Jone O’ Grinfilt
by Joseph Lees of Glodwick (1748-1824)
This absolute cracker comes from ‘A Lancashire Garland’, Selected and Edited by G. Halstead Whittaker, Second Impression, 1936, printed at Elipse Works, Staylybridge by Geo. Whittaker & Sons. There was some controversy over the true authorship of this humourous Oldham poem, which became extremely popular and was widely recited across the district.
It tells of a time when the army was passing through Oldham, probably in about 1794 after the outbreak of the French Revolutionary wars, recruiting to its ranks. Jone was evidently experiencing hard times, probably as a result of disruption to trade caused by the war, and the prospect of receiving 'the king's shilling', a smart uniform, regular pay and having a few adventures in foreign parts was attractive. You can read, by clicking the link, about Joseph Dunkerley's similar experience during the Napoleonic wars when he joined the militia in 1803.
'Grinfilt' is 'Greenfield' a district located only a couple of miles east of Oldham town centre. There is something of 'Don Quixote de la Mancha' about Jone.
You can link to an explanatory Glossary, but to get you going, 'sodger' is 'soldier' and 'Jone' is really just 'John'.
Jone O’ Grinfilt
by Joseph Lees
Says Jone to his woife on a whot summer’s day,
"Aw’m resolvt i’ Grinfilt no lunger to stay;
For aw’ll goo to Owdham os fast os aw can,
So fare thee weel Grinfilt, an’ fare thee weel Nan;
For a sodger aw’ll be, an’ brave Owdham aw’ll see,
An aw’ll ha’e a battle wi’ th’ French."
"Dear Jone," said eawr Nan, un’ hoo bitterly cried,
"Wilt be one o’ th’ foote, or theaw means for t’ ride?"
"Ods eawns! wench aw’ll ride oather ass or a mule,
Ere aw’ll keawr i’ Grinfilt os black os th’ owd dule
Booath clemmin’, un’ starvin’, un’ never a fardin’,
It ‘ud welly drive ony mon mad."
"Ay, Jone, sin’ we coom i’ Grinfilt for t’ dwell,
Wey’n had mony a bare meal, aw con vara weel tell."
"Bare meal, ecod! ay, that aw vara weel know,
There’s bin two days this wick ‘ot wey’n had nowt at o’;
Aw’m vara near sided, afore aw’ll abide it,
Aw’ll feight oather Spanish or French."
Then says my Noant Margit, "Ah! Jone, theaw’rt so whot,
Aw’d ne’er go to Owdham, boh i’ England aw’d stop."
"It matters nowt, Madge, for to Owdham aw’ll goo,
Aw’st ne’er clem to deeoth, boh sumbry shall know:
Furst Frenchmon aw find, aw’ll tell him meh mind,
Un’ if he’ll naw feight, he shall run."
Then deawn th’ broo aw coom, for weh livent at top,
Aw thowt aw’d raich Owdham ere ever aw stop;
Ecod! heaw they staret when aw getten to th’ Mumps,
Meh owd hat i’ my hont,un’meh clogs full o’ stumps;
Boh aw soon towd ‘um, aw’re gooin’ to Owdham
Un’ aw’d ha’e a battle wi’ th’ French.
Aw kept eendway thro’ th’ lone, un’ to Owdham aw went,
Aw ax’d a recruit if they’d made up their keawnt?
"Nowe, nowe, honest lad" (for he tawked like a king),
"Goo iw’ meh thro’ th’ street, un’ thee aw will bring
Wheere, if theaw’rt willin’, theaw may ha’e a shillin’."
Ecod! aw thowt this wur rare news.
He browt meh to th’ pleck, where they measurn their height,
Un’ if they bin th’ height they sen nowt abeawt weight;
Aw ratche meh un’ stretch’d meh, un’ never did flinch:
Says th’ mon, "Aw believe theawr’t meh lad to an inch."
Aw thowt this’ll do; aw’st ha’e guineas enoo’.
Ecod! Owdham, brave Owdham for me.
So fare thee weel, Grinfilt, a soger aw’m made:
Aw’ve getten new shoon, un’ a rare nice cockade;
Aw’ll feight for Owd Englond os hard os aw con,
Oather French, Dutch, or Spanish, to me it’s o’ one;
Aw’ll mak’ ‘em to stare, like a new started hare,
Un’ aw’ll tell ‘em fro’ Owdham aw coom.