Title: Tracing t'Family History
Author: Len Wilde
There's nowt so catching as I can see,
Than tracing t'rooits of your family tree.
Some are shalla, some are deep,
while sum would mak the vary Angels weep.
If th'art ony good at jigsaw, th'as a reight good start,
It might save thee ending wi' a broken heart.
It isn't where tha starts, but its where tha'll end,
If tha're not careful, tha'll be driven round t'bend.
Tha might find riches, tha might find nowt,
Or tha might find more scandal than tha ever thowt.
Tha might find a villain, tha might find a duke,
but tha's got to go on, and have a reight look.
Tha needn't be descended from prominent folk,
so if tha thinks tha're from Royalty, its just a joke.
Tha could come from a Bishop, but I much doubt that,
cos tha'd need a big head to fit his tall hat.
Thi folks might be at top of t'social scale,
or all have done time in t'local jail.
But come what may, tha'r sure to find,
they'll have left traces of their living behind.
Now look further back at t'work at they did,
in case any were hanged ?? heaven forbid.
Try t'pawnbrokers union, or t'Fishmongers Fed,
or they could hev been working in t'weaving shed.
Tha'll find uncles and aunts, and cousins galore,
and some at tha's never heard on before.
So afore tha gets lost among all these relations,
remember, what tha needs is plenty of patience.
Why couldn't they settle all in one spot ?
so its easier for us to find all the lot.
No "great this and great that" they'd all be numbered,
to save wading thro t'archives with which we're lumbered.
There's no doubt about it, let it be said,
no matter however tha's found to be bred,
tha owes it t'family that comes after thee,
to open up t'roots of t'old family tree.
So don't be put off wi' this tale of woe,
just mak a start and have a go,
or tha'll never know what mystery
lies hidden in t'roots of thi family tree.
With thanks to Kevin Wilde!
Title: T'Albatross
Author: A Yorkshire Translation of Baudelaires L'Albatros by PA Walker,
Based on the Dialect as spoken by the Authors Grandfather born in Cleckheaton, West Riding in the 1860's
Oft, if they were stalled t'crew 'd laek abaht
Coppin albatrosses, them grett seea bods.
Snod sooarin marrers 'at foller t'booat
As it plahs through t'watter, ovver t'salty floods.
Scarce ev they pawsed em dahn on t'deck
Na these kings o' t'blew, nah seckless and tewin,
Eart-sluffened let their long wings gooa sleck;
Edd at their sides like ooars at's gaet too brock
fer rowin.
This winged traveller, oo wunce were fair jannock,
Slummocks nah like a reight druffen fooil.
Wun lad brays is neb wi is clae jack,
Another aepes im, mockin t'flyer that thoils such ill.
T'poit's marratabonny to yon prince o' t'clahds,
E rides aboon t'storm and's nooan flaid on unters.
Nah e mun carr on t' grahnd wi blethereeads in crahds,
Kae-legged and brocken winged, stummlin on is unkers.