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He did everything backards-road round

Put on his coit

And pulled his hat on his eead

Washed his face wi’a wet dish-claht


And I’m like Whatever


Kids were art laiking

Mucking abart

Ran off darn a ginnel


Roobub pie

Waiting back at home


Some spice afore then

A ha’porth’a Spanish

Wash it darn

Wi’a sup er watter


Ovver yonder

A black clock rushed

From’t depth ‘ot coil-‘oil


I mean

What the actual fuck


The lasses were callin

Having a natter

Wi’t bairns at their apron strings

Reet slags


There were a feyt down at chip-oil

Bob brayed a reet clever-clogs full er chelp

Then got ‘art his brass and paid ‘im an hap-orth


Brought ‘em home

All hot’n’golden



T’chips got etten

I can tell yer



Supp up

I’ll sithee next week


chatday 20dialectNaPoWriMo 2019poem that talksspoken languageyorkshire

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Martin Elder

Sun 21st Apr 2019 14:55

Thoroughly enjoyed this poem Ian but have to apologise for my ignorance is this a Yorkshire dialect

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