Fred Hirst

January Is by Fred Hirst

A month wen tha settles up thi Xmas bills
A month wen tha pestered wi cowds an chills
A month wen tha can't keep up wi thi runnin nooahs
A month wen t'frost plays 'eck wi thi fingers an tooahs
A month wen tha slips on t'snaw an' t'idden slide
A month wen tha might finish up on thi backside
A month wen in fact tha cud play 'ell an' curse
A month ta ferget, but think on, February cud be worse

Jesus Is Born by Fred Hirst

Jooasiph an Mary wo paid aht an' covered i' dust,
The'd ta get ta Bethlehem that neet, it wor a must.
Ivverybody 'ed ta register an' each 'ed ta sign the'r name,
It wor a government order, nooah messin', it wodn't a game,

Jooasiph wo capped ah many fowk ther' wor i' t' streets.
T' sun 'ed gone dahn an' it wor one o' t' dahrkest o' neets.
It wo reight 'ahrd gooin', trampin' up an' dahn i' t' gloom,
All t' inns wo full, the' wor 'evvin' bother gerrin' a room.

Mary wor 'eavy wi' bairn, Jooasiph 'ed ta ger 'er a bed.
Throo t' dahrkness the' cud just see a leet shinin' ahead.
" 'ev yer gor a room," Jooasiph said, " or a place ta rest?"
"T' only place Ah've got is t' stable, it weern't be best."

At leeast the'd fahnd sumweer ta rest the'r 'eds,
But the'd 'ev ta mak do wi' straw for the'r beds.
Durin' that neet, Lord Jesus ahr Saviour wo born.
That day is knawn ivveryweer as Christmas Morn.

In swaddlin' clooas, ahr Lord Jesus, in a manger lay
An' ahtside a breet new star made neet as leet as day.
Follerin' this star, t' three Wise Men began ta tire,
W'en it stopped ovver t' stable weer Jesus wor i' t' byre.

Gold an' Frankincense an' Myrrh the' gave to ahr King,
The' wo t' finest gifts that t' three Wise Men cud bring.
'evvin' paid the'r 'omage, they all knelt dahn ta pray,
Well ahtside, t' angels sang carols all throo t' day.

Knaw Thi Onions by Fred Hirst

Tom decided that 'e'd 'ad enuff for t' neet,
'e thowt a pint o' beer 'ed taste reight sweet.

Sooah 'e picked up 'is tooils an' purr 'em away
An' ovver t' 'ouse tops t' sun 'ed set ta end t'day.

'e made 'is way steadily up towahrd gate
An' sat dahn on t' seeaht wi owd Bill Tate.

"Nah, 'es ta gorr ivverything done?" said Bill.
"Nooah," said Tom. "Ah've a few spots ta fill."

"tha knaws Bill, it i'n't same nah t' bairns 'ev gone,
Ta eyt all that Ah grow taday, Ah've summat on."

Bill said, " Tha'll 'ev ta grow summat ta show,
Like onions, might win a cup, yer nivver knaw,"

Tom thowt abaht it an' said, "Bill get thisen up,
Come up ta club an' Ah'll buy thee a pint ta sup."

Ta gerr a free pint, Bill wor allus ready,
'cos 'e wor eighty 'e'd ta walk steady.

Tom got t' beer in an' said, "Mi first taday."
Bill 'ed been knawn ta put many a pint away.

Tom asked, "Wot s'all Ah do ta set abaht this?
If ther's prizes ta be won Ah mooahn't miss."

"Tha's got ta get stuck in an' mak a good onion bed."
Bill gev 'im all t' knaw 'ah an' finally this 'e said.

"W'en tha sows, such a lot depends on good weather,
Look after 'em like bairns an' winners tha'll gether."

Three yeeahrs went by an' Tom 'ed nowt worth showin'
Cudn't understand w'y 'is onions wo not growin'.

"Ah'll 'ev ta see Bill," 'e said, " 'e'll tell me gladly,
Ah ain't seen 'im abaht for a bit, Ah wonder if 'e's badly?"

'e knocked on t' dooahr, 'e didn't knaw if 'e wor in
An' the t' dog stahrted bahrkin', it made such a din.

Bill Shahted, "Shurrup barrkin' , Bess, lig thisen dahn,
Bring thisen in Tom an' shut dooahr, it i'n't a bahrn."

Bill wo smookin' 'is pipe, on 'is 'eeahd wor 'is cap
An' t' dog jumped on 'is knee an' laid dahn in 'is lap.

"Nah then wot's up wi the' ? Tha looks as fahl as sin."
"It's mi onions, the're nooah good, Ah s'all ne'er win."

"Thi onion bed, did ta dig thi trenches two spades deep
An' fill 'em up wi manure an’ compost that' tha’d ta keep?

Tha did, then gerr a tub awf filled wi' watter,
Stir it up 'til it's like puddin' batter.

Be sure ta use that ivvery week an' thi onions will grow
'til tha's ta use thi wheelbarrer ta tak 'em ta show."

Liza's Love by Fred Hirst

It wo pitch black an' it 'ed rained durin' t' neet,
Tha could 'eeahr t' clatter o' t' clogs i' t' street.
T' knocker-up rattled on t' winnders, then banged on t' dooahr,
Liza slipped aht o' bed purrin' 'er feet on t' cowd flooahr.

She purr ‘er shawl rahnd 'er shoulders, like ivvery mornin',
'er mahth ivver oppen as she couldn't stop 'ersen yawnin'.
After riddlin' t' fire, aht o' t' bucket she purr on some coil,
She purr up t' draw tin, she'd be glad w'en it wo wahrm i' t' 'oil.

T' kettle 'ed sooin be boilin', she put some teeah i' t' pot,
W'en'er 'usband gor up, she'd ta mak sure 'is teeah wor 'ot.
'is britches, socks an' clogs wo laid i' t' fender for airin',
Shirt an' pants wor i' t' oven, wahrm clooahs 'e'd be wearin'.

Liza cut two great slices an' put some jam on 'is bread,
Then she shahted upstairs tellin' 'im ta ger up aht o' bed.
'e cem dahn shiverin', 'is shirt wor 'is awnly attire,
Liftin' up 'is lap, 'e stood for a minute i' t' front o' t' fire.

'e pulled on 'is trahsers an' then 'e purr on 'is socks,
Takkin' off 'is shirt showin' a back blue scahrred wi' knocks.
In a stooahn sink, i' cowd watter 'e swilled 'is face,
All this wo steady like, nooah 'urry, it wodn't a race.

Sittin' dahn on a buffet, 'e stahrted eytin' 'is bread,
All this time, between man an' wife not a word wo said.
Faintly, first ridin! buzzer blew, the' nobbut could just 'eeahr,
Purrin' on t' rest on 'is clooahs 'e took a last mahttiful o' teeah.

Lif tin' t' sneck, ‘e oppened t' dooahr, ‘stahrs nah shone above,
From inside o't 'ouse Liza called aht, "Be careful my love."
Pullin' t' dooahr to 'e quietly joined the mottley throng,
Ivvery shift dahn t' pit would be dusty 'ahrd an' long.

Late For T’School by Fred Hirst

Ah wo capped wen mi mam cem wi mi ta t'dooah
She told me not to be late for t'schooil onny mooah
Then she covered me cheeks all ovver wi kisses
Ah sed "Stop it, Ah'm not one o' them cissies"

Ah passed by Jim's 'ouse an' 'e gev me a wave
'is face red all ovver like an' Indian brave
That 'e'd got measles ivverybody cud see
Ah wish 'e'd share 'em aht an' gi sum to me

In t'fahmyard the'd browt a sow an' a big booah
Fahmer sed "Gerr off ta schooil" Ah cudn't see onny mooah
Ah picked up a stick an' threw it for owd Tom's dog
Ah gev Peter twenty mahbles for 'is big green frog

Me an' Jack stahted ahguin' an' we 'ed a feight
A lady stopped us an' sed feightin' wern't reight
She med us shak 'ands an' told us to be gud
An' then we ran dabn t'rooad as fast as we cud

Mi booits got mucky an' Ah'd ta cleean 'em wi grass
Didn't mek a gud job on 'em but the'd 'ev ta pass
Ah dashed dahn t'rooad an' up to t'schooil gate
Looks as tho' Ah'm i' bother for bein' late

Teycher gev me two o' t'best that med mi 'ands sooah
Teeahs cem inta mi een but Ah managed not ta rooah
Nah Ah'm nivver late onny mooah for t'schooil
Noa mooah cane for me, Ah'm nooahbody's fooil

Little Sparrer by Fred Hirst

Little sparrer upon mi windersill
Lookin far crumbs, thi tummy ta fill

Little sparrer, nooah cap, nooah scahrf on thi neck
T'north wind 'll ruffle thi feathers, by 'eck

Little sparrer, nooah socks, nooah booits on thi feet
Surely tha bahn t’a bi bitterly cowd taneet