Old Lancashire Dialect poems

My mum has passed on to me a very old Notebook that belonged to her grandad, my great-grandad Amos Topping (b.1876 in Blackburn, son of Edwin Topping & Betty nee Wardle).

The Notebook could be anything between 80 to 100 years old, or more. No date on it unfortunately.

It includes four long poems written in Lancashire Dialect, copied out by Amos, whose "party piece" was to recite the poems he collected in this Notebook. There's a note of the original author at the top of each poem.

Each poem tells a wonderful real-life type of story from those old days, & I'm reproducing these later on this Topic thread (Index started below).

I'm a Blackburnian, but had to really study closely in some places to make sense of the old dialect. So - as I gradually transcribe & reproduce them here: If anyone not familiar with old Lancashire dialects - let me know if you want any translating into "queen's" English"? :ck-smile: )

Index to the Poems
(Will make a link from these, as and when I post each.)

Mi Gronfeyther's Coart (by W.Baron) (first one posted today)

My Owd Case Clock (by Fitton)

Eawr Parson from Dingle Cottage (by Joseph Cronshaw)

Owd Betty's Dowters (by George Hull)

Lancashire Dialect poem transcribed by myself from the handwriting of my great-grandad Amos Topping's Notebook.

Mi Gronfeyther's Cooart (W.Baron)
["My grandfather's coat"]

Thats mi gronfeythers cooart as is hung up in t'nook,
An' its bin theer for mony a year,
Its done some good service sin fost it was new,
But its getten a lot worse for weear.
Id wur worn for t'fost time when mi grondad wur wed,
An thats sixty year sin, or mooar;
Yo con see bi id mek as its one o'th'owd style,
For t'tails nelly reych deawn to t'flooar.

Hey, when aw wur yunger, awve laughed monny a time,
When he used to goo eawt wi id on;
For whenever he wooar id, th'owd chap looked so preawd,
An' he fancied hisself quite a don.
Aw remember, at times, when he went on his walks,
Mi gronny ud gooa wi him too;
An' they'd link arms together, an toddle deawn t'street,
Just t'same as you'll see cooarters do.

No matter wheerever my gronfether went,
Th'owd cooart hed to gooa wi' him too;
For he thowt as mich ov't when id geet grey an' patched,
As he did when he fost hed it new.
Mi gronny an' him lived as snug as could be,
Till death snatched hur off fro' his side;
An he followed hur coffin i t'cooart as he woore,
On t'day 'at he med hur his bride.

When mi gronny wur gone he wur left be hissel,
Sooa th'owd chap cooam a living wi' me;
But like as he never wur gradely ageean,
He wur followin' hur fast, aw could see.
He fretted abeawt hur fro' morning to neet,
Till at last he begun to be ill;
An' one summers day, when aw 'd come fro' mi wark,
Mi grondad wur laid cowd an'still.

We buried him clooase to the'owd wife as he'd mourned,
I't quate village churchyard up yon,
An mi heart throbbed wi sorrow, fur th'grave never clooased
O'er a better or kindlier mon,
Aw cried like a child as aw stood o'er his grave,
For aw knew aw should see him no mooar;
An just for a keepsake, awve treasured sin then,
Thad cooat as mi gronfether wooar.

One neet as aw set into th'heawse bi misel,
Th'owd cooat fell off t'nail, on to t'flooar,
When aw lifted id up, like as t'linin's bulked eawt,
Ther was summat inside aw felt sure,
Soon aw ripped t' linin's oppen to see wod ther wur,
An' wod do you think as aw seed?
Ther wur bank nooarts to t' vally o' three hundred peawnd,
As th'owd chap hed left when he deed.

Aw stood theer fair gloppened an' stared like a foo;
As a ceawnted t' nooates o'er one bi one;
For they coom like a blessin' for keepin' th'owd cooat,
At my gronfether thowt so weel on.
Id shall hang theer i't corner as long as aw live,
An shall never do service no mooar;
For a keepsake o' t' deead, an' a treasure to me,
Is t' cooat as mi gronfeyther wooar.

Oh Carole that was very touching .. "I could cethowd mon" ! bless him I enjoyed that although it took some time to read .. I had to keep going back to translate lol

Hi mattycat,

Yes - it took me a long time the first time I read through it, & especially difficult from the old handwriting. Not sure whether I got this word right - have you heard of this before?.......... gloppened - from last verse........
I'm thinking it must mean the same as - we would say..gob-smacked!! :ck-shocked:

Aw stood theer fair gloppened an' stared like a foo;
As a ceawnted t' nooates o'er one bi one;

Translation for anyone who is not a English northerner .........

I stood there fair [gloppened??] and stared like a fool,
As I counted the notes over one by one.

That's a mega poem Cas.
I suprised meself as I ready it through as I would normally.
It must have to do with listening to Horace and Annie, Uncle Billy, Aunty Lizzie, Aunty Mary, and Uncle Dick.
I always remember Uncle Dick singing a song he taught me.
Do you remember it. It went:

Abie, Abie, Abie my boy.
What are you waiting for now.
You promised to marry me one day in June.
It's never too late and it's never too soon.
All the family, Keep on asking me.
Which day, what day.
I don't know what to say.
Abie, Abie, Abie my boy.
What are you waiting for now.
Next pay day.
That's what I'm waiting for now.

Happy memories eh??

Love as always.
Daz
xxx

Hiya Daz,

I've been to my mum & dads today & we all sat down together at my dad's computer to read some of your poems & other stuff on Smith Chat. Mum & Dad very moved by your poems - and when we read this thread & your message above - I said I don't remember that song "Abie" - but mum & dad do & were both singing along with it. Well done - for remembering that Daz!!

See you later aligator,

Cas
xxx