Howard Peach

For many years, to lighten the joys of teaching, I have escaped into dialect writing, and belong to both the East Riding and Yorkshire Dialect Societies.
Local history and an interest in people from different backgrounds - mining, academic, village life, local government officers and editors for instance - have sharpened my understanding of the quirks in all of us.
Some of these oddities have occasionally fed into my tales.
If someone hadn't already invented "nowt so queer as folk" I recon I might ha' done!

	Ah Mun Just Tell Thee
	Christmas? Nay, Gi'oer Wi' Thee!
	Dear John
	Diet Protest
	Fuller Lives
	Landlord Lays It On Line
	Meeatin' New Neearbour
	Utopia Niver Wor
	Wanted - More Revs

Ah Mun Just Tell Thee by Howard Peach

Me granddad, once a good un, 'd sunk i stoddy ways,
His mind a-traipsin' back'ards, o' livin' in a haze
o' times hafe recollected, o' memories bejeweled -
"Did Ah iver tell thee o' when Victoria ruled?"

On Mam's lined ruddy features a force nine frahn were cast.
"Nah Dad, eat up thi dinner Stop rakin' up the past.
We're listenin' to that wireless, sithee -comedy, tha'll know -
So gi' ower chunterin' on wi' caff o' cheap mead long ago".

Nah Mam's bewk's tonned a leaf else tew, an' Ah'm a grizzle-yed.
Hew's full o' folk an' follies o' fifty year that's sped.
Ivery history cue's ta'en up - her one-track panel game:
An' if Ah meks thray score an' ten - no daht Ah'll do the same!

Christmas? Nay, Gi' Oer Wi' Thee! by Howard Peach

Them Christmas treats is due again - just when me cash flow's low.
From Halifax to Humber Bridge them cussed adverts flow.
Meantime, Ah tons me collar up to keep ert freezin' snow…
It's no good marthin' off as Scrooge were rayt!

Back wom theer's nuts an' oranges to stuff derntights an' socks;
Tha tater-scrapes, pens tew-thray cards an' wraps up pens an' clocks
-But thi rnind'd rather settle for a nayt slumped front o't' box…
No wonder hen-pecked chaps 'll go to t' dogs.

Then dawns yon twenty-fifth wi' a scrate hafe ivery hour.
Shane's upskelled his prezzie sack an's scrabblin' theer on t' floor,
As Fran flicks on thi bedrewm layt, tha knows there'll be no more
Silent Nayt - wi'bairns an' boxes aboard thi bed.

Mid turkey-talk at dinner time tha tanks up tots be t' tayn.
Thi blinks draws long till… "Dad, wacken up, us is all tuned in to t' Quane".
For sup that soddin' turkey's back - that bod's become obscene:
An' guess what's in them samwiches tomorrer!

Onnyroad, be Boxin' Day us senses'll be nummer.
Beware, we mun, them TV ads as brings yon mincin' mummer -
Yon wench as wants thee nah to bewk for haldees come next summer…
Warm Springs, 'appen, dost tha think? -Else mebbe Wath on Deame?

Dear John by Howard Peach

Hey-up wi' thee, John, tha gret slorm-pot!
Common sense's come rayt, nah Ah'm owder.
Theer's summat Ah've gor on me mind:
Tha might as well ha' it from showder.

Here's back thi love lines an' cheap ring -
Ah'm choked wi' thi sloth an' thi mytherin'.
Ah pines for adventure an' zip,
Cos courtin' twelve year's nobbut ditherin'.

Good luck wi' thi ferrets an' jig-saws;
Be time tha glegs this Ah'1I be gone
I' short, we mun go us own roads -nah
Ahs marryin' a normal chap, John!

Diet Protest by Howard Peach

Nah then, Jack - aren't farmin'?
"Nay, lad - an' can tha beat it?
Mester salted yow as dayed
An' sets us dern ti eat it."

Well,waste not, sithee, want not!
No nayd for blinkin' barneys.
"Pig dayed, Mester salted 'im,
An' sarved 'im up i' sarnies".

But prime pork canna just be chucked;
An' champion snap is 'am.
"Yes'dee Mester's granma dayed
- Todee Ah'm stoppin' wom!"

Fuller Lives by Howard Peach