Joyce Haigh
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Joyce Haigh

Joyce joined the U.3.A. Yorkshire Dialect Society just after the classes commenced.
The poem 'Clearin' aht under t'stairs' was included in 'Transactions' 1993, the Yorkshire Dialect Society's magazine. Also another poem 'After the holidays' was included in the book of poems 'Echos of Light' published in Burnley.
Although dialect is the main reason for the meetings the members enjoy trips out, dinners etc., and for a few years have put on Pantomimes written by Dennis Rhodes, only for our own amusement but in dialect rhyme.

A Summer Day in 1946

Autumn 1995

Bertís Rangerover

Clearing Aht Under T'Stairs

T'Air Raid

Write It Dahn

A Summer Day in 1946 by Joyce Haigh

Our village decided on a bit of a do
Cos t'war in Europe wor ovver
Committees wor formed an' a date wor fixed
It caused 'em a reight lot o' bother

A Queen an' attendants 'ad to be picked
A procession round t'village wor plannd
Wi' floats, fancy dress for t'kiddies galore
Led by t'local brass band

Our youth club decided to enter a float
We knew we'd get lots o' laughs
Cos t'oss that we got delivered the milk
An' it wouldn't go back in the shafts

lt'd 'ed nowt to ait an' it didn't like
The roses we put in its mane wi' some clips
It chewed the crepe paper an' weed on the flowers
An' trampled the trimmings to bits

Great Britain was the theme we decided upon
Britannia in red, white an' blue
With helmet an' trident she sat in the middle
All regal, A'll give her her due

Procession set off, led by t'brass band
Queen an' t'attendants in pink
They banged the big drum an' frightened our 'oss
An' by gum, it did make a stink

A told you our 'oss 'ad bin workin' that day
Poor thing, it 'adn't 'ad any dinner
Float just in front looked just like a house
With thatched roof it looked a sure winner

Our hoss followed on an' nibbled an' nibbled
By now the thatched roof almost bare
The people inside it 'ad worked all the 'week
An' by now they were tearin' their hair

So t'feller in front turned round wi 'is stick
To our hoss 'e gave a good thwack
Well t'poor hoss reared up an' on t'float behind
Tipped Britannia up on 'er back

Well trident stuck out an' stabbed someone else
An' they in turn gave a scream
We wor just crossin' t'bridge, we wor lucky you see
Or we'd 'ave all ended up in t'stream

Further down t'road we came to a fork
Procession look t'road to the right
Our hoss turned left an' took a short cut
An' gave each an' all a big fright

Linin' the route the people were laughin'
A move that we 'adn't planned
For who do you think now led the procession
It wor us an' not the brass band

Well t'drum banged behind us an' t'hoss it set off
Like a race hoss it sped past the vicars
Britannia's 'elmet wor ovver 'er eyes
An' 'er trident wr stuck in 'er knickers

We arrived at the field where the judgin' took place
Covered in bruises, red, white an' blue
We were all patriotic in my little tale
I assure you every word's true

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Autumn 1995 by Joyce Haigh

The leaves are turning from green to brown
As the wind blows them merrily around the ground
They fall from the trees so swiftly and fast
Heralding that autumn is coming at last

The conkers are hidden, Shiny and brown
The children search quickly their eyes looking down
Some are tied up with long bits of string
The rest are in pockets, full to the brim

Early morning there's a nip in the air
The flowers are dying, the gardens look bare
Time to get the bulbs planted in
For a colourful show, early next spring

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Bertís Rangerover by Joyce Haigh

Along wi three friends fra t'dialect class
Ah wor gi'en a lift t'other Monda'
But t'step wor too 'igh, an' Ah really did try
Ah thowt Ah weant ger in 'ere till nex' Sunda'

Mi skirt wor too tight, an' try as Ah might
Ah just cudn't get mi leg ovver
Bert wor reight gud, an' 'e gev mi a shove
But Ah caused 'im a fair bit o' bother

Ah lifted mi skirt reight ovver mi knees
But mi knees got colder an' colder
But Bert bein' a gent, with 'is knees slightly bent
Shoved mi in wi' 'is 'ead an' 'is shoulder

Well Ah fell in a 'eap, across t'front seat
Bi nah Bert 'ad goan rahnd ta t'back
It wor Audrey's turn now, wi' an' elegant bow
Bert chucked 'er in like a sack

'E then drove us rahnd, an' called inta tahn
Fer Mildred 'oo waited bi t'dooar
Well she is quite light, but it giv us a fright
Cos she ended up sprawled on t'flooar

Then straight dahn t'ill, wi' went wi' a thrill
Fer Kathleen 'oo lives arahnd t'bend
Nah Bert's 'ad enuff, o' this huffin-n-puff
Soa nex' week a taxi 'e'll send

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Clearing Aht Under T'Stairs by Joyce Haigh

It's a job that's left till it's raining,
clearing aht under t'stairs.
There's noa room for even a thimble,
the junk is piled up in layers.

A Vaccuum, a clothes horse, and an iron,
are used quite regular you see;
but further inside it's a puzzle,
cos we throw nowt away, you an me.

A kite for when it wor windy;
a sledge for when t'snow fell so deep.
Roller skates, cars, an a hedgehog,
a stuffed en, we just hed ta keep.

The piles grow steadily upwards,
as treasures forgotten we found.
Photo's, momento's, an a rabbit,
that cost us a couple a pounds.

A gollywog, a dolly an a teddy,
a duck that's forgotten to quack.
All of 'em browt back memories,
so we put all the blooming lot back.

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T'Air Raid by Joyce Haigh

Wailing sahnd of t'siren,
wakened Joe's family from their beds.
Joe hurries them all to t'shelter,
wi gas masks stuck on their heads.

they sat all t'neet in t'shelter,
wi gas masks still on their heads.
But it wer t'all clear they'd heard, not t'warning,
when t'bomb dropped, they'd been in their beds.

So looking reight silly next morning,
they climbed aht of t's