Aw've Turned Mi Bit O' Garden O'er
Aw've turned mi bit o' garden o'er, An' set mi seed an' o;
Soa neaw aw've done, aw'll rest a bit, An' sit an' watch it grow.
It's noice to have a little spot, Wheer one con ceawr 'em deawn,
A quiet comfortable place, Eawtside o' th' busy teawn,
Wheer one can sit an' smoke the'r poipe, An' have a friendly chat,
Or read th' newspaper o'er a bit, Or talk abeawt Shurat;
Or listen to some owd mon's tale, Some vet'ran come fro' th' wars;
Aw loike to yer 'em spin the'r yarn, An' show the'r wounds an' scars.
One neet aw thowt aw'd tak' a walk As far as th'Hunter's Teawr,
To beg a daisy root or two: Tom's gan me mony a fleawr.
They're bloomin' i' mi garden neaw, Aw've sich a bonny show;
Aw've daisies, pinks, carnations, too, An' pollyants an' o.
Yo' couldn't think heaw preawd aw feel, O' every plant an' fleawr;
Aw couldn't ha' cared for childer moor, Aw've nursed 'em mony a heawer.
But tho' they neaw look fresh an' fair, They'll droop the'r yeads an' dee;
They hanno lung to tarry here, They're just loike yo' an' me.
Dark-lookin' cleawds are gatherin' reawnd, Aw think it's beawn to rain;
Ther's nowt could pleos me better neaw, Aw should be rare an' fain!
Mi bit o' seed wants deggin' o'er, To help to mak' it spreawt;
It's summat loike a choild's first teeth, 'At wantin' helpin' eawt.
But aw'll be off, afore aw'm wet, It's getten reet agate;
An' while it comes aw think aw'll get A bit o' summat t'ate;
For oh, it is a hungry job, This warkin' eawt o' th'door;
Th'committee should alleaw for this, An' give one rayther moor.
Aw should so loike a good blow eawt, A feed off beefsteak pie;
But aw can ne'er get nowt loike that Wi' th' bit aw draw, not I!
Aw'm glad enough o' porritch neaw, Or tothrey cold potates;
Iv aw can get enoo o' these, Aw'st do till th'factory gates.
It's welly gan o'er rainin', so Aw'll have another look,
An' see heaw th'garden's gettin' on: An' then aw'll get a book,
An' read an heawer or two for th'woife, An' sing a bit for Ted;
Then poo mi clogs off, fasten t'doors, An' walk upsteers to bed.
Samuel Laycock was born in Marsden West Yorkshire the son of a weaver. He moved to Stalybridge aged 9 and in later life to Blackpool for health reasons, where he died in 1893.