Yorkshire Tales. Third Series: Amusing sketches of Yorkshire Life in the Yorkshire DialectHartley, John
General
Yorkshire Tales. Third Series: Amusing sketches of Yorkshire Life in the Yorkshire Dialect
Hartley, John
English language -- Dialects -- England -- Yorkshire; Yorkshire (England) -- Fiction
Sundy mornin saw Sammywell up i' gooid time, an his first job wor to
feed his chickens. He felt quite like a farmer in a small way. Then
Mally had to goa an peep at em. "Sammywell! come hither this minnit!"
shoo called aght, an he ran daan fit to braik his neck. "Peep into that
corner," shoo sed, as shoo raised th' hamper lid. An thear sewer enuff;
ther wor a nice white egg. He picked it aght gently an they booath
examined it, an they thowt they'd nivver seen one as nice befoor.
"What mun we do wi it?" sed Mally.
"Aw think th' best thing to do wi it will be to ait it."
"It ommost luks a shame, but still aw suppooas that's what its for. Aw
wonder which laid it. Does ta think it wor th' black en or th' braan en?
Aw fancy it wor th' white en."
"Eeah, aw think it must ha been th' white en," sed Sammywell, "but get
it boiled an we'll share it."
They wor as pleeased as two childer ovver ther braikfast, an it had
seldom happened at they'd booath been in sich a gooid temper as they wor
when they started for th' chapel. Sammywell had oppened th' cellar
winder to let some air in, an after lockin th' door they wor just
startin off, when what should they see but that white chicken pickin
away i'th fould.
"Nah, tha sees what tha's done! Tha's left th' lid off that hamper! Aw
wish tha'd let things alooan at tha doesn't understand. Tha knows nowt
abaat chickens."
"It's thi own fault for leeavin th' cellar winder oppen! Onny fooil mud
ha known better nor that. But let's drive it back, if we leeav it aght
it'll be lost."
"Shoo shoo," went Sammy, an "Shoo shoo," went Mally, but th' chicken
seemed to tak varry little nooatice, until Sammywell made a click at it,
then it gave a scream an ran between his legs, an seemed detarmined to
goa onnywhear except to th' cellar winder. Hepsabah wor lukkin aght o'th
winder an saw what they wor tryin to do, soa shoo coom aght wi th' long
brush to help em, an little Jerrymier coom to help too. "Nah, gently
does it," sed Sammywell, an they gethered raand in a ring an it lukt as
if they wor just gooin to nab it, when Jerrymier sed "Shoo, shoo" an
away it flew, clean ovver ther heeads, daan th' ginnel an aght into
Westgate.
"Tha young taistrel!" sed Sammywell, but he off after it as hard as he
could, an a fine race it gave him. Up one street an daan another they
went, but Sammywell's blooid wor up an he worn't gooin to be lickt wi a
bit ov a chicken. Th' streets wor lined wi fowk gooin to chapel or
church, an they shook ther heeads in a varry meeanin way, an some on em
turned up th' whites o' ther een as if they wor tryin to see th' inside
o' ther heeads, but Sammywell went on an nivver lost seet o'th chicken.
They'd ommost getten to th' taan hall, when they coom to a spice shop an
th' door wor oppen, an in it popt. "Nah, aw've getten thi!" he sed, an
he follered it in an shut th' door.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account