When I grew up in days of old
And the sun set over yonder
Old folks spoke in northern brogue
It made me stop and ponder.
In the backstreets of old Rossendale
Where buxom lasses were bonny
We spoke with a local dialect
And people say we talked funny.
In claggy weather we had council pop
Winter woollies when feeling nesh
Mam put our mittens on a string
It made us kids look gormless
If we mithered we were clattered
Told to keep our cakeholes shut
They chided us umpteen times
To keep the back door shut.
We played hide and seek in ginnels
Cleared snow from neighbours paths
Skriked our way through family traumas
Sweated cobs when’t’sun were’t crackin flags.
We spoke a different language
Didn’t give tuppence for what you thought
We’d go t’foot of our stairs
If anyone sold us short.
Fresh air and love we lived off,
With Church socials on a Saturday night
We might have not talked proper
But we treated each other right.
© Alison Jean Hankinson
Image Eden Methodist Walking Day- C 1972
Image Eden Methodist Walking Day- C 1979
I am linking this for the last OLN at d’Verse.
Brogue: a way of speaking English, especially that of Irish or Scottishspeakers:
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Hues of Hankinson 
I loved your poem, and I have a request. I am a sixth grade English teacher in Colorado in the US, when I start working on poetry, may I share your poem with them? They would love it. Plus, it would be so much fun to study your word choices. Looking forward to your reponse.
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You would be very welcome. XXXX what a joy. XXXX I teach in High School. Much love to you.
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Thank you! My kids and I will have fun with this poem. High School is a fun group too. XOXO. Sending love back to my seet comrade teacher!
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If I can butt in, it would be wonderful to have Alison record the poem for you, so you got wonderful cadence of her dialect.
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I agree! Alison, are you game? 🙂
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Chortle…my accent is somewhat mellowed nowadays…I will have a play. XXX
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Yay! Thank you! XXXXX
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I love this! Many of these words I already knew but some are new to me. it is fun reading the words and guessing their meaning. I especially like the “old” pics of you. What a cutie.
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chortle….XXXX
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What a thorough joy was your poem! I loved the colloquialisms and the sort of sassiness of it. Blessings on you and yours this holiday season!
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Love to you too Beverly. Blessings and joy. XXX
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Well, well… You conjure such a strong sense of the past here Alison – a vibrant delight to read.
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Brassy, sassy and oh so colloquial; and yet it is technically in English and not Greek. The poem was thick as porridge, nostalgic as a stack of yearbooks–both fun to read aloud and silently; smile.
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Much love. XXX
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Thank you and much love Glenn. Merry Christmas. XX
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Those were important lessons of our past days ~ Everyone should be treated right ~ Love how your poem sounds when read aloud ~ Happy Holidays to you and your family!!!! Thanks for being part of our community ~
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Love to you too, have a wonderful holiday too. XX
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ReflecTinG iN thE MuSiC
From: then to: now..
Emotional Nuance
tUrned
aLL
glitZ
souL
screenS
unattacheD
WhaT BreaTheS WithiN
BeYonD iNFiNiTY RaiNBoW CoLoRS LoVE..:)
TG
FoR
YT..;)
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A lovely wander through your life.
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Loved your poem and your funny brogue. Such a great story. wonderful memories!
Dwight
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Much love to you and all the best for Christmas. XX
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Just super, Alison. I’d love to hear it aloud.
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I shall try…will have a play…XX
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Such a beautiful glimpse into your childhood. I love all the details which made your poem very visible for me. And yes, the most important thing is to treat others in a good way
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Many thanks. XX
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I’m going to town to buy Scotch after this!
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I love this poem, Alison! Linguistics was one of my subjects at university and I love dialect words. I love those bonny, buxom lasses, the claggy weather and remember mittens on string 🙂
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Fascinating subject I am working on a piece at the university with the Linguistics department and they are unbelievably fascinating…what they know and what they do.. LOVE to you. XXX
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Such a beautiful glimpse into your childhood 🙂 Thank you for sharing ❤️
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Love this Alison – it brought back memories…
Yorkshire born but moved darn sarf aged five, then up to Newcastle aged eleven, but with Yorkshire parents, dialect entered my speech and caused confusion in my schooldays. Also the Yorkshire abbreviation of couldn’t caused problems…
Merry Christmas!
Anna :o]
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chortle…..we had this one….t’int’in’tin….usually preceded by asking where the cake was…
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t’int’in’tin made me chortle – a lot!
The then – maybe still now – Yorkshire term of endearment ‘luv’ was much part of my dads speech. When we moved to Newcastle he made an honest mistake of calling the milkman ‘luv’ who looked ready to take a swing at him!
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Hahaha… I can imagine in NZ they call everyone mate… in my head there was general indignation…
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Some enjoyable phrases that stood out for me of the local dialect: “buxom lasses were bonny” and “Didn’t give tuppence for what you thought” and “Told to keep our cakeholes shut”.
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Cheers Frank. XXX
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I love this poem. It’s so relatable. Lots of life lessons..family, respect, kindness to neighbors. And when you were told to ” keep your cakehole shut” , you did!! Merry Christmas to you.😖
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And to you too. XXXX
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