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The Saga of the Sykers http://www.briercliffesociety.co.uk/talkback/viewtopic.php?f=25&t=768 |
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Author: | Mel [ Fri Jan 25, 2008 10:57 am ] |
Post subject: | The Saga of the Sykers |
The Saga of the Sykers The strangets of stories yer'll ever-a-red Abairt Roggerham Bob an' Loinbottom Ted, Tow old cronies frae t'Syke, gerring awld but quite sane, Who set off to London on Jack Butterfield's train. When they saw it i't paper, Ted said: "Just the job, We've nair bin to London, let's spend a few bob. We've noor women to bother us, to play heck or to moan. We'll say nowt to noorbody, just pop off on air own." So, early that Saturday, withairt moor ado, They set off to t'Station, were first i' the queue, But ah dairt very much, if they's a getten aboard If they'd a known at traindriver were Burnley's Bob Lord. They sat theer entranced, watching t'coloured TV, They'd nair sin owt like it, were quite plain to see, Then they went into Disco, but ah'm telling yer straight, They thowt they said Bisto, an it wer summat to eight. When they landed i' London, they'd see life i't raw, They said: "To heck wi the football, we'll go to Soho," First they set on th'Embankment, but it's sad to relate, A dog snaiked up behind, an' ran off wi the bait. That reight upset Roggerham, it ud taen a long time to make, There wer five ovenbottoms an' their Marthann's sad cake. So Bob chased off after it, he didn't aif lift his feet, That wer' last time Ted saw him, till later that neet. Air Ted wer' quite worried, they'd to start back at six, An Bob hed boorth tickets, he weren't aif in a fix, He'd fergetten t'name o't station to go fer t'train. So he searched all o'er London, fer Bob, but in vain. Ted went up to a bobby, said every mon to his job, "Hes ter sin out of a pal o' mine, Roggerham Bob? It's best ah describe him, then thar'll know whot he's like, He's a little fat chap, bald-heerded, an he keeps pigeons up Syke. "He's weerin a white fustian wescoit, an' a cap wi' two nebs, Which he bowt at a jumble, fer tuppence, o'er Kebs An his clogs hes brass toorplates that are polished like gould, Which he geet frae Bill Cloggers, they're oer 70 yer ould." Said: "It's first time we've left England, and air first time abroad." That booby wer dumbstruck, just stood theer aghast, But Ted said: "Ah'm frae t'Syke, it's i' England." he wer game to the last. The bobby were flummoxed, couldn't tell wot he said, So he sent for an interpreter to listen to ted, But after he'd listened, an' tried hard so hard to please, Said: "I'm awfully sorry, but I don't know Chinese." Ted really wer' worried, it wer' gerring quite late, So he said to another bobby: "Ah want that train to th'Aggate." "You mean Highgate, I presume Sir." as he leaned on his bike. Ted said "Highgate bi beggered, ah mearn 'Aggate up Syke." Just then two big lads came striding i' view, They wer boorth weering bonnets o' claret an' blue. Ted tore off after 'em, he strove might an' main, Shairting: "Let mi come wi yer, tek mi back to that train." When they geet back ter t'station, an' pushed through the mob. Theer, sat dairn on a trolley, wer' Roggerham Bob. He said, "Ahve sin Piccadilly, Leicester Square an' such like. They con ev ruddy London, let's get back up ter t'Syke." From 'Th' Owd Syker Looks at Life.' |
Author: | DAVID B [ Fri Jan 25, 2008 11:08 am ] |
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What a fantastic dialect poem,I have tears in my eyes with laughing. They don't make 'em like that anymore. |
Author: | portia [ Fri Jan 25, 2008 11:38 am ] |
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Pardon my ignorance, but who was Jack Butterfield? |
Author: | DAVID B [ Fri Jan 25, 2008 12:08 pm ] |
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Author: | portia [ Fri Jan 25, 2008 12:19 pm ] |
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Author: | DAVID B [ Fri Jan 25, 2008 12:33 pm ] |
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Author: | portia [ Fri Jan 25, 2008 1:02 pm ] |
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Author: | Mel [ Fri Jan 25, 2008 1:46 pm ] |
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Author: | DAVID B [ Fri Jan 25, 2008 1:54 pm ] |
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