April sky Had faded into t' morn.

Throstles were singin, canty,(1) For they'd their young i' t' nest; But birds don't know a mother's love That howds her barn to t' breast.

When wark was ower i' summer, I nussed him on my knees; An' Mike browt home at lowsin'-time Wild rasps an' strawberries.

We used to sit on t' door-sill I' t' leet o' t' harvist-moon, While our lile Doad would clench his fists An' suck his toes an' croon.

But when t' mell-sheaf(2) was gotten, An' back-end days set in, Wi' frost at neet an' roke(3) by day, His face gate pinched an' thin.

We niver knew what ailed him, He faded like a floor, He faded same as skies'll fade When t' sun dips into t' moor.

Church bells on Kersmas mornin'

Rang out so merrily, But cowd an' dreesome were our hearts: We knew lile Doad must dee.

He lay so still in his creddle, An' slowly he dwined away, While(4) I laid two pennies on his een On Holy Innocents' Day.

The Lord's bin hard on me, Sir, He's stown my barn away.

O, dowly, dowly was that neet He stole lile Doad away!

1. Briskly 2. The last sheaf of the harvest 3. Mist 4. Until

His Last Sail

GRANDFATHER T' watter is blue i' t' offin', An' blue is t' sky aboon; Swallows are settin' sou'ard, An' wanin' is t' harvist moon.

Ower lang I've bin cowerin' idle I' my neuk by t' fire-side; I'll away yance mair i' my coble, I'll away wi' t' ebbin' tide.

MALLY Nay, Gransir, thoo moant gan sailin', Thoo mun bide at yam to-neet; At eighty-two thoo sudn't think O' t' Whitby fis.h.i.+n' fleet.

North cone's up on t' flagstaff, There's a cap-full o' wind i' t' bay; T' waves wap loud on t' harbour bar, Thoo can hardlins fish to-day.

GRANDFATHER It's leansome here i' t' hoose, la.s.s, When t' fisher-folk's at sea, Watchin' yon eldin(1) set i' t' fire Bleeze up, dwine doon, an' dee.

An' t' sea-gulls they coom flyin'

Aboon our red roof-tiles; They call me doon the chimley, An' laugh at other whiles.

"There's mack'rel oot at sea, lad,"

Is what I hear 'em say; "Their silver scales are glestrin' breet, Look oot across the bay; But mack'rel's not for thee, lad, For thoo's ower weak to sail."

My een wi' saut tears daggle(2) When I hear their mockin' tale.

MALLY Dean't mind their awfish(3) skreekin', They 'tice folk to their death; Then ride aboon yon billows An' gloor at them beneath.

They gloor at eenless corpses Slow driftin' wi' the tide, Deep doon amang the weedy wrack, Wheer t' scaly fishes glide.

GRANDFATHER I'd fain lig wi' my kinsfolk, Fore-elders, brothers, sons, Wheer t' star-fish s.h.i.+ne like twinklin' leets, An' t' spring-tide watter runs.

T' kirkyard's good for farm-folk, That ploo an' milk their kye, But I could sleep maist soondly Wheer t' s.h.i.+ps gan sailin' by.

T' grave is whisht(4) an' foulsome, But clean is t' saut sea-bed; Thoo can hark to t' billows dancin'

To t' tune o' t' tide owerhead.

Yon wreaths o' floors i' t' kirkyard Sean wither an' fade away, But t' sea-tang wreaths round a droon'd man's head Will bide while Judgment Day.

Sae fettle(5) my owd blue coble, I kessen'd her "Mornin' Star,"

An' I'll away through t' offin'

Wheer t' skooals o' mack'rel are.

Thoo can look for my boat i' t' harbour, When thoo's said thy mornin' psalm; Mebbe I'll fill my fish-creel full-- Mebbe I'll nean coom yam.

1. Kindling 2. Grow moist 3. Elfish 4. Silent 5. Get ready

ONE YEAR OLDER

One yeer owder, one yeer dearer: That's what I sal awlus say.

Draw thy chair a little nearer, Put yon stockin's reight away.

Thou hast done enough i' thy time, Tewed i' t' house an' wrowt at loom; Just for once thou mun sit idle, Feet on t' hear'stone, fingers toom.(1)

One yeer owder, one yeer dearer: So I promised when we wed.

Then thy een were glest'rin' clearer Nor the stars aboon us spread.

If they're dimmer now, they're tend'rer, An' yon wrinkles on thy face Tell a lesson true as t' Bible, Speik o' charity an' grace.

One yeer owder, one yeer dearer: We've supped sorrow, tasted joy, But our love has grown sincerer, Gethered strength nowt can destroy.

Love is like an oak i' t' forest, Ivery yeer it adds a ring; Love is like yon ivin tendrils, Ivery day they closer cling.

One yeer owder, one yeer dearer: Time's the shuttle, life's the yarn.

Have thy crosses seemed severer 'Cause thou niver had a barn?

Mebbe I sud not have loved thee Hauf so weel, if I mud share All our secret thowts wi' childer, Twinin' round my owd arm-chair.