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John C Stott
Born at Bank Top Farm, Eccleshill in 1929. Left School at the age of14,then worked on various farms until I was 40, then worked as Grounds man and Caretaker for North Yorkshire. As of 2004 my wife and have been married for 52 years with three lovely daughters, retired of course and living in Harrogate.
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Reynard by John C Stott
I gat up early one morning, looking out on’t winda to see,
Theer a fox eting chickens int en run, an I eddent a gun by me,
So ah pulled on my britches quite sprightly, ran darn the stairs in a rush,
Then from behint doour grabbed a andal from off’na farm yard brush.
By-gow as I hoppened the door, the old fox got wind on me-sel
I chased him ito a corner, thou would have thowt ar wer ringing chush bell
Stick flew art’n mi an in a hurry, but Reynard the foxy old sod
Slid reight tween mi bolegged Pins. Chased off as if he wer god.
Theer were chickens laid all around, with heads flung far an wide,
But I hedn’t finished with old Reynard, a nuther neet I’d etta bide
Later that day int’t en run, I took me-self wi some string
I thowt, what a pity to forfit that en wi nobbut one wing.
I sammed up that hen, O so gently, her time on this earth soon to close
Took er inside to the en house, out of the string made a noose
Tide it rahnd er leg unsuspecting. The light were now fading fast
Soa put the hen on’t perch now, to let it think of its past.
Tuther end on’t string ah did Fasten.to a peg that held up the bob
Na on my reckoning and reasoning. When that fox does open it’s Gob,
An grabs hod’t chicken. Theer perching, an’t peg and the bob gi way
My scheme will a’ wurked on old Reynard, now that he’s in theer to stay.
I suppose on thy reckonin and reason. Thou’d think the old fox I would kill,
But my mind thou naws nowt about. So I’ll leave thi to ponder my will
Is the fox that slaughtered me chickens. Is He roamin abroad or now dead. 
T’ Car Boot Sale by John C Stott
A’t fust leet it wor sunny an warm on’t grass
Those travellers cam theear jus fur brass
Vehicles theear did enter, bulging a’t’ seams
Setting up their tables, singly an I’ teeams.
Rubbish- weng auts,-lavish things wur theear too,
Buyers beware, moast things are worn through,
Jugs,pans an kettles.electric stuff aboun’
Buks galore ‘n trinkets,scattered orl aroun’
Plants bi t’ undred,-- cheap statuettes,
I av alsoa seen at times drenched through cigarettes
Mangy fur coats angin, fra a rickety owd stan
A violin once used bi eur na redundant ban
Young fowk are theear!, t’ owd folk long sin gone,
Granddads owd toolbox,’n grandmas parasol’
Little owd relics treasured ah’m sure
na kicking abart on’t muddy wet floor.
T’ weathers tunin, its startin to rain
Stall odders scurrying, full un distain,
Na’ ta move things of’n a wet through stall.
Now Jonny’s in’t car starting to bawl.
One woman a plastic bag on er ed,
Tuther one wishing shu wer back oam i’ bed
A wunnerful keyboard there on’t side,
Dripping wi watter fra entry to hide.
Nussary men theear laughing wi’ glee,
Een though wet through up’t knee,
‘Is plants they are thriving, looking quite well,
Shrivelled up yesterday? Na no one can tell.
Na’t buyers are going out on’t field,
Sellers-well-they’ve ‘ed not much yield,
One fella, wi watter is at brim so full
Above ‘im was overing, an owd white seagull!
Toa dump orl ar rubbish fra one ta another
Hopin a bargain to tak ‘ooam ta mother
Well! may-be next week things will improve,
Afta orl wea’ar na ont move,
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