Best Lancashire Poems
There was young man from Lancs
who had a strange way of saying thanks.
With his mate Billy
they'd do something silly
like rolling in the mud down the banks.
I bet he's up there, his nag astride,
Ferret in sack, terrier by side.
I bet he's up there charming a lass,
Ciggy in gob and mild in glass.
I bet he's up there seeing united win,
Hollering and swearing " get it in".
I bet he's up there happy at last,
No pain no shame no regrets of the past.
I bet he's up there smirking at us,
Ye silly buggers whats all this fuss.
'JACK the DAW' (In Lancashire Dialect)
Struttin’ and Puffin’ his big chest out,
The streets all clear, when he’s about.
Inside all’doors, waitin’ for’ thump
Families quake and animals jump!
Mam goes to’ door, money in hand
Shakin’ as she stares at his black neck band,
She dares’nt look in his blue black eyes
They say there’s murder an’ spent-up lies.
We just hear his voice, raucous and loud
“Your rent, your rent!” he shouts out proud
An’ all the street kids play
An’ all the street kids say,
Jack the Daw walks down the street
Jack the Daw with his great big feet
Jack the Daw, if he looks your way
Run away, run away, run away, run away!
THE LANCASHIRE LAD 1914-18
Hello Mother, a nurse is writing this for me,
I’ve lost my arm and a bit of my leg you see,
But I’m up on crutches and hobbling about,
So this afternoon, they’re shipping me out!
Please tell Maud next door ‘bout Tommy and Joe and the butcher’s lad Jack,
I’m very sorry but they’re not coming back;
Tommy died at my feet choking in trench, amongst all’ rats, an the stench,
And me an Joe went over the top, they told us to run an we hadn’t to stop,
When a bullet blew up his face, I didn’t stop mother, I still had to race;
Young Jack were frightened an shaking, an he wouldn’t go,
So a bloke told him to shoot off his toe
But the officer heard him when he let out a loud screaming moan
An they took him away mother, an they shot him at dawn.
I’m on the ship now mother, I can see the white cliffs of Dover
Eeeh, but I’m glad it’s all over.
Ay, this ship’s silent mother, it’s as quiet as the grave,
We’re all just looking at England, knowing we’ve been saved,
And now, I’m standing an looking at that green painted, cracked door
An I’m staring, trying to knock but it opens and there you are mother,
With your best paisley-pinny, over your frock.
An your cheeks have lines like trenches, that I’ve never seen before,
An your eyes are wet for every year and more
An my dads behind you with a big wet grin,
And then mother, my bloody wonderful mother grabbed me by shoulders and said,
Where av you bin, get in!”
Lancashire the land i love
with Gods blessing from above
a land where I was meant to be
a land where all are strong and free
With history told down through the years
my Lancashire of love and tears
though years ago, we had to part
your place is still within my heart
I will not see you again
but memories will ease my pain
I will always dream of you
“we won the war of the roses too”
A LANCASHIRE LIASON
“Laugh an world laughs with yer” she said, as she cum in.
I said,“ Do you live in a barn?”
She grimaced an with er large left arm she swung out an shut door.
“Are y’ ere to read last rites? No? Well tek your cap off then”
She whipped the black wool hat from her head and settled down in the chair.
I say settled down. She perched on the edge like a hawk waiting to dive at the plate of biscuits, jammy dodgers, for a her weekly visit.
I had a builders brew all ready for her.
“Well, what do you know Dorothy? Owt or Nowt?”
She laughed in between crunching. “Do yer remember Mrs Newtons daughter, Susan?” I nodded. “Well she’s got another one living wi her, that’s three she’s ad now. This one’s a Derma Filler.”
I said, “Well she’s ad a builder an a plumber, she might as well ave a plasterer.”
She threw her head back laughing almost choking on the last bit of the last biscuit.
“No, its stuff they put in yer face to tek your wrinkles away.”
I smiled, “I know, just kidding wi yer . So tell me Dot, what else ave you got?.”
She sighed, “Not a lot an don’t call me Dot, meks mi sound like a speck”
I thought, ‘oh eck,’
“Well go on Dorothy, what about the lottery, did yer get near?”
She snorted, “Did I eck as like, as far away as Katmandu”
I said “I got 3 numbers, fifteen pounds”
She looked fallen as she creased a smile, “Did you?”
“Anyway" I said, "yer lookin well. Ow ar yer in yerself? ”
As soon as it was out of my mouth I wish I hadn’t said it. She went on for the next hour about her bowels, I were glad to hear the clock strike 4.
“Ey” I said,”that’s four o clock, yer gonna miss your bus!”
She grabbed the hat, plonked it on her head and said, rushing to the door,
“I’m off then Stanley, I ave to seh ‘time flies wen wer together, two of us”
“It does that Dorothy, nice to see yer. See yer nex week”
“Yeh, an it’s my turn for biscuits, I think I’ll mek yer a rhubarb tart dear”
She leaned over me and pecked mi cheek.
I thought after, ‘ee, its bin a long forty year.’
So you want to hear a story, first of all there is no morning glory. Your feet touch the floor its cold as ice as is the water, what a surprise.
With sleepy eyes you look for your clothes, best thing just follow your nose, they are the same ones you have had on all week.
Don't look for underpants, there are none there you never had any but you don't seem to care.
Of you go down the street, following the other kids with wrong sized shoes on my feet.
At least the classroom is nice and warm, Mr Brown is our teacher small man with glasses and a plywood suit (herring bone) he asks the same question he dose everyday, who as not had breakfast today. All the grubby hands go up in the air, we know he has biscuits to share.
At last the dinner bell rings, lets see what today's dinner brings. Cheese and onion pie with crumble to follow, wish we could have the same tomorrow. But when dinner is free, paid for by the state you eat whatever is put on your plate.
If your lucky you have a penny or two spend off to the corner shop with it's penny tray, I could buy the lot , if I had a quid to pay.
I was never good at school, especially maths, Mrs Banks said your as thick as a plank.
Leave school go down the pit, I would be lying if i said I wasn't scared a bit.
Life of a Lancashire lad tha knows, not sure it would have been the one I chose.
The air was damp inside the house, chill creeping through the walls
Swags and Tails with dusty eyes seep through the faded falls.
The garish group sat silently hands splayed upon a table square
Whilst the caller whispers low and weak, “Is there anybody there?”
They wait and listen in the dark then shake in startled shock
As softly as a black cat’s paw, they hear a muffled knock.
Just like a spider climbing up, their bodies crawl with fright
“Was that a knock?” asks Psychic Pat,“ ‘cus I’m sure it was alright!”
“But then again, I’M NOT so sure.” states Mr ‘Medium’ Albert Gore
“Ask again” hissed Mrs Graves. “Spirit if that were you, knock again, once more.”
The room seemed to grow darker. Mr Gore gulped back his fear
“I’ll ask its name. Is that you Mrs Smith? Speak to us. Your friends are all here.”
A voice rang out, just one word “NO!” It was a man’s voice deep and clear.
They huddled close, Pat rolled her eyes, “That’s not Mrs Smith our old dear”
Albert Gore coughed and called, “What’s your name, the man who just said NO.”
Even louder the voice boomed out “My name is Joe”
The letter-box began to flap, they could hear a shifting of feet
“Don’t know about you” says Mrs Graves, “I’m ice-cold an’ feel white as a sheet”
“What do you want?” said Mr Gore,“ you’ll have to be quick we’ve all bin here since five.”
The Spirit voice shouted, “I know! I’m Joe, from next door, ‘an you’re all blocking my drive!