Scrobs was chatting with a chap in the village other day, and learned that he used to live in Ilkley, Yorkshire.
It only took a few seconds to get the new acquaintance to start singing the anthem from that particular location, and, more interestingly, he described the song and provided a translation!
- Lyrics in Yorkshire dialect
- Wheear 'ast tha bin sin' ah saw thee, ah saw thee?
- On Ilkla Mooar baht 'at
- Wheear 'ast tha bin sin' ah saw thee, ah saw thee?
- Wheear 'ast tha bin sin' ah saw thee?
- On Ilkla Mooar baht 'at
- On Ilkla Mooar baht 'at
- On Ilkla Mooar baht 'at
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- Tha's been a cooartin' Mary Jane
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- Tha's bahn' to catch thy deeath o' cowd
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- Then us'll ha' to bury thee
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- Then t'worms'll come an' eyt thee oop
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- Then t'ducks'll come an' eyt up t'worms
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- Then us'll go an' eyt up t'ducks
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- Then us'll all ha' etten thee
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- That's wheear we get us ooan back
- I never knew that...!
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- Interpretation in Standard English
- Where have you been since I saw you, I saw you?
- On Ilkley Moor without a hat
- Where have you been since I saw you, I saw you?
- Where have you been since I saw you?
- On Ilkley Moor without a hat
- On Ilkley Moor without a hat
- On Ilkley Moor without a hat
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- You've been courting Mary Jane
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- You're bound to catch your death of cold
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- Then we will have to bury you
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- Then the worms will come and eat you up
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- Then the ducks will come and eat up the worms
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- Then we will go and eat up the ducks
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- Then we will all have eaten you
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- That's where we get our own back
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12 comments:
It only took a few seconds to get the new acquaintance to start singing...
Odd isn't it, how some parts of the the UK have this willingness to break into song while the south-east generally does not? I've met spontaneous outbreaks of singing in Scotland, Wales and Cornwall as well as in Yorkshire, but seldom in the home counties - with the exception of london's East End.
Of course, it helps if you've something to sing about; while the Welsh tend to get misty-eyed about Myfanwy and their scenery (or - my favourite - small saucepans*), the Scots and Cornish tend to offer variations on 'You beat us in battle x hundred years ago and we want revenge!' (or alternatively 'We beat you in battle x hundred years ago and we're ready to do it again!'). The cockneys, meanwhile, have a distinctly party-oriented repertoire (which may, of course, have led to at least some of the inhabitants of the Home Counties seeing themselves as above that sort of thing).
*https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7FhOF-lA6EQ
Well look at that Tedheath is back in town... that's from the 'Tuppeny Bits' that is, written by the late Beatrix Potter. She didn't normally write about sharks, it was usually rabbits and the like.
We used to sing this as boys at the Horn Fair =
As I was a-walking one fine summer morn,
So soft was the wind and the waves on the corn.
I met a pretty damsel upon a grey mare,
And she was a-riding upon a grey mare.
"Now take me up behind you fair maid for to ride",
"Oh no and then, Oh no, for my mammy she would chide,
And then my dear old daddy would beat me full sore,
And never let me ride on his grey mare no more."
"If you would see Horn Fair you must walk on your way,
I will not let you ride on my grey mare today,
You'd rumple all my muslin and uncurl my hair,
And leave me all distrest to be seen at Horn Fair."
"O fairest of damsels, how can you say No?
With you I do intend to Horn Fair for to go,
We'll join the best of company when we do get there,
With horns on their heads, boys, the finest at the Fair.
They are the finest horns you did ever behold,
They are the finest horns and are gilded with gold.
So merrily, right merrily, to Horn Fair we did go,
A jolly brisk couple boys, and all in a row."
We enjoyed a fine walk on Ilkley Moor a few years ago. I remember making a slight diversion to see the Swastika Stone which was as interesting and mysterious as these ancient symbols so often are.
As I've just come back from viewing a bungalow for which I would cheerfully sell most of my body parts and having partaken of some libations thereafter, I've tried to find a rather ribald song from the latest version of "Far from the Madding Crowd" which was sung by Troy after the wedding but to no avail so I'll have to rely on my mum's Accrington memories such as troffins. I am now wondering what song accompanied the black-leading of the fire grate? I may write one when I can bring to name the actual brand she used and will post it on here for your delectation.
Macheath, when I was a violent member of my RFC, we had a superb concert pianist, who provided the music for every rugby song ever written!
We even got to the state of admitting that the club never really worried about losing 58-nil, because the beer was great and we could sing for at least three hours without repeating ourselves!
They don't do that nowadays apparently...:0(
Aaaah the Horn Fair!
Well known for beauty, beer and song, and also a rather dubious travelling bicycle repair shop on stilts, which would service any ladies bike at the flick of a pump! Arrests were never, ever made, and the progenitor always escaped, often with several pairs of silk drawers, which could be used to assuage the various oils which escaped from the nineteen-thirties Sturmey-Archer gears!
God knows where the horn went after the unpleasantness in 'The Bells' on the Thursday evening!
The pic above is 'The Cow and calf', but I have yet to figure out why, Mr H!
I saw those body parts on Ebay, Goosey, and wondered why they were so expensive!
Now I know, I will place my bid accordingly, and await the result! You may have noticed a request for further identification, this is purely for personal use, and will not be used as an attraction here on any post, unless the Wayfarer needs an oil-change (see Corin reply above)!
Corin, one more thing; I thought that was Cockney rhyming slang for either some 'accoutrements' worth considering, or a morning after several pints of stout and a dubious visit to 'The Star of Bengal'!
Corin, rather more dandy highwayman with Robin Hood overtones than knife-wielding underclass exterminator, or at least I'd like to think so!
As for fairs - thanks for the song! - they do seem to provide frequent inspiration for lyrics of varying coherence from Widdecombe to Strawberry ('Rifol rifol, tolderiddledee', for goodness' sake!) and, of course, Scarborough - the latter, following an outburst from a friend who had taken her five children to a nearby funfair, forever rendered in our household as 'Are you going to Scarborough Fair? Pickpockets, dog-poo and sick...'.
Michael, you may have hit the nail on the head - I'd suggest the map of spontaneous communal song coincides most effectively with the keenest rugby-playing parts of the British Isles.
Macheath!
I can still remember staying up late one night in the sixties, the second book of songs on my trembling knees, to learn the several verses of 'O'Reilly's daughter'!
"...drinking rum and Coca Cola, suddenly a thought came down my way I'd like to s***..."
https://youtu.be/rDoz0nWcgGQ
I usually had a Player's Gold Leaf on at that time, hence the dot-dot-dot....
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