B. It's spitt'n on so let's dee away t' th' 'llotments an' tack cuvva i' th'
cree. Mi fathers got some chucky hens in there an' it's arlreet as lang as
the gissy an' cushies next door a' not distorbed. Divvent put thi hands o'
them fence barks coss th' fulla spelks. Our lad gorra biggen in 'is elby
an' had a job howkin it out. It mad 'im duzzy an' 'e hed t' lap 'is hanky
rund t' stem th' bleedin' an' 'ad a gammy arm. A thowt he'da cowped 'is
boilly, coss 'e was a bit cockerly, burrees champion now.
J. Canna use th' dibble t' had th' door oppen so we'll not get dunched o' our
fingers jarped. Nivva mind here's a stian. Sethee thors a cuppla windy
eggs i' th' nuik. The'll be nee good fo' jarping an' th' pittlin little
things anyway. Mi father says th' lay th'm when th' broody. Bye it is'nt
half loppy in 'ere.
B. Divvent trip ower th' hogger wi them clod hoppers th's gorron o' th'll hev
watta scoittin arl ower. It's arlways higglty pigglty, arv nivven seen it
pulled out strite. Th' can see mi father dissent like gardening, it's wick
wi pittly beds. T' get rid othem y' hefta dig the ruts out an' that tacks
some deein. Nivver mind, th' butterlowies an' bummelers luv 'em. Luck,
there's a red arsty, a hevvent seen one since nigh on a yor.
J. Wiv got cuack fo' tea an' it's fish th' neet so ars away hyam. Did th'
hear th' fish wife carlin Calla Herron, sh's gorra chist like a pair o'
bellars. Keep a gannin.
B. Tarrar.
J. Afor w' haddaway, warra w' deeing th' morn?
B. Seeing it's sarrada w' could play Buck Stone owersells o' hev a
gam o' Relieve O, o' Tiggy On High wi th' lads.
J. Howled, th' nars arv nivva played that.
B. It's easy man. Ones man an' chases iverybody an' tries t' tig y',
burree cannot if y' loup up onto summit an' shout skinsh.
J. That's arlreet then. Sethee an' keep a had.
B. When a got hyam mi mar hed hor pinny off an' purrer corlers in an' mi dar
was knockin' th' dottle out o' 'is pipe forra refill o' backy. Then 'e
combed 'is tash an' a knew th' was summit up. One o' mi dars ard marras
was hyam fr' London coss 'is nevvies wifes had a bairn an' t'get th' rest
orris divvy fro th' Co-op an' th' wor arl gannin t' th' club fo' th'
fiace t' fiace competition an' wet th' babbys heed. Mi dar says 'is marra
tarks a lorra twaddle burrees canny enough. Burrar divvent like th' bloke
coss 'es got clammy harnds an' useta chow backy an' kept spittin i' th'
fire an' mad a mess arl ower mi mars tidy betty, bleazer an' brass fender.
An' a could a brayed 'im when 'e carled us hinny, pet or thoos a canny
bairn.
Mi mar was a bit fuzzy an' mi dar was femma i' th' morn. But th' arl had
a grarnd time. Mi dar says th' was some stuff supped, coss iverybody was
singin an' that mad th're clacks dry. Neebody wanted t' gan hyam when it
was chucking out time. Cordinlye mi mar, th're was one lot that was palatic
an' y' could hev plodged i' the beer th'd spilt, th're tiable was happed
up wi' bottles an' cowped ower. Th' best torn on f' th' Gan As Y' Please
was a brass fiaced hussey but sh' could'nt half joggle hor voice.
This bloke gets sick o' th'm down south haskin 'im ivery morning t' say
Hows The Makkin Out an' Wat Fettle so's they can answer Middlin o' Middlin
T' Fair an' th's nought wors when th' want 'im to sing Blaydon Races coss
it's nowt t' dee wi' Durrum.
