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Lancashire Songs

Chapter 23: A LIFT ON THE WAY.
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.

A LIFT ON THE WAY.

Air—“Come, sit down, my cronies.”

Come, what’s th’ use o’ fratchin’, lads, this life’s noan so lung, So, iv yo’n gether reawnd, aw’ll try my hond at a sung; It may shew a guidin’ glimmer to some wand’rer astray, Or, haply, gi’ some poor owd soul a lift on the way. A lift on the way; A lift on the way; Or, haply, gi’ some poor owd soul a lift on the way.
Life’s road’s full o’ ruts; it’s very slutchy, an’ it’s dree; An’ mony a worn-eawt limper lies him deawn there to dee; Then, fleawnd’rin’ low i’th gutter, he looks reawnd wi’ dismay, To see iv aught i’th world can give a lift on the way. A lift on the way; A lift on the way; To see iv aught i’th world can give a lift on the way.
Oh, there’s some folk ’at mun trudge it, an’ there’s some folk ’at may ride, But, never mortal mon con tell what chance may betide; To-day, he may be blossomin’, like roses i’ May; To-morn, he may be beggin’ for a lift on the way. A lift on the way; A lift on the way; To-morn, he may be beggin’ for a lift on the way.
  Good-will, it’s a jewel, where there’s little else to spare; An’ a mon may help another though his pouch may be bare; A gen’rous heart, like sunshine, brings good cheer in its ray, An’ a friendly word can sometimes give a lift on the way. A lift on the way; A lift on the way; An’ a friendly word can sometimes give a lift on the way.
Like posies ’at are parchin’ in the midsummer sun, There’s mony a poor heart faints afore the journey be run; Then, lay the dust wi’ kindness, till the close of the day, An’ gi’ these droopin’ travellers a lift on the way. A lift on the way; A lift on the way; An’ gi’ these drooping travellers a lift on the way.
Oh, soft be his pillow, when he sinks deawn to his rest, That can keep the lamp o’ charity alive in his breast; May pleasant feelin’s haunt him as he’s dozin’ away, An’ angels give him, up aboon, a lift on the way. A lift on the way; A lift on the way; An’ angels give him, up aboon, a lift on the way.
Jog on, my noble comrades, then, an’ so mote it be,— That hond in hond we travel till the day we mun dee; An’ neaw, to end my ditty, lads, let’s heartily pray That heaven may give us ev’ry one a lift on the way. A lift on the way; A lift on the way; That heaven may give us ev’ry one a lift on the way.