Ammon Wrigley - "The Dalesman"

The following is a transcription of a work by Saddleworth poet Ammon Wrigley (1861-1946).

The Dalesman

I met a dalesman in the town,
Though wintry cold to me,
He’d summer weather on his face,
As brown as berries be:
His neck was red with farmer’s fare,
Roast beef and home baked bread,
“Ther’s nowt licks livin’ weel, owd lad,
An’ lyin’ warm”, he said.
“An old song of the dales”, I said,
“Is in that twang of thine;
That ever goes deep down in me
And warms my heart like wine;
A song that comes from uplands farms,
From cart ruts up a lane;
From old hay barns and shippon folds,
And cows out in the rain.
The country sounds are in thy voice,
The gentle and the rough;
The sounds of waters splashing o’er
The boulders down a clough.
The wuther of the wild March wind,
The throstle’s April tune;
The sound of mowers whetting scythes,
On haytime morns in June.
The low of cows at milking time,
The hounds out on a hill;
And every word that leaves thy tongue
Hath magic for me still”.

Ammon Wrigley - "The Dalesman"


This page was last modified on 14 August 2018 and has been edited by Dave Pattern.

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