Fred Hirst

Decoratin' T' Christmas Tree by Fred Hirst

Ta decorate t' Christmas tree, we'd asked mi Mam afooahr,
This pahrticulahr time she couldn't stand it nooah mooahr.

she fetched it dahn from upstairs, Wessel cups an' all,
On t' table she stood it; it wor abaht three feet tall.

Its branches she spread 'til the’ wo’ well spaced aht,
Wi' paper she packed it in a plant pot for a stahrt.

Silver tinsel, all ovver t' branches wo spread,
Wessel cups wo gold, silver an' some wo red.

Pieces o' cotton wool wo purr on ta look like snaw,
Made it mooahr like Christmas, yer knaw.

W'en t' decorations wo placed all ovver tree,
It wor as beautiful a seet as ivver tha did see.

Then mi Mam said, "Ivverybody cloise yer eyes ,
W'en we oppened 'em, candles wo lit. SURPRISE!

Dooahn't Be Tempted by Fred Hirst

Jesus 'ed stopped i' t' desert for forty days wi' nowt at all ta eyt,
It 'edn't been eeahsy, it 'ed been a struggle, a reight 'ahrd feight.

Said t' Devil, "If th' ahr t' Son of God, mak breeahd aht o' stooan."
Jesus said, "Tha mun lissen ta God, tha can't live on breeahd alooahn."

Then t' Devil took Jesus ta very top of a tall church spire,
'e wo sure that ther' wo nooah buildin' onnyweer onny 'igher.

"Tha're a bit clever, see if tha can jump dahn onta flooahr,
If thi Faather's Angels dooahn't catch the’, tha'll be na mooahr."

Jesus replied, "Dooahn't tempt God, it'll nivver do the' onny good."
Satan took Jesus up a mahntan weer 'e saw city, cloise an' wood.

"Look arahnd the', all tha can see will be thine if tha'll worship me."
"Livin' i' t' Kingdom o' God," said Jesus, "That's weer Ah want ta be."

Jesus 'ed proved 'e would nivver succumb ta onny temptation,
An' 'e an' t' Angels left tagether wi' 'ahrts full o' jubilation.

Fires In’ Eart An’ ‘Earth by Fred Hirst

T' embers are dull an' t' fire is low i' t' grate,
Jooah's back is bent an' unsteady is 'is gait.
Many a time 'ed 'e laid an' kindled this fire,
Often 'ed 'is wife filled 'is 'eart wi' desire.

Once flames danced, nah t' fire is nooah longer aglow,
Jooah's blood, flowin' throo 'is veins is sluggish an' slow.
Arahnd t' fire, in its wahrmth, 'is family once sat,
Nah ther's nooahbody, it's cowd, ther's 'oils i' t' mat.

Tons o' coil 'es been burnt ta keep this fire aleet
An' t' fireside wor allus blackleeahded an' breet.
Time after time coil wor purr on ta replenish t' fire,
Jooah's owd age 'es copped up an' 'e's beginnin' ta tire.

Ta feel t' last rissome of 'eeaht Jooah's ahrms stretched aht,
That 'e 'd lived a good lifespan ther wo nivver onny daht.
Fires that burn i' someone's eart or in a grate,
Flicker an' die, sometimes sooin' sometimes late.

Fit For 'Eroes? by Fred Hirst

W'en some fowk can't get the'r awn rooahd, the' bawl an' shaht
An' others loise the'r temper an' chuck things abaht.
But mooahst fowk ahr steady an' the're eeahsy gooin',
Dooahn't cause bother an' the're careful wot the're dooin',

It's said, " I'n't it a funny owd world in w'ich we live?"
Maybe it's becos some folk ahr reluctant ta give.
Th, sees 'em ivvery day wantin' surmmat for nowt,
Allus complainin' abaht t' cost o' things the've bowt.

Rich guilty fowk get barristers ta defend 'em i' cooahrt,
Well pooahr uns 'ooahp that t' judge is a good sooahrt.
Top sportsmen laak games for t' mooahst exorbitant fees,
Well industrial wahkers ahr freetened o' redundancies.

The've trial periods ta prove the'r prowess i' bed.
An' some teenage wives nivver leeahned ta mak bread.
Gingerbread mothers 'ev bairns sayin' ignorance is ta blame,
Some let their babies gooah inta care wi' aht a bit o' shame.

Ten yeeahr owds murder a toddler on a railway track,
Thugs injure an' murder police, gettin' the'r awn back?
folks an' kids ahr freetened ta goo aht at neet,
Scared ta deeahth o' t' louts 'at create 'avoc on t' street.

Do gooders must nah knaw that theirs is not the right way,
Criminals must be punished an' shown tha crime doesn't pay.
An M.P. states that t' silent majority must be reight,
The public feels that t' government must nah pull its weight.

Gawthorpe Crickit Match I'Thirties by Fred Hirst

Played at crickit for t' Bethesda, the' did,
Seth an' Bill, w'en talent money wor a quid,
Bill used a red 'andkitch ta wipe 'is nooahs,
Seth wor athletic an' walked on 'is tooahs.

A runner wo Seth for a pahnd or mooahr,
Bill sat on a buffet ahtside 'is dooahr.
At crickit, be'ind t' Bee'ive the played,
After t' match, in t' Bee'ive the stayed.

Ther' wor a pavilion t' purr in thi geeahr
An' at t' interval tha might get some teeah.
Bethesda wo lucky w'en the' won t' toss,
Middlestahn, keen t’a show 'ehm ' oo wo t ' boss

First batters came in swingin' the'r bats,
t' fielders stood arahnd b'tween cah pats.
T' 'ooahm teeahm did well, 109 the' scooahred,
Beside tent tha could see t' runs on t' baoahrd.

Middlestahn oppeners wor ivver sooah smahrt,
Donned i' w'ite, the' looked quite the pahrt.
Thirty yahrds back. stood Seth, t' ball in 'is 'and,
Bill, abaht ten yahrds be'ind stumps 'e did stand.

Bill Poppleton wor a good batter even tho a little staht,
Bethesda ‘ed gi’n all the'r bowlers chance ta ger 'im aht,
As for Seth, 'is balls, all ovver t' cloise wo sent,
Bill 'Pop' 'it two sixes reight ovver t' crickit tent.

Seth wahrmed up, gerrin' ready for ‘is second spell
An ' comin' dahn ta middle o’ t’ pitch, Bill ‘e did tell
Seth, "Keep 'em tight, all on t' leg side," 'e 'isses
An' Ah want yer all ta appeal first 'e misses.

After two balls, "Ouzat." Bill 'e did shaht,
T' umpires finger went up, Bill Pop wor aht.
"Nivver touched mi bat, " Bill Pop did say.
"Sure it did," t' umpire said, "on thi way."

Bill Pop wor a christian an' not supposed ta sweeahr,
But that day, said things that bairns sudn't 'eeahr.
Reight ovver inta cornfield 'is bat 'e threw,
But 'e 'ed ta fetch it back 'cos it wo brand new.

Seth an' Bill, that neet the' laughed an' laughed,
Sooah long that ivverybody thowt the' wo daft.
Middlestahn wor all aht for a 'undred an' two,
w'y Bill Pop threw 'is bat, only Seth an' Bill knew.

Gawthorpe Feeahst by Fred Hirst

After t' procession it wo ta feeahst Ah wanted ta gooah,
Ah'd pestered mi Mam 'til she cud stand naoah mooah.
"Tha'll nooahn be 'appy 'til all thi brass tha's spent."
She took 'owd o' mi 'and an' ta feeahst we went.

We walked dah t' rooahd, Ah cud 'eeahr t' organ play,
In fact Ah'd been 'eeahrin' it all throo t' day.
Just throo t' gate wor a brandy snap stand,
Ther' wor a kiddies rahnd-a-baht, turned bi 'and.

Wot we'd seen sooah fahr didn't interest me,
On t' charaplanes, that's weer Ah wanted ta be.
Mi Mam said," Tha'll be flaid if tha 'es a gooah
An' dooahn't blame me if tha stahts ta rooahr.

As Ah sat dahn, the' purr a chain across mi seeaht,
This wo smashin', this wo bahn ta be a real treeaht.
Rahnd an' rahnd, it went slowly for a stahrt.
As it went faster, inta mi throit came mi 'ahrt.

Aht o' mi seeaht Ah thowt Ah wo gooin' ta fly
An' ne'er stop 'til Ah'd flown up ta t' sky.
W'en mi Mam lifted me dahn, Ah still felt a bit queer,
She 'ugged me an' said, " Let's gooah 'ooahm for t' teeah."

Good Owd Days by Fred Hirst

Ah'm a bit doddery nah an' mi 'ands shak a bit,
Five minutes walk ta seeaht, then Ah 'ev ta sit.
Ovver all t' 'ousetops Ah can see t' church spire,
Weer t' pit wo, the're burnin' rubbish on a fire.

At all 'ours o' t' day an' neet jets fly ovver 'ed,
I' my day, at ten o'clock ivverybody wor i' bed.
W'en tha went ta wahrk ivverybody 'ed ta 'ike,
If tha wo one o’ t' lucky uns tha cud 'eva bike.

W'en Ah went ta schooil tha 'ahrdly ivver saw a cahr,
Nah tha's a job ta cross t' rooahd choose ah quick tha ahr.
Fowk made a clatter w'en the'd all clogs on the'r feet,
Nah the' weer trainers, tha can't 'eeahr 'em i' t' street.

At weekends we all looked reight smahrt in ahr Sunday best,
Thi wahrkin' clooahs wo worn a week afooahr the' wo weshed.
Wi' t' new fangled weshin' machines the' wesh ivvery day,
It often maks me wonder w'y the' dooahn't wesh 'em away.

Nah some fowk say gi' us back t' good owd days,
But today life is better in all sooahrts o' ways.
Ivverybody 'es the'r share of 'appiness an' teeahrs,
Ah suppooahs it'll be t' same i' t' next fifty yeeahrs.

I'T'Local On A Friday Neet by Fred Hirst

Let me tak the' inta taproom o' yesterday's pub,
Afooahr t' juke boxes created such a noisy 'ubbub.
Tha cud see it wor a man's pub w'en tha walked throo t' dooahr,
Wi' tables 'at wo scrubbed w'ite an' sawdust on t' flooahr.

It's a bit quiet i' t' "Bull" durin' t' week,
T' landlord says customers ahr 'ahrd ta seek.
But on a Friday it's a bit better, a bit mooahr throng
Colliers, mill wahrkers, navvies, they all come along.

Mooahst on 'em like ta sit in the'r awn favourite place.
An' if it's pinched, it's nowt fresh ta see a long face.
Some get nasty like awd Tom, 'e likes ta sit ageeahn t'fire,
W’en ‘im an’ Jooah get yappin the’r tongues nivver tire.

Ageeahn t' winnder, t' domino laikers like ta sit,
W'en the're laiken' dooahn't say owt, else the'll 'ev a fit.
Awd Sid, 'e's crippled wi' ahrthritis, can't get dahn ta shop,
'e gets in on a Friday, sumdy 'll pay for 'is pop.

Ther's a fewon 'em gets in sooin' ta wipe cleeahn the'r slate,
Nooah ale if the' dooahn't pay on a Friday, the'll 'ev ta wait.
Nivver sit ageeahn t’ dahrtbooahrd, tha might get stuck wi' a dahrt,
An odd un might ger a drop too much, can be awkerd gerrin' 'im aht.

T' landlord rings 'is bell, time ta sup up an' gooah,
Ther's allus some silly Divil 'at wants a drop mooahr.
One or two 'll stand arahnd takkin' the'r time ta say goodneet,
Nah all is quiet as one by one the've diappeeahred dahn t’ street.

It'll 'E Ta Do by Fred Hirst

It wo t' first date Ah 'd 'ed wi Lizzie Ann,
Ah'd ta be at mi best, be as smahrt as Ah can.
First of all Ah'd better purr a shine on mi shoe,
Wi' a bit o' polish an' elbow greeahs it'll 'e ta do.

Gerrin' a good wesh an' a shave is mi next job,
Then makkin' sure mi teeth ahr cleeahn i' mi gob.
Wi' a brush an' cooahmb an' a drop o' cowd watter too,
Ah pahrted mi 'air on mi 'eeahd, it'll 'e ta do.

Nah Ah've ta gooah upstairs ta purr on mi best clooas,
Ah'm bahn ta look smahrt from mi 'eeahd ta mi tooahs.
W'en Ah purr on mi socks, a big tooah wo peepin' throo,
Mi Mam doesn't mend on a Sunday, sooah it'll 'e ta do.

Is ther' owt else ta get me inta Lizzie Ann' good books,
Ah certainly weern't impress 'er wi' mi good looks.
Rigged aht i' mi Sunday best, Ah'd nowt ta purr on new,
Ah stood up in front o' mi Mam an' said, "Will Ah do?"

It's A Man's Life by Fred Hirst

"Ah've been watchin' the' lookin' aht o' t' corner o' thi e'e.
'ed ta summat ta tell me w'en tha put thi paw on mi knee?
Then tha browt thi leeahd an' tha put it dahn on t' flooahr.
Wo ta gerrin' bothered w'en tha walked from mi chair ta dooahr?

W'y does ta bahrk w'en Ah pick up mi shoe?
Doesn't ta knaw it's awnly twenty ta two?
An' w'en Ah bend dahn ta fasten mi lace,
Ahr ta fooahrced ta come an' lick mi face?

W'y ahr ta gerrin all excited an' waggin' thi tail?
We allus gooah for a walk ivvery day wi'aht fail.
W'en Ah get mi coit, tha pantin', thi tongue 'ings aht,
Tha gets all 'ot an' bothered afooahr we even stahrt.

Come thisen 'eer an' let me fasten thi chain,
Tha'll be off like leetnin' w'en we gerr i' t' lane.
For an' ‘ahr tha'll run back' ahrds an' for' ahrds an' dash abaht
An' w'en tha gets 'ooahm tha'll flop dahn t' rug, tired aht.