Local Poetry

Th' Owd Aspuller  By Cyril Ashurst

Ah heeard uv a mon mony years ago,
A gradely owd fello' co'ed Jone,
Who lived in a terrace heawse on Aspull Moor
Ut th' bottom eend i' Dicky Lone.

Neaw Jone wur a real fawse owd Lankyshur mon,
An owd Aspuller born un bred,
Un he allus use't say he'd ne'er bin in a charch
Sin' that day when they wayther't his yed.

Well it favvers us one Sund'y mornin'
Owd Jone wur invited to goo
To that charch wot wur known us St Davids
Up Haigh Road ut th' top eend ut broo.

Neaw Jone wur a pitmon deawn th' Alec
Wheer he wark't wi' Bert, his best mate,
Un when Bert ud gie'd him th' invitation,
Jone said, "Awreet, Ah'll meet thi bi th' gate".

Well Owd Jone geet up th' followin' Sund'y
Un soon he wur on his road t'church,
He wanted to get theer early
Fer he didn't want bi left eawt i'th lurch.

When Bert coom they went in fer th' sarvice
Un thi booath ceawered deawn i' th' frunt pew,
Ee, un th' vicar wurn't hawf bang i' fettle,
Aye, he gie'd 'em a reet gradely do.

Ater th' sarvice they cawed i' th Balcarres
Wheer they chatted a while o'er a pint
'til Jone said, "Ah'm beawnt ha' t'bi gooin'
Fer it's geddin toart th' time us Ah dine't".

So Jone went back whom to their Lizzie
Un her made him a nice cup o' tay,
Then ceawerin' o' th' sofie her axed him
Wod he thowt abeawt yon charch at Haigh.

Fer th' owd lass ud getten th' impression
Us summat ud made him feel mad,
Un wantin' to know wod ud happen't
Her said to Jone, "Wot's up owd lad"?

Jone said, "It's yon vicar, he's biased,
Un Ah'm noan gooin' theer again,
He ne'er mention't nobd'y frum Aspull
Th' on'y thing he spoke uv wur Haigh men".