Ammon Wrigley - "Nan O' Ratcher's"
The following is a transcription of a work by Saddleworth poet Ammon Wrigley (1861-1946).
Nan O’ Ratcher’s
- Hoo ne’er does nowt fro’ morn toh neet
- Nawt hearken eaut un spir,
- Un howt hoo yers hoo ratches it
- Un macks it ten times wur.
- Hoo knews heaw owd everybody is
- Un wheer thi’r bred un born,
- Un wheer thi bowt ther Sunday cloas
- Un heaw lung thi’n bin worn.
- Hoo’s awlus fain when sumdy dees,
- Fur then hoo’ll gawp un stond,
- Un pike op th’ stairs wi’ th’ berrin foak
- Toh see heaw th’ corpse is donned;
- Then off hoo pops, th’ owd oppen chops,
- Wi’ sich a yeawlin din;
- Hoo’s tellin here, un tellin theer,
- Its feawest corpse hoo’s sin.
- Ut Sunday, too, hoo’s in her pew,
- Her een i’ every nook,
- If sumdy’s donned i’ summat new
- Hoo doesn’t forget toh look;
- “Hay dear,” hoo’ll seh,”awm gradely fast,
- Awm fere i’ pins bi’ th’ mass,
- Aw connut tell fur th’ life o’ me,
- Wheer yond thing gets it brass.”