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Lancashire Songs

Chapter 10: OWD PINDER.
By Edwin Waugh
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Poetry

About This Book

A collection of short songs and ballads written in a regional northern dialect that captures everyday rural and working-class life through domestic scenes, courtship, local characters, celebrations, and moments of hardship. The verse mixes humor and sentiment, employing conversational rhythms, refrains, and vivid local idiom to render communal ties, seasonal chores, and small pleasures. Arranged as brief lyric pieces, the poems alternate playful storytelling, moral reflection, and musical choruses that evoke the sounds and social routines of village life.

OWD PINDER.

Owd Pinder were a rackless foo, An’ spent his days i’ spreein’; At th’ end ov every drinkin’-do, He’re sure to crack o’ deein’; “Go, sell my rags, an’ sell my shoon; Aw’s never live to trail ’em; My ballis-pipes are eawt o’ tune, An’ th’ wynt begins to fail ’em!”
“Eawr Matty’s very fresh an’ yung; ’Twould ony mon bewilder; Hoo’ll wed again afore it’s lung, For th’ lass is fond o’ childer; My bit o’ brass’ll fly,—yo’n see,— When th’ coffin-lid has screened me; It gwos again my pluck to dee, An’ lev her wick beheend me.”
“Come, Matty, come, an’ cool my yed, Aw’m finished, to my thinkin’;” Hoo happed him nicely up, an’ said, “Thae’s brought it on wi’ drinkin’!”— “Nay, nay,” said he, “my fuddle’s done; We’re partin’ t’one fro’ t’other; So, promise me that when aw’m gwon, Thea’ll never wed another!”
“Th’ owd tale,” said hoo, an’ laft her stoo, “It’s rayley past believin’; Thee think o’th’ world thea’rt goin’ to, An’ leave this world to th’ livin’; What use to me can deead folk be? Thae’s kilt thisel’ wi’ spreein’; An’ iv that’s o’ thae wants wi’ me, Get forrud wi’ thi deein’!”
He scrat his yed, he rubbed his e’e, An’ then he donned his breeches; “Eawr Matty gets as fause,” said he, “As one o’ Pendle witches; Iv ever aw’m to muster wit, It mun be now or never; Aw think aw’ll try to live a bit; It wouldn’t do to lev her!”