Cwortin’
by John Trafford Clegg
From ‘Lancashire Miscellany’, edited by James Benett. Published by Hirst, Kidd & Rennie Ltd., Oldham, 1960.
Cwortin'
by John Trafford Clegg
Wilt walk wi’ me o’ Sunday, lass,
When tha’s done teighchin i’ th’ class
An’ we com’n eaut o’ th’ schoo’?
Aw’ll tell thee summat owd an’ sweet –
At th’ end o’ Stonyfielt we’ll meet,
An’ turn up Jacky Broo.
We’ll stop at Dickin Green, an’ watch
Th’ Cut speadin’ brode an’ still to catch
A glint fro’ t’ dhroppin’ sun,
As he gwoes thrindlin his breet wheel
To reighch Know’ Hill, where he con feel
‘At his day’s wark’s hawve done.
Then up bi Hartley Farm we’ll walk,
Where nob’dy’ll come to pry an’ talk,
But sweethearts like eaursel;
An’ on through th’ sondy lones we’ll link
Or undher th’ hedges sit, an’ think
Moore thoughts nor we con tell.
There’s bloom on t’ thorns, an’, as we pass,
Th’ warm wynt, fro’ them an’ th’ mowin’ grass,
Rich gathered scents ‘ll bring,
Teemin’ ‘em reaund us think an’ sweet,
An’ shakin’ levs abeaut eaur feet
Fro’ boughs where throstles sing.
Theere, among th’ meadows, we con find
Reawm to just talk as we’n a mind,
An’ for a while forget
Th’ long chimblies stonnin’ up o reaund,
An’ wandher o’er th’ fleaw’r-scatthert greaund
Wi’ naught to make us fret.
An’ there, like Eve an’ Adam, put
I’ th’ garden-fowt, we s’ be weel shut
Ov every peepin’ foo;
Ah! sweet an’ swift eaur time ‘ll pass,
Iv tha’ll walk wi’ me o’ Sunday, lass,
When we com’n eaut o’ th’ schoo’.