Lancashire dialect
A woman’s werk or am gooin wom.
“Am gooin wom ,“ mi mam sed,when erd cooked mi faither’s tay,
“Am gooin wom, so listen tert things have got ter say,
am teckin Fred, un Sissy too, un Charlie un eawr Sid
un cat, unt dog, unt goldfish, un mi bonnie little brid
then thee con sup ar neet, un lay i bed ar day,
fer me, am gooin wom, when have sidied up thi tay,
un clenned eawt mi oven, un donkey stoned mi step,
so don't thi try un stop mi, cos have had enough by eck
am fed up wi thi pit clooers, thrown deawn ont kitchen floor,
un am fed up er hangin um, ont nail ert back ert door,
am fed up wi thi pit dirt, thi clogs, un dirty hands,
un am sick er listnin trumpit, tha plays int colliery band.
am fed up wi thi whippet, cos its never won a race,
un am fed up wi thi pigeons, cos loft’s a sheer disgrace,
am fed up wi thi drinkin, black stout un raisin beer,
so am gooin ter mi mams, un tomorrow al not bi here
al just finish Sissy’s bedroom off, cos er lino needs er shine
then al do eawr Charlie’s washin, un hang it eawt ont line,
then when have pur ort kids ter bed, un bathed um ont peg rug,
un made sure thiv sed the prayers, al tuck um up reet snug.
un crawl inter mi cosy nook, un darn thi holey sock
before a tackles th'ironin, cos eawr Sissy needs er frock,
then when’t fires last embers deed deawn int fire grate
al clamber up that wooden hill, cos am tired, un it's ter late
un don't try any funny business, cos am sick to dearth er thee
sittin theer int rockin cheer as quiet as con be,
what's that tha sez, tha luvs mi, neaw, don't look at mi like that,
fer tha knows am gooin wom, so al fotch mi coat an hat
have pur um theer ont sideboord, so ther ready fer int morn,
then when thas on thi own, thal know that thas bin born,
neaw am gooin up to bed, cos am tired, an it's ter late
un al bi off tomorrow mornin, when ave clenned that dirty grate,
un scraped eawt th' esshole, un got thi jack bit tin,
un pur in thi jam butties, then browt thi pit clogs in,
neaw have towd thi Jack fert last time, am gooin ter mi mams
so Jack don't look at mi like that, cos a don't know weer a am,
but ones thing fer certin, when tha looks at mi a knows,
this luv that wi have allus shared has thorns just like er rose
so al put mi hat un coat back, fer a remember’t day wi wed
un promises wi made Jack, so ferget them things a sed.”
Sally James
published in Manifold and e-line magazine Worm
Commin wom fromt’ pit
Eeh lad, whats that skrikin like that fer
Thi eyes ul be ar red un raw
Stop mekkin that noise like er babby
Er thi mother ul gi thi wot for.
Neaw, thi must be skrikin fer summat
The’s summat that’s makin thi yell
Neaw sit on mi knee like a good lad
Fer am certin am not gooin ter tell.
Aye lad, tha’s breakin thi heart
Un a know, tha just corn’t understand
So here, wipe thi eyes, wi mi hanky
Sted er wit back er thi hand.
Neaw spit it or out, tell thi gran, neaw
Un a promise, al nor have er fit
Bur a know it must be summat
Fer thi dad’s not come wom yet from’t pit.
A saw um ar runnin when’t siren
Went off with a long wailing cry
Then a heard an explosion like thunder
That sent ar that smook intert sky.
Neaw lad, just bi brave, cos al tell thi
No news, is good news, that knows,
So, sit thi sel deawn on mi knee neaw,
Un wipe snot, from’t end er thi nose.
Tha’s not said er word, fer a lung time
Un’t fire’s almost eawt, i yon grate
But mi shawl is keepin us warm lad
Un’t candle u’ll burn until late.
Hush, summat is happinin eawtside
A con hear some pit clogs in’t backyard
So lad wakken up, un be brave neaw
Un owd tight, ter mi hand, very hard.
Neaw it’s me, who’s skriken instead lad
Cos a corn’t si so much i this leet
Only shadows dancin on’t walls
Un’t gas lamps dim flicker in’t street.
Eeh lad, what’s that laughin like that fer
Tha’s soon changed thi tune, un am glad
A con just make him eawt, his cum wom lad,
So run wom, ter mi son, un thi dad.
Sally James
Published in e-line magazines Worm and Mindfire summer 2005
Armcheer caewboy
Sittin bi the fireside in his favorite armchair
wit television blastin eawt, i doesn't have er care.
Hi jumps abeawt, un dodges, the bullets us thi fly
then gallops on his horse, givin eawt er gaspin sigh.
Fer his hero lies sore wounded, wi un arrow in his chest
wi bright red blood or spurtin eawt, ter soil his tattered vest.
Mi faither teckin or this in, yells eawt ter "Shoot him back, "
fert wagun train un’t cavalry ul soon bi on his track.
Wit whistlin arrows flyin passed, hi dodges un hi darts
( dad's never bin auditioned yet but likes the hero’s parts.)
At last the show is over, dad groans un reads his book
of course it is er western, tha con see his dreamy look.
"Tea's ready neaw," mi mother calls, dad puts his book erside
un sits deawn ert the table, un er little smile he'll hide.
Fer it isn't beans un coffee; un steak cooked red un rare
un mother isn't, "Saucy Lil" wi wide eyed sexy stare.
It's back ter be-in civilized, un eightin dainty cakes
wi’t knife, un’t fork, un’t tea-cup, un’t napkin bi his plate
Fer his white shirt is immaculate, wi no blood stains on his vest
no holsters on his hips, un no arrows in his chest
bespectacled, clean shaven, polished clogs tha have no spurs
un no saddle sore behind, from his comfy fireside chair.
Sally James
A bun in the oven.
Am gooin to mi Auntie Annie's
I like her, she's big un fat,
She allus has er pinny on
Un her hair done in a plait.
Yer can allus smell her cookin
Is it apple er jam tart?
Er maybe rhubarb crumble
Eh! It nearly breaks mi heart.
At last she'll oppen th'oven dooer
It smells as it's from heaven,
Lovely scones un currant cake
Eh! Am glad am only seven.
She'll sit me deawn ert side ert grate
Un say, "Ast washed thi paws?
Well here thi are, now eat it up
That's wor ave cooked it for."
Eh! A love mi Auntie Annie
A know she's big un fat,
Un a know she's gor er foncy mon
With er big black trilby hat.
But he's like me, he likes his grub,
Un mi Auntie Annie too,
So don't worry Auntie Annie,
I'll not tell on you.
What's matter Auntie Annie?
Why's yer eye all bruised un black?,
Why's all yer Sunday clothes
Tied up i that big sack?.
Tell mi Auntie Annie
When your Sam come home from t'pit,
Did he see yer wi yer foncy mon
Then nearly have a fit?
But Auntie Annie only sighed
As she rolled her pastry flat,
"It's him a love who eats mi cake
Un wears a black trilby hat."
"Well I never said," I cried aloud
But Auntie only laughed,
"Don't fret thisel, it's over now
But thar uncle must be daft."
"He never liked mi currant cakes,
Mi tarts un apple crumble,
But him wi't trilby hat
Well, a never heard him grumble."
"So now am movin out o' town
Un thal nee'r see mi no mooer,
Am off wi him wi't trilby hat
That's hangin oon yon door."
"But Auntie Annie , I love thi too
Although thas big un fat,
Through eatin all them cakes
Wi him wi't trilby hat."
Well I nee'r saw Auntie Annie
Till I was nine er ten,
Er wer walkin deawn yon street
Un didn't haif look well.
So a said, "Hey Auntie Annie,
Dost remember me?"
"Eh lad," said Auntie Annie
"Ave got a lad like thee.
His only two, 'ere tek a look,"
Un in't yon pram wer sat,
A babby eatin' currant cake
Wi a small black trilby hat.
Sally James
(Bun in the oven read on local radio many times. Published 1991 in In Lancashire Language Editor Bob Dobson)
Lonely hearts snub
Am attractive un vivacious,
professional, un slim,
am four foot two, wi eyes er blue,
un am hopin ter meet HIM.
He must certainly bi good lookin,
wi eyes er green er breawn,
bi articulate, un cheerful,
er reet slicker in the teawn.
He must bi educated, uncomplicated,
strung, aye, un very wise,
un he musn't have false teeth,
er two skennin blood shot eyes.
A don't want him chewin bacco,
un he musn't even smook,
un if he spits int fire,
he con tek his flamin ook.
He mun make no vulgar noises,
that means, he musn't burp er fart,
fer if he does, a certainly,
won't gi that mon mi heart.
He must er course be single,
er divorced, it doesn't matter,
be teetotal, wi no belly,
though, a like um er bit fatter.
He must respect me, love me,
aye, un do as I command,
un shower me wi kisses,
bur only on mi hand.
Neaw, these er my credentials,
un, if thi fits this fine description,
please, ring me at this number,
if tha has, no notable affliction.
Tha con meet mi, bi the teawn hall clock,
un mun wear, er white carnation,
bur I'll not wear mi wig, because,
have got this awful irritation.
Me peg leg, I'll leave int boot ert car,
mi glass eye, in mi purse,
cos I don't want thi ter si mi,
lookin ert mi worst.
Un, if tha feels romantic,
am afraid, tha'll have to sheawt,
fer me teeth, have gon't bi mended,
un mi hearin aid,keeps fallin eawt.
Bur, in case tha still con'nt se me,
I'll wear, a bloomin rose,
fer am four foot two, wi one eye er blue,
un wi er wart upon mi nose!
Sally James
Published in Lancashire Lingo Lines 1999 read on local radio
Alternative medicine
Dogs are meant fer strokin,
un in er funny sort er way
when strokin its soft gentle fur
yer cares just fly away.
It's as if some hidden tension
is eased bi strokin hair
transferred from dog ter human
is the abolisher of care.
So when tha feelin stressful
un life just gets thi deawn
un ‘t face that thi er wearin
is just er doleful freawn.
Don't trundle ter thi doctors
he'll just write thi er prescription
fer portions, pills, un medicines
in or manner er description.
Just ger er dog un stroke it
un shower it wi affection
it'll wag its tail, un lick thi
when tha's made the reet connection.
Un tha'll allus have er faithful friend
until its deein day
so get them pills un portions
un throw the lot erway.
Fer tha con never ger addicted
to er hairy tranquilizer
un the er no hidden side effects
in er four-legged sympathiser.
Sally JamesA woman’s werk or am gooin wom.
“Am gooin wom ,“ mi mam sed,when erd cooked mi faither’s tay,
“Am gooin wom, so listen tert things have got ter say,
am teckin Fred, un Sissy too, un Charlie un eawr Sid
un cat, unt dog, unt goldfish, un mi bonnie little brid
then thee con sup ar neet, un lay i bed ar day,
fer me, am gooin wom, when have sidied up thi tay,
un clenned eawt mi oven, un donkey stoned mi step,
so don't thi try un stop mi, cos have had enough by eck
am fed up wi thi pit clooers, thrown deawn ont kitchen floor,
un am fed up er hangin um, ont nail ert back ert door,
am fed up wi thi pit dirt, thi clogs, un dirty hands,
un am sick er listnin trumpit, tha plays int colliery band.
am fed up wi thi whippet, cos its never won a race,
un am fed up wi thi pigeons, cos loft’s a sheer disgrace,
am fed up wi thi drinkin, black stout un raisin beer,
so am gooin ter mi mams, un tomorrow al not bi here
al just finish Sissy’s bedroom off, cos er lino needs er shine
then al do eawr Charlie’s washin, un hang it eawt ont line,
then when have pur ort kids ter bed, un bathed um ont peg rug,
un made sure thiv sed the prayers, al tuck um up reet snug.
un crawl inter mi cosy nook, un darn thi holey sock
before a tackles th'ironin, cos eawr Sissy needs er frock,
then when’t fires last embers deed deawn int fire grate
al clamber up that wooden hill, cos am tired, un it's ter late
un don't try any funny business, cos am sick to dearth er thee
sittin theer int rockin cheer as quiet as con be,
what's that tha sez, tha luvs mi, neaw, don't look at mi like that,
fer tha knows am gooin wom, so al fotch mi coat an hat
have pur um theer ont sideboord, so ther ready fer int morn,
then when thas on thi own, thal know that thas bin born,
neaw am gooin up to bed, cos am tired, an it's ter late
un al bi off tomorrow mornin, when ave clenned that dirty grate,
un scraped eawt th' esshole, un got thi jack bit tin,
un pur in thi jam butties, then browt thi pit clogs in,
neaw have towd thi Jack fert last time, am gooin ter mi mams
so Jack don't look at mi like that, cos a don't know weer a am,
but ones thing fer certin, when tha looks at mi a knows,
this luv that wi have allus shared has thorns just like er rose
so al put mi hat un coat back, fer a remember’t day wi wed
un promises wi made Jack, so ferget them things a sed.”
sally james
published in Manifold and e-line magazine Worm
A woman’s werk or am gooin wom.
“Am gooin wom ,“ mi mam sed,when erd cooked mi faither’s tay,
“Am gooin wom, so listen tert things have got ter say,
am teckin Fred, un Sissy too, un Charlie un eawr Sid
un cat, unt dog, unt goldfish, un mi bonnie little brid
then thee con sup ar neet, un lay i bed ar day,
fer me, am gooin wom, when have sidied up thi tay,
un clenned eawt mi oven, un donkey stoned mi step,
so don't thi try un stop mi, cos have had enough by eck
am fed up wi thi pit clooers, thrown deawn ont kitchen floor,
un am fed up er hangin um, ont nail ert back ert door,
am fed up wi thi pit dirt, thi clogs, un dirty hands,
un am sick er listnin trumpit, tha plays int colliery band.
am fed up wi thi whippet, cos its never won a race,
un am fed up wi thi pigeons, cos loft’s a sheer disgrace,
am fed up wi thi drinkin, black stout un raisin beer,
so am gooin ter mi mams, un tomorrow al not bi here
al just finish Sissy’s bedroom off, cos er lino needs er shine
then al do eawr Charlie’s washin, un hang it eawt ont line,
then when have pur ort kids ter bed, un bathed um ont peg rug,
un made sure thiv sed the prayers, al tuck um up reet snug.
un crawl inter mi cosy nook, un darn thi holey sock
before a tackles th'ironin, cos eawr Sissy needs er frock,
then when’t fires last embers deed deawn int fire grate
al clamber up that wooden hill, cos am tired, un it's ter late
un don't try any funny business, cos am sick to dearth er thee
sittin theer int rockin cheer as quiet as con be,
what's that tha sez, tha luvs mi, neaw, don't look at mi like that,
fer tha knows am gooin wom, so al fotch mi coat an hat
have pur um theer ont sideboord, so ther ready fer int morn,
then when thas on thi own, thal know that thas bin born,
neaw am gooin up to bed, cos am tired, an it's ter late
un al bi off tomorrow mornin, when ave clenned that dirty grate,
un scraped eawt th' esshole, un got thi jack bit tin,
un pur in thi jam butties, then browt thi pit clogs in,
neaw have towd thi Jack fert last time, am gooin ter mi mams
so Jack don't look at mi like that, cos a don't know weer a am,
but ones thing fer certin, when tha looks at mi a knows,
this luv that wi have allus shared has thorns just like er rose
so al put mi hat un coat back, fer a remember’t day wi wed
un promises wi made Jack, so ferget them things a sed.”
Sally James
published in Manifold and e-line magazine Worm
Commin wom fromt’ pit
Eeh lad, whats that skrikin like that fer
Thi eyes ul be ar red un raw
Stop mekkin that noise like er babby
Er thi mother ul gi thi wot for.
Neaw, thi must be skrikin fer summat
The’s summat that’s makin thi yell
Neaw sit on mi knee like a good lad
Fer am certin am not gooin ter tell.
Aye lad, tha’s breakin thi heart
Un a know, tha just corn’t understand
So here, wipe thi eyes, wi mi hanky
Sted er wit back er thi hand.
Neaw spit it or out, tell thi gran, neaw
Un a promise, al nor have er fit
Bur a know it must be summat
Fer thi dad’s not come wom yet from’t pit.
A saw um ar runnin when’t siren
Went off with a long wailing cry
Then a heard an explosion like thunder
That sent ar that smook intert sky.
Neaw lad, just bi brave, cos al tell thi
No news, is good news, that knows,
So, sit thi sel deawn on mi knee neaw,
Un wipe snot, from’t end er thi nose.
Tha’s not said er word, fer a lung time
Un’t fire’s almost eawt, i yon grate
But mi shawl is keepin us warm lad
Un’t candle u’ll burn until late.
Hush, summat is happinin eawtside
A con hear some pit clogs in’t backyard
So lad wakken up, un be brave neaw
Un owd tight, ter mi hand, very hard.
Neaw it’s me, who’s skriken instead lad
Cos a corn’t si so much i this leet
Only shadows dancin on’t walls
Un’t gas lamps dim flicker in’t street.
Eeh lad, what’s that laughin like that fer
Tha’s soon changed thi tune, un am glad
A con just make him eawt, his cum wom lad,
So run wom, ter mi son, un thi dad.
Sally James
Published in e-line magazines Worm and Mindfire summer 2005
Armcheer caewboy
Sittin bi the fireside in his favorite armchair
wit television blastin eawt, i doesn't have er care.
Hi jumps abeawt, un dodges, the bullets us thi fly
then gallops on his horse, givin eawt er gaspin sigh.
Fer his hero lies sore wounded, wi un arrow in his chest
wi bright red blood or spurtin eawt, ter soil his tattered vest.
Mi faither teckin or this in, yells eawt ter "Shoot him back, "
fert wagun train un’t cavalry ul soon bi on his track.
Wit whistlin arrows flyin passed, hi dodges un hi darts
( dad's never bin auditioned yet but likes the hero’s parts.)
At last the show is over, dad groans un reads his book
of course it is er western, tha con see his dreamy look.
"Tea's ready neaw," mi mother calls, dad puts his book erside
un sits deawn ert the table, un er little smile he'll hide.
Fer it isn't beans un coffee; un steak cooked red un rare
un mother isn't, "Saucy Lil" wi wide eyed sexy stare.
It's back ter be-in civilized, un eightin dainty cakes
wi’t knife, un’t fork, un’t tea-cup, un’t napkin bi his plate
Fer his white shirt is immaculate, wi no blood stains on his vest
no holsters on his hips, un no arrows in his chest
bespectacled, clean shaven, polished clogs tha have no spurs
un no saddle sore behind, from his comfy fireside chair.
Sally James
A bun in the oven.
Am gooin to mi Auntie Annie's
I like her, she's big un fat,
She allus has er pinny on
Un her hair done in a plait.
Yer can allus smell her cookin
Is it apple er jam tart?
Er maybe rhubarb crumble
Eh! It nearly breaks mi heart.
At last she'll oppen th'oven dooer
It smells as it's from heaven,
Lovely scones un currant cake
Eh! Am glad am only seven.
She'll sit me deawn ert side ert grate
Un say, "Ast washed thi paws?
Well here thi are, now eat it up
That's wor ave cooked it for."
Eh! A love mi Auntie Annie
A know she's big un fat,
Un a know she's gor er foncy mon
With er big black trilby hat.
But he's like me, he likes his grub,
Un mi Auntie Annie too,
So don't worry Auntie Annie,
I'll not tell on you.
What's matter Auntie Annie?
Why's yer eye all bruised un black?,
Why's all yer Sunday clothes
Tied up i that big sack?.
Tell mi Auntie Annie
When your Sam come home from t'pit,
Did he see yer wi yer foncy mon
Then nearly have a fit?
But Auntie Annie only sighed
As she rolled her pastry flat,
"It's him a love who eats mi cake
Un wears a black trilby hat."
"Well I never said," I cried aloud
But Auntie only laughed,
"Don't fret thisel, it's over now
But thar uncle must be daft."
"He never liked mi currant cakes,
Mi tarts un apple crumble,
But him wi't trilby hat
Well, a never heard him grumble."
"So now am movin out o' town
Un thal nee'r see mi no mooer,
Am off wi him wi't trilby hat
That's hangin oon yon door."
"But Auntie Annie , I love thi too
Although thas big un fat,
Through eatin all them cakes
Wi him wi't trilby hat."
Well I nee'r saw Auntie Annie
Till I was nine er ten,
Er wer walkin deawn yon street
Un didn't haif look well.
So a said, "Hey Auntie Annie,
Dost remember me?"
"Eh lad," said Auntie Annie
"Ave got a lad like thee.
His only two, 'ere tek a look,"
Un in't yon pram wer sat,
A babby eatin' currant cake
Wi a small black trilby hat.
Sally James
(Bun in the oven read on local radio many times. Published 1991 in In Lancashire Language Editor Bob Dobson)
Lonely hearts snub
Am attractive un vivacious,
professional, un slim,
am four foot two, wi eyes er blue,
un am hopin ter meet HIM.
He must certainly bi good lookin,
wi eyes er green er breawn,
bi articulate, un cheerful,
er reet slicker in the teawn.
He must bi educated, uncomplicated,
strung, aye, un very wise,
un he musn't have false teeth,
er two skennin blood shot eyes.
A don't want him chewin bacco,
un he musn't even smook,
un if he spits int fire,
he con tek his flamin ook.
He mun make no vulgar noises,
that means, he musn't burp er fart,
fer if he does, a certainly,
won't gi that mon mi heart.
He must er course be single,
er divorced, it doesn't matter,
be teetotal, wi no belly,
though, a like um er bit fatter.
He must respect me, love me,
aye, un do as I command,
un shower me wi kisses,
bur only on mi hand.
Neaw, these er my credentials,
un, if thi fits this fine description,
please, ring me at this number,
if tha has, no notable affliction.
Tha con meet mi, bi the teawn hall clock,
un mun wear, er white carnation,
bur I'll not wear mi wig, because,
have got this awful irritation.
Me peg leg, I'll leave int boot ert car,
mi glass eye, in mi purse,
cos I don't want thi ter si mi,
lookin ert mi worst.
Un, if tha feels romantic,
am afraid, tha'll have to sheawt,
fer me teeth, have gon't bi mended,
un mi hearin aid,keeps fallin eawt.
Bur, in case tha still con'nt se me,
I'll wear, a bloomin rose,
fer am four foot two, wi one eye er blue,
un wi er wart upon mi nose!
Sally James
Published in Lancashire Lingo Lines 1999 read on local radio
Alternative medicine
Dogs are meant fer strokin,
un in er funny sort er way
when strokin its soft gentle fur
yer cares just fly away.
It's as if some hidden tension
is eased bi strokin hair
transferred from dog ter human
is the abolisher of care.
So when tha feelin stressful
un life just gets thi deawn
un ‘t face that thi er wearin
is just er doleful freawn.
Don't trundle ter thi doctors
he'll just write thi er prescription
fer portions, pills, un medicines
in or manner er description.
Just ger er dog un stroke it
un shower it wi affection
it'll wag its tail, un lick thi
when tha's made the reet connection.
Un tha'll allus have er faithful friend
until its deein day
so get them pills un portions
un throw the lot erway.
Fer tha con never ger addicted
to er hairy tranquilizer
un the er no hidden side effects
in er four-legged sympathiser.
Sally JamesA woman’s werk or am gooin wom.
“Am gooin wom ,“ mi mam sed,when erd cooked mi faither’s tay,
“Am gooin wom, so listen tert things have got ter say,
am teckin Fred, un Sissy too, un Charlie un eawr Sid
un cat, unt dog, unt goldfish, un mi bonnie little brid
then thee con sup ar neet, un lay i bed ar day,
fer me, am gooin wom, when have sidied up thi tay,
un clenned eawt mi oven, un donkey stoned mi step,
so don't thi try un stop mi, cos have had enough by eck
am fed up wi thi pit clooers, thrown deawn ont kitchen floor,
un am fed up er hangin um, ont nail ert back ert door,
am fed up wi thi pit dirt, thi clogs, un dirty hands,
un am sick er listnin trumpit, tha plays int colliery band.
am fed up wi thi whippet, cos its never won a race,
un am fed up wi thi pigeons, cos loft’s a sheer disgrace,
am fed up wi thi drinkin, black stout un raisin beer,
so am gooin ter mi mams, un tomorrow al not bi here
al just finish Sissy’s bedroom off, cos er lino needs er shine
then al do eawr Charlie’s washin, un hang it eawt ont line,
then when have pur ort kids ter bed, un bathed um ont peg rug,
un made sure thiv sed the prayers, al tuck um up reet snug.
un crawl inter mi cosy nook, un darn thi holey sock
before a tackles th'ironin, cos eawr Sissy needs er frock,
then when’t fires last embers deed deawn int fire grate
al clamber up that wooden hill, cos am tired, un it's ter late
un don't try any funny business, cos am sick to dearth er thee
sittin theer int rockin cheer as quiet as con be,
what's that tha sez, tha luvs mi, neaw, don't look at mi like that,
fer tha knows am gooin wom, so al fotch mi coat an hat
have pur um theer ont sideboord, so ther ready fer int morn,
then when thas on thi own, thal know that thas bin born,
neaw am gooin up to bed, cos am tired, an it's ter late
un al bi off tomorrow mornin, when ave clenned that dirty grate,
un scraped eawt th' esshole, un got thi jack bit tin,
un pur in thi jam butties, then browt thi pit clogs in,
neaw have towd thi Jack fert last time, am gooin ter mi mams
so Jack don't look at mi like that, cos a don't know weer a am,
but ones thing fer certin, when tha looks at mi a knows,
this luv that wi have allus shared has thorns just like er rose
so al put mi hat un coat back, fer a remember’t day wi wed
un promises wi made Jack, so ferget them things a sed.”
sally james
published in Manifold and e-line magazine Worm