A Knock on t’ Dooer
“Whooa’s knockin’ on t’ dooer et this time o’ neet?
- ‘e’s mekkin a ‘ell ev a din!
Whooaever id is, thur’s summat gone wrong –
‘owd on, mon! Aw’ll led tha in.”
Id wor throwin’ id deawn, an’ t’ streeat lamps wor eaut
An’ t’ wind id wor blowin’ a gale
An’ ‘eaulin’ an’ mooanin’ reaund t’ coorner o’ th’eause
Like a ghooast wi a pitiful tale.
Aw pushed back mi cheeor fro’ t’ coorner bi t’ fire
An’ slipped mi owd clogs on mi feeat –
An’ th’ ammerin’ went on like morther wor dun,
Wi’ a din as wod waken o’ t’ streeat.
Aw shoffled deawn t’ lobby an’ geet t’ t’ front-dooer,
Aw fombled wi’ bolts es wor teet,
But bi pushin’ an’ tuggin’ aw getten ‘em undun,
An’ aw opened t’ front-dooer t’t’ wet neet.
Theer, standin’ on t’ dooer-step, drenched reight through t’ t’ skin –
Baht jacket ner cooat – in o’ t’ wet,
Wor yong Jem McGinty fr’ nex’ dooer bu three –
“Whad’s up, lad? Tha deeath tha’ll shure ged.
‘e stood theer an’ gawked, wi’ ‘is meauth oppen wide,
Es though wards t’ ‘is lips wodn’d coom,
Sooa, aw tooak ‘im bi th’ arm, an’ feyrin’ the wost
Set ‘im deawn in a cheeor in t’ best rooam.
“Neaw, whad’s gooin’ on?” (when ‘e ‘d pooed ‘issel to) –
“Is th’ eause barnt, ‘r thi dad lost ‘is brass?”
But pluckin’ up courage, ‘e stommered id eaut –
“C-c-con’t l-l-lend us a p-p-ponny fo’ t’ g-g-gas?”
Mick o’ Pleasington
There's a few more of his poems here:
http://www.hollytreefishandchips.co.uk/dialect.html. Fred Rose, alias Mick O' Pleasington, alias Fred Drag was my (and at least one other member on here) English teacher at secondary school.