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Some Fooak


algy
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Some Fooak


I don't seem to have a publised copy of this excellent poem by Joseph Baron. My version comes from a typed sheet used by my father. The writer also wrote 'Cuttin Id Teeth'. The message is timeles. I'll explain a few of the words at the end, just in case anyone isn't quite up to speed.

 

 

The above indicates the Authors father - not mine, Algy.

 

 

Some Fooak

by Joseph Baron


Ther’s some fooak are olez on t’ chunner
An’ there’s nob’dy can tell wot abeawt;
An’ there’s others as look black as thunner
They’re as sacklus as hens are i’ t’ mowt.
They’re young an’ they’re strong an’ they’re healthy,
They possess every God-given sense:
But they’re not wot they choose to call ‘wealthy’ –
Meanin’ sov’rins an’ shillin’s an’ pence.

A mon may have brass an’ be ailin’ –
May be fizzickt his life through bi’ quacks –
May be worried to death abeawt failin’ –
In his morals may be rayther lax –
May be vulgar, be childless an’ friendless –
Hev no pleasures but bettin’ an’ booze –
May hev worries and warches ‘at’s endless,
Yet – be envied bi theawsands o’ foos.

Poor foo’s it’s for shadows yer pining
An’ yo’ve substance reight under yo’r een;
Up aboon yo’ God’s lamps may be shining
As yo’ rake up yo’r muck-heaps so keen:
An’ yo’ scrape an’ heap up an’ keep sighing,
An’ God’s marvels are lost to yo’r seet,
While yo’r brief stay on earth here is flying,
Then, of a sudden – how sudden! it’s neet.

Oh, look on yon breet orb descendin’
In a glory o’ crimson an’ gowd –
On yon ocean as tempests are rendin’
Wi’ a fury, sublime to behold,
On each bonny green vale an’ each river,
On mountains, on brids and on trees,
Ay, an’ think as yo’ thank the Great Giver,
Could earth’s treasure buy marvels like these?

Oh list to sweet song as is ringing
From yon thrush to his mate up i’ t’ nest –
Stop an’ hearken yon young muther singing
To her babe as it smiles at her breast;
Hear each hard-workin’ thing ‘at’s created
As it utters it’s innermost bliss –
Is sich rapture bi gowd estimated?
Could a million buy music like this?

Hev yo’ just a green hill to walk up to,
An’ a song fro’ a linnet or lark?
Hev yo’ just an owd crony to talk to,
Or a book, when yo’ve finished yo’r wark?
Hev yo’ wife and young childer as love yo’
An’ mek breeter yo’r life wi’ their mirth?
Then, thank God in His Heaven above yo’ –

 

Dialect Expressions

on t' chunner - grumbling
sacklus - mournful
t'mowt - moulting
brass - money
fizzickt - doctored, as in physician; a quack is a doctor
warches - aches and pains
foos - fools
een - eyes
gowd - gold
brids - birds
sich – such

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Evry day here, at crack o dawn when day's breakin and thars lying snug in blankets thar gets waked up ba soonds o th' brids. Nay sweet song of linnet nor lark but the soonds o cocks calling to each other cock your doodle doooooo! Do I thank God for the sweet soond? Nay! I reach fer neares shoo to throw thru winder at nearest offendin cock wi' hope of ittin it on back o it's neck, or better still, bootin it up arse - that woud gi it summat to crow about!

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Evry day here, at crack o dawn when day's breakin and thars lying snug in blankets thar gets waked up ba soonds o th' brids. Nay sweet song of linnet nor lark but the soonds o cocks calling to each other cock your doodle doooooo! Do I thank God for the sweet soond? Nay! I reach fer neares shoo to throw thru winder at nearest offendin cock wi' hope of ittin it on back o it's neck, or better still, bootin it up arse - that woud gi it summat to crow about!

Cleo, these poems seem to bring out the artistic and tender side of your peronality! . :shock:

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Cleo honestly, you should treat such creatures with great respect and half a pound of sage and onion where the sun don't shine :mrgreen:

 

(edited to avoid confusion as I was referring to the cockerel and not the posters above) :oops:  :wacko:

 

Unfortunately they keep the cocks to keep the hens on their toes and laying. It tends to be the hens that get roasted.

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Unfortunately they keep the cocks to keep the hens on their toes and laying. It tends to be the hens that get roasted.

 

 

They don't just keep them on their toes if the eggs I bought recently is anything to judge by - one of them had been fertilised and when I cracked it open a decomposing chick fell out - not nice :unsure:

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Evry day here, at crack o dawn when day's breakin and thars lying snug in blankets thar gets waked up ba soonds o th' brids. Nay sweet song of linnet nor lark but the soonds o cocks calling to each other cock your doodle doooooo! Do I thank God for the sweet soond? Nay! I reach fer neares shoo to throw thru winder at nearest offendin cock wi' hope of ittin it on back o it's neck, or better still, bootin it up arse - that woud gi it summat to crow about!

Do you then have to spend the morning scuttling around the yard fetching shoes back in?  :lol:

 

Never heard 'sacklus' before, new one on me.

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Do you then have to spend the morning scuttling around the yard fetching shoes back in?  :lol:

 

Never heard 'sacklus' before, new one on me.

Trace, not to be confuse with;  Sackliss – innocent, unconscions. (the latter is presented as printed in the glossary, I rather think it is the result of a misprint and should be 'unconsious'?).

 

Go here to see the full alphabetical Lancashire dialect'

 

Return to Glossary Home Page

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Hardly the chickens' fault. More the fault of the supplier I should thnk.

 

 

I know the truth Cleo - it's the chickens. The beady eyed little psychopaths are even prepared to sacrifice their young - just to ruin our breakfasts  :| It is all part of their master plan.

 

 

The future is grim - the future is feathered. :ph34r:  Beware the birds - our avian overlords !!!!!

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No Tracey, I get my granchildren to bring them back. Or sometimes my daughter-in-law will bring them back and tell me one of the children told her sito had thrown a shoe at the chickens again. :lol:

Sounds like 'sito' needs a clip round the ear!.

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A few months ago one of my daughter-in-law's chickens laid 12 eggs and sat on them and hatched them all out. She was so excited about it. Then one day she came in and said she had found one of them dead. she said one of my cats must have killed it.

No, No, No! My cats are too well fed to go hunting for food. It was either one of the mongrel street cats that kiled it or the mongoose.

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Sounds like 'sito' needs a clip round the ear!.

 

Moi? A clip round the ear?  I am retired, a lady of leisure, I should be able to have a lie in occasionally if I so desired, not woken up at the crack of dawn every day by a village full of damned cocks crowing to each other. My daughter-in-law is a good one with a strong sense of humour (just like me)  and sees the funny side of it all. It's a big joke to her

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