Library / Literature & Fiction

Songs of the Ridings

by F. W. Moorman

Pages
about 17
Category
Literature & Fiction
Language
English
Reading time
19 min at 250 wpm
Start readingThe whole book, as cards or one word at a time. 10 min at 450 wpm in Read mode.

From the opening

I’d fain lig wi’ my kinsfolk, Fore-elders, brothers, sons, Wheer t’ star-fish shine like twinklin’ leets, An’ t’ spring-tide watter runs. T’ kirkyard’s good for farm-folk, That ploo an’ milk their kye, But I could sleep maist soondly Wheer t’ ships gan sailin’ by.

T’ grave is whisht[4] an’ foulsome, But clean is t’ saut sea-bed; Thoo can hark to t’ billows dancin’ To t’ tune o’ t’ tide owerhead. Yon wreaths o’ floors i’ t’ kirkyard Sean wither an’ fade away, But t’ sea-tang wreaths round a droon’d man’s head Will bide while Judgment Day.

Sae fettle[5] my owd blue coble, I kessen’d her “Mornin’ Star,” An’ I’ll away through t’ offin’ Wheer t’ skooals o’ mack’rel are. Thoo can look for my boat i’ t’ harbour, When thoo’s said thy mornin’ psalm; Mebbe I’ll fill my fish-creel full— Mebbe I’ll nean coom yam.

One yeer owder, one yeer dearer: That’s what I sal awlus say. Draw thy chair a little nearer, Put yon stockin’s reight away. Thou hast done enough i’ thy time, Tewed i’ t’ house an’ wrowt at loom; Just for once thou mun sit idle, Feet on t’ hear’stone, fingers toom.[1]

One yeer owder, one yeer dearer: So I promised when we wed. Then thy een were glest’rin’ clearer Nor the stars aboon us spread. If they’re dimmer now, they’re tend’rer, An’ yon wrinkles on thy face Tell a lesson true as t’ Bible, Speik o’ charity an’ grace.

One yeer owder, one yeer dearer: We’ve supped sorrow, tasted joy, But our love has grown sincerer, Gethered strength nowt can destroy. Love is like an oak i’ t’ forest, Ivery yeer it adds a ring; Love is like yon ivin tendrils, Ivery day they closer cling.

One yeer owder, one yeer dearer: Time’s the shuttle, life’s the yarn. Have thy crosses seemed severer ’Cause thou niver had a barn? Mebbe I sud not have loved thee Hauf so weel, if I mud share All our secret thowts wi’ childer, Twinin’ round my owd arm-chair.

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