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Six O’Clock At Mornin’ by William Baron
From Bits o’ Broad Lancashire
From ‘My North Countrie – An anthology of poetry and prose of the northern counties’ collected and arranged by Wilfred Pickles. George Allen & Unwin Ltd., 1955.
Six O’Clock At Mornin’
When t’ factory loces uv a neet,
An’ labour’s o’er for t’ day;
Wod throngs o’ warkin’ fooak yo’ll meet,
Wi’ spirits leet an’ gay.
Wi’ step so brisk, they trip along
While jibe an’ banter, jest and song,
Breyk eawt fro’ t’ lips o’ t’ merry throng
When hooam fro’ work retornin’;
But, wod a wondrous change we see! –
An’ mony a time it’s puzzled me,
Why things should so much different be
At six o’clock at mornin’?
Yo’ll see lots scutter off – pell-mell,
As six o’clock draws near;
While t’ warnin’ nooates o’ t’ factory bell,
Ring eawt so bowd an’ clear.
While some - so cheery t’ neet afooar,
Wi’ faces long, an’ hearts so sooar,
Creep slowly to ther wark once mooar,
No smiles ther cheeks adornin’;
No sheawts o’ laughter seawnd i’ th’ air,
Ther broo’s are dark wi’ cleawds o’ care,
For life seems like a desert bare
At six o’clock at mornin’.
Ther’s t’ young chap theer ’at cuts a dash,
An’ dons up every neet;
He’s short o’ nowt but brains an’ cash,
For he’s plenty o’ conceit.
Wi’ t’ billiard cue he’s quite a don,
Gets tumblin’ drunk – to be a mon,
An soo i’ vice he rushes on,
Nor ever thinks o’ tornin’;
His bloodshot een, an’ features pale,
His limbs ’at strength begins to fail,
They tell a sad an’ weary tale,
At six o’clock at mornin’.
You’ll see some odd ’uns, rayther late,
Come pushin’ on ther way;
They hurry deawn tort t’ factory gate,
Wi’ feelin’s far fro gay,
They’re past ther time – they feel quite sure,
An’ as they enter t’ watch-heawse dooar,
They hear ther tackler rave an’ roar –
Ther wild excuses scornin’;
An’ then as to ther looms they run,
They find ’at somebry’s set ’em on,
An’ med a greyt big mash i’ one,
At six o’clock at mornin’.
An’ sooa they peyl along o’ day,
Till neet comes on ageean;
But o’ ther troubles fly away,
When freed fro’ labours cheean.
It’s quite a study, aw declare,
To watch heaw th’ humbler classes fare,
O’ t’ toil an’ strife they hev ther share,
As t’ wheel o’ life keeps tornin’;
Tho’ factory life’s weel mixed wi’ woe,
Yo’ll find id mixed wi’ joys an’ o,
But t’ biggest drawback uv id o,
Is – six o’clock at mornin’.
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