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Lancashire Songs

Chapter 19: NEET-FO’.
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.

NEET-FO’.

Old Air—“When Dolly and I get wed.”

Th’ wynt blows keen thro’ th’ shiverin’ thorn, An’ th’ leet looks wild i’th sky; Come, Tet, stir up that fire, an’ draw That keyther gently by; Aw’ve done my weshin’, gronny; an’ Aw’ve tidied every thing; An’ neaw aw’ll sit me deawn to sew, An’ hearken th’ kettle sing.
Bring in some coals; an’ shut that dur,— It’s quite a wintry day; Reitch deawn that ham; eawr Robin likes A relish to his tay. Sweep th’ grate, an’ set this table eawt; Put th’ tay-pot upo’ th’ oon; It’s gettin’ on for baggin’ time, An’ he’ll be comin’ soon.
Th’ fire bruns clear; an’ th’ heawse begins, A-lookin’ brisk an’ breet, As th’ time draws near when he gets back, Fro’ th’ teawn at th’ edge o’ neet; It makes one hutch wi’ glee to yer A favourite fuut come whoam; An’ it’s very fine to hearken, when One knows its sure to come
Th’ cat pricks up her ears at th’ sneck, Wi’ mony a leetsome toot; An’ th’ owd arm-cheer i’th corner seems, As if it yerd his fuut; Th’ window blinks; an’ th’ clock begins A-tickin’ leawd an’ fain; An’ th’ tin things winkin’ upo’ th’ wole,— They groon as breet again.
Th’ kettle’s hummin’ o’er wi’ fun— Just look at th’ end o’th speawt; It’s like some little sooty lad At’s set his lips to sheawt. Yon wayter-drops at fo’n fro’ th’ tap, Are gettin’ wick wi’ glee; An yo’re fain, gronny, too, aw know,— But noan as fain as me.
Keep th’ rockers gooin’ soft an’ slow, An’ shade that leet away; Aw think this little duck’s o’th mend; Hoo sleeps so weel to-day; Doze on, my darlin’; keep ’em shut,— Those teeny windows blue; Good Lord! iv aught should happen thee, What could thi mother do!
Here, gronny, put this cover on, An’ tuck it nicely in; Keep th’ keyther stirrin’ gently; an’ Make very little din. An’ lap thoose dimpled honds away Fro’ th’ frosty winter air; They lie’n a-top o’ th’ bit o’ quilt, Like two clock-hommers theer.
But stop; hoo’s laughin’! come, hie up; My bonny little puss! God bless it! Daddy’s noan far off; Let mammy have a buss! He’s here! He’s here! Tet, bring that cheer! Eh, dear; these darlin’s two! Iv it wur not for this chylt an’ him, What could a body do!