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Th’ Ballies by Elijah Ridings (1802 – 1872)
From ‘Lancashire Miscellany’, edited by James Benett. Published by Hirst, Kidd & Rennie Ltd., Oldham, 1960.
Another ‘belter’ from Elijah Ridings, the Failsworth poet who later became an innkeeper and then owned a book-stall in Withy Grove, Manchester. The poem describes an incident that sounds as though it might have been inspired by real life. Ridings intervenes in an argument – a fight rather – in an alehouse between a man and his wife. Some of the dialect writers indicate that violence of all kinds was often common in nineteenth century society (e.g. see Ab o' th' Yates's Dictionary). At first the husband agrees to back off and have, instead, a glass of beer with him, but they are interrupted by the wife, who comes at them with such ferocity that Ridings is terrified, and eventually is the target for the fire bellows (‘ballies’) that are hurled at him!
Words that might cause problems - and you can also go to the Glossary:
Sonded = sanded – the stone floor sprinkled with sand to keep it clean
Awfu’ een = awful eyes – piercing look
Foyer potther – fire poker
B’yet = beat
Jow = knock
A seause = a blow
Stayl = steal
Dick woife = Dick’s wife – an old form of referring to a man's wife
Yure = hair
Wackert = trembled
Feort = frightened
Tak my woint = get my breath
Yed = head Th’ Ballies
by Elijah Ridings
Aw’r stondin’ by Dick Bumpkin’s heawse, -
Th’ owd “Fleece,” i’ Withy Grove;
His woife an’ him wur fowin’ eawt,
So in aw thowt aw’d shove:
An’ theer, on th’ sonded kitchen floor,
Aw seed Dick glooarin’ stond,
Wi’ face as red as th’ kitchen foyer,
An’ th’ poker i’ his hond.
Aw fix’d on Dick my awfu’ een,
Aw ne’er had known to fail;
Aw said, “Neaw, Dick, lad, come wi’ me,
An’ have a gill o’ ale.”
His yed it tumblet on his breast,
An’ th’ poker tumblet too;
Aw said, “Come, Dick, and sit thee deawn,
An’ dunna be a foo’.”
“What, tak’ a foyer-potther, mon;
Theaw’lt other kill or lawme:
Aw never seed sich gooins on, -
Is n’t it a brunnin shawme?
Theaw meet uz weel b’yet th’ cherry-trees,
Or th’ gable eend o’ th’ heawse;
Or jow thi yed gen’ th’ chimney-piece,
Or fotch thysel’ a seawse.”
“Well, then,” said Dick, “aw’ll sit meh deawn,
An’ have a gill o’ ale
Wi’ thee, ‘fore onny mon i’ th’ teawn;
Theaw’lt noather lie nor stayl.”
“Aw’ve awlos yeard it sed, aw think,
To th’ best of o’ my thowt, -
‘They met b’yet th’ devil in um soon,
Boh they conno’ b’yet him eawt.’”
We seet us deawn, an’ geet some dhrink;
When in Dick woife hoo sallie,
An’ at my yed, wi’ o’ her meet,
Hoo bang’d a pair o’ ballies:
An’ th’ ballies whistlet i’ my ear,
An’ smasht on th’ ale-house wall;
Or aw should ne’er ha’ towd this tale,
Or stoode besoide my stall.
Aw fix’d on th’ woife my awfu’ een;
But fun’ it would no’ do;
So aw thowt aw’d tak’ mysel’ away,
If hoo’d boh lemmy goo.
My yure stood op, my pluck wur deawn,
Aw wakert cowd an’ pale;
Aw thout aw’d grope my way to th’ dur –
Boh fost aw swoipt my ale.
Dick woife hoo glooart, an’ aw’r so feort,
Aw could no’ tak’ my woint;
At last aw geet i’ th’ Withy Grove,
An’ never look’t behoint.
So neaw aw’m safe – tak’ my advoice,
An’ keep fro’ Dicks and Mallies;
For, if yo goo ‘tween mon an’ woife,
Hoo’ll split yur yed wi’ th’ Ballies.
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