THE PUTTER
Aw'm just a smaaly laddy,
Hardly aud eneugh te hew;
But Aw've held me awn at puttin,
Wi' the best Aw ivor knew.
Give us plenty bate an' bottle,
Plenty beaf an' baccy chews,
An' Aw'll bet maw bunch o' tokens
That frae gannen doon te lowse --
Chorus:
Aw'm running for the odd un,
Aw'm running for the odd un,
Aw'm running for the odd un,
Frae gannen doon te lowse
Thor's a hawf-a-dozen gannins
At the flat that Aw'm at noo,
An' if Aw'd me awn i' choosin,
Aw'd hev number one or two.
But dash me, somehoo or other,
Hoo it comes Aw divn't knaw;
But as sure's Aw rub me kyevel,
It's the warst one o' the saw…
Chorus:
Aw'm running for the odd un,
Aw'm running for the odd un,
Aw'm running for the odd un,
Frae gannen doon te lowse
Thor's a hitch an' then a swally
Filled wi' wetter like a ford,
An' a lot o' way aal twisted
I' the clarty gannin bord;
Thor's law planks an' raggy kanches
Where Aw've sometimes got a smack,
An' it myeks ye twist yor gizzort
If ye chance te catch yor back…
Chorus:
Aw'm running for the odd un,
Aw'm running for the odd un,
Aw'm running for the odd un,
Frae gannen doon te lowse
Thor's a short plate an' a lang un
Near the double turn inbye;
They've been fettled wiv a closer,
An' that closer winnet lye.
O, that short plate an' that closer!
Cud they speak, what wad they say?
For Aw've tell'd them lots o' secrets
When Aw've tummel'd off the way…
Chorus:
Aw'm running for the odd un,
Aw'm running for the odd un,
Aw'm running for the odd un,
Frae gannen doon te lowse
Thor's a lang, law heavy pillor
Inbyeside the canvas door,
Where Aw horse the scrubbin full uns
Up for eighteen pence a score:
Hoo Aw bliss that lang, law pillor!
Hoo that awful hitch Aw dreed!
For its fearful wark this stickin
An' this shuvin wi' yor heed…
Chorus:
Aw'm running for the odd un,
Aw'm running for the odd un,
Aw'm running for the odd un,
Frae gannen doon te lowse
Thor's a man o' mine, a hewer,
Weers a shirt o' flannen blue,
Which Aw fill'd away at Christmas
Kas he didn't bring me doo;
Lork! ye shud hev heard him sweerin',
Hoo he'd bruise at ivory bat,
While he chased me wi' the shot-stick
But Aw lick'd him te the flat!…
Chorus:
Aw'm running for the odd un,
Aw'm running for the odd un,
Aw'm running for the odd un,
Frae gannen doon te lowse
But the warst ov a' the evils
Thit a lad like me endures,
Isn't wark, and isn't danger,
But the lang ten dreary oors.
For, ye see, a one thit's anxious
Te command a canny pay,
Is in shorter time exhausted,
For throo a' the dowly day...
Chorus:
Aw'm running for the odd un,
Aw'm running for the odd un,
Aw'm running for the odd un,
Frae gannen doon te lowse
(Alexander Barrass, c.1892)