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Chip Oil by Dave Hall

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Eee Bah Gum ! Twice in One Day by Gary Humble

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Hike by Heather Preston

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The Obituary by Bill Coward

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The Coilman by Dave Hall

Chip Oil by Dave Hall
(Based on a true tale.
My mother worked at "Artis's fish and chip shop" on Green Lane, Baildon. West Yorks
And twice a week the mill order came through, for C.F. Taylors woolen mill.
Mr. and Mrs. Artis, who owned the fish shop, for many years, made an absolute fortune, on the back of these mill orders, and retired early, so spend, and enjoy there money.
Sadly, my mum just had to find another job when the chippy closed.)

Me muther worked at chip oil,
Just three days a week,
Shuvlin chips an wrappin fish,
Mekin parcels neat,
But on Wednesday, and on Friday,
She ad a real hard doo,
She knew her work were cut art,
When t'mill list were sent through,
Taylors Mill were near at hand,
Why, just at end of street,
And they sent there order in,
Tut chippie, twice a week,
Fish n chips sixty times,
And don't forget them scraps,
Eight, no salt an vinagar,
Sixteen, double wrapped,
Cake n chips and mushy peas,
Were ordered by the ton,
And there's allus some soft bugger,
That wants one "Lightly done",
She'd toil wit list, and get stuck in,
She only had an hour,
As lads would cum at twelve o clock,
An say "Ello there flower",
" Ester got our order dun"
"Were barn ta tek it back",
And from their mucky overalls,
They'ed pull an old mail sack,
The sack were stuffed we fish n chips,
Mushy peas and scraps,
Theyed pay there brass and wander off,
I often think --- perhaps,
If I'd have owned a fish oil,
And med a gud few quid,
I'd a geern it up early,
As chip oil owners did.



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Hike by Heather Preston
(
ex-pat - residin in Cambridge, UK)

Gritstone pub wi' flagstone floor
Unkered down on t' fretful moor
Stumble down by t' rushing Swale
Where t' watter's foaming brown as ale

'Ave yer bin up Buckden Pike?
An over t' top – a goodly ike
To t' White Hart pub, tha knows, at Cray
A crackin way to spend a day

Starbotton boozer welcomes walkers
Them as sups, and all the talkers
Keep yer boots on – they doat mind
Yorksher folk – tek as thi find

Get yersen down Langstrothdale
To see the little mouses' tails
That carpenter, 'oo med the pews
As 'is own unique mark did choose

When 'e worked int' church in 'Ubberholme
Which 'as a rood loft, norr a dome
To place a cross, or so thi tell
And keep folks out o' reach o' Hell
Ter see t' day dawn again, ont' fell.

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The Obituary by Bill Coward
(Born in Bingley in 1933)

'By gow, lewk at this, lass, dosta knaw who's just deed?
It sez 'ere i' t'paper, 'at ah've nobbut just seed.
It's owd Tommy Sugden, who ah knew varry weel.
He went an' dropped deead i' t' bar o' t'Lord Peel.'

'Ah doan't think ah knew him; nivver heeard o' t'poor chap.
Unless it's that milkman that hed t'hoss an' trap.'
'Nowh, that wor Sam Oddy thra up Hoyland Moss.
He deed eighteen month sin'. He got pawsed bi his hoss.

'Tha must knaw who ah meean – a gurt brussen feller.
He gate shut o' them rats i' Wilf Barraclough's cellar.
Doan't tha remember? He once selled us a pig,
That he gate thra a chap dahn i' Sawerba Brig.

'Aye, ah knaw who tha meeans, we saw him last spring.
When he joined that theer choir, 'cos he thowt he could sing.
Bud they wodn't hev him in, an' they telled him to goa.'
'Nay, that wor John Ambler thra Cocklebeck Moor.'

'Is it that chap then, 'at used to sell logs?
He lived up bi t'quarry, an' allus wore clogs.'
'Nowh, he wor a thin chap, as sly as a ferret.
He still sups i' t'Bull an' laiks doms wi' Jack Sterrett.'

'It i'n't that poor chap who's noan reight i' his 'eead,
Who gat put away when his mother wor deead?'
'Nay, ther wor nowt wrang wi' Tom; he wor sane as a judge,
Though when he wor druffen, wor an 'ard man to budge.

'Tom wor a tall chap, abaht six fooit three.
An' when he wor young, he ran off to sea.
He cou'n't settle after, an' he nivver liked wark.
Tho' did a few odd jobs an' swept t'leaves up i' t'park.'

'Oh aye, nah ah knaw him. Eeh, just fancy that!
Ah'm reight sorry to hear it. it's med me feel flat.
'Cos ah walked aht wi' 'im afore ah met thee.
Bud he didn't want to wed, said he liked to be free.

'Ah'm glad ah di'n't wed him, t'soart o' chap he turned aht.
Onny wife of his would be just a dish claht.
Bud ah'm sorry he's deead, i' spite of all that.
Here, tak this owd fish-'eead an' gi' it to t'cat.'

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The Coilman by Dave Hall
(Born in Shipley 1947, spent my youth living in Baildon, still living not far from there.
Yorkshire lad , through and through.)


I think it were Tuesday Coilman came, and backed his wagon up t'street,
Heed knock on our door, and say to me Ma "Na then ista allreet"
"I'm none so foul" me Ma would say,
"But I havn't time ter chat"
"Ive a cake in the oven, the baking half done, and I still havn't de-fleaed cat!!"

"How many sacks would you like then lass, cant keep thee away from thee cat"
" Wud yer like three bags as normal, and of course yer nutty slack?"
" I, thattle do" me Ma would say
" I'll go and get some brass"
" Three bags, and a bag of nutty slack , that's eight and fourpence lass"

Heed hump t'coil sacks up on his back.And empty them downt oil,
Heed done it now for thirty years,So he was used tut toil.
Me Ma wud come wi brass int hand, Heed tek it in his grasp.
And in his wagon he would jump.
His job were done at last.
"I'll sithee in a fortneet" heed say wi smile cross gob,
I'd like ter be a coilman it seems a reet gud job

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Eee Bah Gum ! Twice in One Day by Gary Humble
(After using your site and other dialect sources I transcribed my own poem which I used for my Wedding speech as the Groom on Sat 10th April 2010. If you like you can post this as inspiration for others if they so wish to use it for such an event.
The poem entitled "EEE bah gum lad !! Twice in one day" refers to the fact that I and my beautiful wife Jo travelled to the Lakes and Married in Eskdale in a Civil ceremony, then we were blessed at St Olafs Church in Wasdale the same day.
Just for the record it was perfect!!
Hope you like it!!
)

A ‘Verse’ I here you say, ‘What about speeches?’
Well sometimes we don’t have to stick to the rules life teaches
So to break a long lasting somewhat formal tradition
Instead I’ll give my Yorkshire Tyke Wedding Rendition.

But afore I start, an this bit dunt rhyme,
Well it dunt av to does it not all t’bloody time
Yorkshie folk say it ow it is, which might seem abrupt
So if any offence is caused its tough bloody luck,
It’s called Eee Bah Gum !!! Twice in One Day


Afore a start spahtin’ baht howa met Jo
An wheer it all kicked off sum 15 year agu
Kind words of ‘TA!’ to all that’s shown
To our Wedding in Eskdale , yuv travelled t’loans

Yuv braved long jurney int shada ‘o’ Cumbria
But tha’s Yorkshire folk bar two, strength in number ere
But fust to those that carnt bi wi us today
A toast, sum cheer, a thought if you may

But real reason wuv all travelled t’viewsome Lakes
Wont all down to me, mek no mistakes
Itwa Jo who suggested we med this choice
To allow mi father to be wi us, in spirit not voice

And that’s how Jo is with heart n rumance
And that’s why ah married er when ah got bloody chance
But on with thanks to Father n Muther
Who raised sweet Jo, mi Wiff, mi best girl pal, mi luvver

To Al, a Leeds bloke and well smitten father
Who’s straight up and down like a yard ‘o’ pump watter
And Maggy a reet gradely lady, fulla whiffle whaffle n fuss
Who allus travels in style every wheer on t’bus

As a warning thes an ole Yorkshire sayin that goes
Just look at Muther n Father afore tha prupose
But luk ere, tek heed, its fun that ah poke
Ah allus mean good things, it wa nobbutt a joke

An Ta anall to mi Mum, a brussen ole bird
Who’s nivver short o wurds, no doubt yull ov ‘eard
Who’s dragged up thine truly, her no. 1 lad sprog
To be charmin and deleetful, wiv a reet blethering gob!
But shees mi mum and I luvver t’ bits
And I know she’ll say t’same although a gerron her …..wits
So back t’tale of when wi furst met
In Prison, as screws, not convicts, not yet!
Jo was keen reet from t’start
But ah spent some years, allocking a baht
Aye!, I mate a clahthead, a gawby, e’en lacking a day
But tha has to mek sure shes owt like for twice in one day

Sum months wer spent tallying , suppin’ ‘n’ laiking abaht
Enjoying each other till we cunt do withaht
Then we toiled for sum ackers apiece and in May we flew
To a sunnier place, to Mykonos ‘n’ romance there grew
Twas one neet in Kastro’s a disreputable place
Wheer wi no Scarboro warning, on one knee, tipsy, no grace
I opened mi cake oil in a betwaddled haze
Well’ it wa bound to ‘appen, one ‘o’ these days
I spouted to Jo “Afore am crambazzled, Int it time we wed?’
Wi Flitterkins She ansurred “Aye lad, but who’d have us? Course a will, Dick’ead!”

Yer know tha’s in luv, ‘appen when yer carn’t fall akip
Cos reality is finally better than a dreamlike film clip
So she settled mi darn, got me attention an such
Tha can allus tel a Yorkshireman, but tha carnt tell im much

But some time it’s taken, wiv lots of fun on t’way
To get ere, Get Wed, since that night in May
Times med no apeth ‘o’ difference, its nowt to do with luck
I just wanted to mek sure she ant wed t’midden for t’sake of t’muck

Avin sed all this with some fun and some lewd
Ah just wanna sey, Jo, I do really luv you!
Am so fain to call thi mi luvly wife
A reet bobby dazzler, mi trouble mi strife
A finer conny ‘appen, I cunta wished t’marry
So Ta! Al n Mags from yer new Son In Law, Gary

But a well known fact I bet nonna tha knew
That ‘appened today,10th April 1 9 1 2
Twas RMS Titanic Maiden voyage they say
But we all know wharappened that fatefull day
But love stories prevailed lass so dunt tha fret
I’ll be tha Leonardo if tha’ll be mi Kate

Now t’title ov mi verse I hear thi say
And wether she can do it twice in one day
I bet some folk thought , and this is a guess
I was maybe talking about her sexual prowess
But no, Eyup, heed, listen in, if tha may
I was talkin bout getting WED! twice in one day.

So thanks all on yu, fur listning to my Yorkshire type verse
An now for sumthin more than a smidge perverse
Allow a few wurds from mi best man, mi best charver, mi ole mucka Terry
A threpple throated fella, fair rosined an cherry
EE’s as fine as a fart wit frill on, all cauf licked n gay
So Eyup, frame thissen fur wat ee’s gorra say
But afore we all ear some ov mi best mans med up lies
A toast to all, to ease his butterflies

Heres to us, all on us! Me anall!
May we nivver want nowt , noan on us , Nor me Nawther!
Hold up thi glasses and gollup tha Champs
An ope that t’cheapness dunt gi thi t’cramps

Heres to My Beautiful Wife JO!!

Me and you Forever!!!

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