Obidiah Robinson's Pot Shop
This tale's abairt Obidiah Robinson's Pot Shop,
The date, abairt nineteen oh nine,
One o't places I remember when ah were a lad,
It sticks airt i' this memory o' mine.
Ther wer all soorts o'pots in his pot shop,
The moorst amazing collection yer've seen,
Mi granny bowt a pint pot wi' a frog in,
An' another wi' a picture o't' Queen.
Ther wer pots decorated wi' dialect mottoes,
Which some foork wer inclined to doubt,
"If tha does owt fer nowt, tha mon do it fer thissel,"
And another said "Sup all an' pay nowt."
He'd pots for every use and occaison,
Yer could't ax fer wrong thing in his shop,
Yer could buy owt frae and egg cup to breerd mug,
His shelves wer allus fill to the top.
Abairt two bob wer the price of a breerd mug,
We'd two, stood on bricks, they'd noor legs,
One held abairt eight loorves an' some tay cakes,
An t'other ud be pickling some eggs.
He'd sell scoors o' fancy pots on a field day,
When sunday Schools held the parades,
Nearly every child carrie done of Obidiahs's pots,
In all kinds o' patterns an' shades.
Ah wer walking dairn rooard a few weeks sin,
When I saw summat at caused me to stop,
Two pot dogs like ah saw seventy yer sin,
In Obadiah Robinson's shop.
They're sending chimney pots frae Syke to America,
Ah wonder when this craze'll stop,
Ah'll bet ther's lots o'things being exported,
That first saw dayleet i' Obadiah's shop.
From 'Th' Owd Syker Looks at Life.'
_________________ Mel
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