Wigan Dialect

Jeff Unsworth

 

Gradely Mey't

( To read the translation of this poem click here )

 

 

..

 

It's ard fot understond dialect.

Ikkle surprise mi if tha con.

Cos theres cert'in things that’s said reawnd here.

Tha corn't mek yed nor tail on.


I mean, eaw con't expect a southerner.

Us is in a queue wi us.

Understond when some yowth asks.

For two un orf peawnd er praytus.


Neaw.. folk up north are gradely.

Un by God thi know eawt eyt.

Cos thowduns learn or't younguns.

Eawt cook a piece er meyt.


Theres tripe un brawn un wessun.

Lambs fry un slavvery duck.

Theres ceawheel un sometimes a nice sheeps yed.

Wi't legs wi any luck.


Theres elder,pigs cheek un trotters.

Oxtail un a nice bit er tung.

Burr it's moo'istly thowduns that eyt it.

They'l not touch it when theyre young.


Today they know nowt abeawt cookin.

They gerr it aw eawt of a con.

Or else theyre defrost'in a packit.

Thowd road of cookin is gone.


In't thowd days, nowt gett'n wasted.

Ballyhond day, in't miggle er't week.

Aw't left ore's geet clod in a greyt fry'in pon.

Un come eawt as bubble un squeek.


Toad in't th'ole, lobbies un broth.

Else bakin till aw hars er't neet.

Jackbit that went a good way.

Were't th'answer for mek'in theends meet.


Tha could'nt blame really.

It were hard fot mek them eend's meet.

They did best thi could, with what they could get.

Un moo'ist were run off theyre feet.


I look back sometimes ter't thowd days.

Un although there were'nt allus Mey't.

I remember there were allus jackbit.

We allus had summ'ut fot eyt.

 


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Copyright © 1998 Jeff Unsworth

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