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)