Hay-making (prose) Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A| I hope my readers will regard that varry gooid advice when they see th' grass cut Mak hay woll th 'sun shines There's nowt aw like better nor to spend a day or two in a hay field Tawk abaat Ho de Colong It doesn't smell hauf as weel to me as a wisp o' new made hay An' them 'at niver knew th' luxury a' gooin' to bed wi' tired booans should work i'th' hay field for a wick It'll do onnybody gooid an' if some o' them idle laewts 'at stand bi a duzzen together at th' loin ends laikin at pitch an' toss wod goa an' work at pitch an' toss they'd be better booath i' mind an' body an' pocket Tossin' th' hay is booath healthful an' lawfur but tossin' hawpneys especially them wi' heeads o' booath sides is nawther Hay makkin' is a honest callin' an' when a chap is gettin' his livin' honestly noa matter what he does he feels independent an' when a chap feels soa he can affooard to spaik what he thinks Aw remember once callin' at th' Calder an' Hebble public haase an' sittin' in a raam wi' a lot o' young swells 'at coom throo Sowerby Brigg an' in a bit a trampified lukkin' chap coom in an' called for a glass o' ale This didn't suit th' young gentlemen soa one on 'em says to him Fellow you are an intruder Tha'rt a liar th' chap says awm nowt at sooart awm a cheer bottom mender an' aw've sarved mi time to it You don't understand me sir what I mean is that you have no business here Noa lad aw niver come to theeas shops when aw've ony business aw allus do that furst This rayther puzzled th' young swell an' his face went as red as a hep cos aw laff'd at him an' he struck his naive o'th' table Sir said he will you take your departure Noa he said aw'll tak nowt 'at doesn't belang to me if aw know on it You're an insolent scoundrel and I leave you with contempt Yo can leeav me wi' who yo like he said awst mislest noabody if they behave therlsen They all went an' left him an' as sooin as they'd getten aat o'th' seet he set up a gurt laff an' called for another glass an' aw nooatised at he gave th' landlord a Sovereign to tak pay aat on an' when he brout him his change back he said Thank you sir an' bow'd to him as if he'd been one o'th' gentry This happened o'th' same day as aw'd been at Briggus an' awst net forget that in a hurry aw'll tell yo abaat it It wor a varry hot day an' aw'd walked throo Halifax an' wor beginin' to get rayther dry an' when aw'd getten ommost thear aw saw a booard shoved aat ov a chamer winder wi' th' words painted on Prime Ginger Beer Sold here soa aw went into th' haase an' ax'd for a bottle He browt me a old hair oil bottle filled wi' summat an a varry mucky lukkin glass to sup aat on Cannot yo let me have a cleean glass maister aw axed That's clean he says for aw bowt it aboon twelve months sin an'it's niver been used for owt but pop Aw emptied th' bottle into it an it lukk'd ommost like milk sops What do yo call all thease things at's swimmin' abaat aw says O that's yeast young man it's a varry gooid thing for ther inside aw'd a doctor once call'd for a bottle an' he wodn't let me tak a bit aat it does fowk gooid Well but wodn't he let yo tak some o' theas pieces o' cork aat aw axed Net a bit for he said they acted tother rooad an' it wor th' best to sup th' lot Do yo sell a gooid deal o' this maister A'a bless yo aw do that Ther wor a real lady coom here o' Sunday afternooin an' shoo supp'd seven bottles an' shoo said shoo'd ha supped seventeen but her stumack wor varry kittle an' shoo wor feear'd e' upsettin it An' wor ther as mich yeast in 'em as ther is i' this aw said E'ea an' moor i' some Why then aw said aw should think shoo'd rise early i'th mornin' Ther's nowt noa better for gooin' to bed on nor for gettin' up on nor that pop Just then somdy coom in for a hawporth o' mustard an' woll he turn'd raand aw emptied it daan th' sink paid mi penny an' hook'd it Soa mich for Briggus aw thowt Aw've oft heeard it spokken on as a risin' place an noa wonder if they swallow yeast at that rate But aw dooant see what all this has to do wi' haymakkin' soa aw'll rake up noa moar sich like things for fear yo pitch into me | A |
John Hartley
(1)
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