Janice Witton
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Janice Witton (aka Jan)

A Yorkshire lass born and bred...and damn proud of it!...I'm a single mom of two boys and I've lived and worked in Yorkshire all my life...can't ever see me living anywhere else to be honest.
I have a number of online projects that keep me busy, my family tree, a local history blog about my village, a photo blog coz i luv taking pictures and then there's my online journal where i do all my daily rantin' this was also the inspiration for my first poem, The Yorkshire Way, but it wasn't in dialect then... foreigners just don't get it...lol...
When I'm not working online my time is taken up keeping house and home together and entertaining Cleo (my Yorkie) and Dudley (my Dally) I've done the odd bit of writing in the past, but nothing to really write home about so I'm thrilled to bits to be able to contribute to this fantastic site and help keep the Yorkshire dialect alive.

Changes

Mi f'st pooem!

Na' then me owd mate!

The Yorkshire Way

W'en i wor'a kid!

Changes!

Life begins at fotty
Or so a've bin towd
Life'll bi sa grand
Coz fotty in't owd,

But wen i 'it t'big 4 0
It wan't all that good
Mi body started acting weird
N' no bugger understood,

I tried to tell em 'ow i felt
N' wot wa' gooin' on
I tried to tell emů"I aint mad"
Mi mind's not yet gone,

T'mood swings, n' neet sweats
N' even t'need for a nap
Wa all to bi expected
As i tun daan t'hermostat,

Forgerrin' this, forgerrin' that
Wor' am i goona do
Reet it daan n' mek a list
Thar'll get mi through,

A tell em not to worry
That ma 'll be ok
She's just a bit tired reet naa
It wain't all'as be this way,

But they look at mi reet funny
N' 'tut' in disbelief
I hate way they did that
N' gi'em all some grief,

Way, a noos a already tell'd em
T'mood swings to expect
If they're gonna push it
They'll gerr'it in t'neck,

So it seems, I'm on mi ooan
To ride this latest storm
As t'changes they continue
N' it all becomes t'norm,

To find mi'sen burning up
N' sweating from every pore
I really dun't care if they're freezing
Am op'nin' t'bloody door!

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Mi f'st pooem! by Janice Witton

Na bugger me, will tha luk at tha'
Mi f'st poem, do a ger'a pat on t'back

A wa' oni rantin' like tha dus
Just putin daan wot cum in mi ed

An i pu'rit on mi journal fo'ra bira' o' laugh
A recon'd it wa fitin' me being a Yorkshire lass

Then a fun this place fa' Yorkshire folk
It wa' full a' verse in slang

So i sent mi pooem off to em
I wa wundrin' what they thought

Then a geets this mail on t'puter
Thi' must a' reckoned it wa reet smart

Coz naa it's gorit's oan page
Wi a bit abaat me reet at top

N' if a rant sum mooa the'll ad them an' all
So am reet chuffed a tell thi'

Seein' me pooem on t'web
Bur'a go'ra bi reet carefull

Wi dunt want all this fame goona' mi hed.

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Na' then me owd mate! by Janice Witton

W'en tha needs a gud rooa....gis'a bell!...I dun't promise thar' a'll mek thi laugh...
burr'a can rooa wi' thi,
N'if one day tha wants to bugga off... dun't bi free'tand to ring mi!...a' dun't promise ta stop thi...
burr'a can bugga off wi'thi,
N'if one day tha dun't wan'a listen t'any bugga.....gis'a bell!...a' promise a'll bi thea for thi...
an'a promise a'll keap me gob shut,
Burr'if tha calls...an' tha dun't gerr'an answer...leg it raand t'aah haas...
Coz a' might bi needin' thee.

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The Yorkshire Way by Janice Witton

It's t'yorkshire way dunt tha no... Ta seh it as wi see it,
Wi seh us bit n' state t'facts...na bull shit will tha git,
Wi dunt gu raund t'haases...oh beat abaat t'bush,
Wi dunt 'av fancy accents... ta mek us all saand posh,
Wi'er daan t'earth friendly folk...na finer wi'ya find,
Ba'rif ya dare ta cross es....Wi'al gladly spick us minds,
So if tha wants it plainly sed...wi aat t'wind n' gas,
Drop on by n' gerrit raet...from this owd yorkshire lass!

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W'en i wor'a kid! by Janice Witton

Wen i wor'a kid, fur'a birr'o a treat,
we'd gerr'a thrup'ny bit to gu to t'chippy,

Wen i wor'a kid wi wa kept in line,
or end up wi t'belt just fa' bein' lippy,

Wen i wor'a kid we played games or ad'n 'obby,
any bover meant a clip raand t'ear from t'local bobby,

Wen i wor'a kid oni t'eldest got new clooas n'a trip to taan,
the youngen's had to pur'up wi all owd hand-me-daans,

Wen i wor'a kid wi 'ad op'n fires tha' med t'house all sooty,
lasses played wi dolls while lads played wi trains or'ad a game of footy,

Wen i wor'a kid wi din't lock winda's and doa's, we din't even bolt t'gate,
bur'it wa safer, life wa easier then n' t'world wor'in a much berr'a state.