poetry

The North Tyne folks is canny folksFrom Kielder ti the werl,But them that lives i’ Bellingjum’sThe canniest o’ them erl. An’ when ye come amang us, y’oureAs welcome as can be,Ye’ll find that wor hospitabulAn’ open-hearted tee. But if ye plan te settle heor,Ye’ll hatta leorn the rules’We divvent like the cocky yins,An’ canna bide … Read more

Ah met an owld sweetheort the day.Ah’d courted when a lad;She smiled at the same shy way,But, man, hor eyes were sad. Ah kindly asked about hor healthAn’ hoo she’d fared i’life,An’ hed she come the way o’ wealthAs some man’s canny wife. “Three times” – she towld us, -“Ah’ve bin wed,Three times a widow … Read more

Ah wes feelin’ bad this mornin’, Ah’m nowt ower grand ye noo,Thore’s a throbbin’ at me temples, an’ a het flush on my broo;Wi’ achin’ joins an’ catchy thowt, Ah hevvent onny dootAh musta ketch’d the bug they cerl, – “Ah Lot of it Aboot”. The wife, she taks yin look at me, -“Ah know … Read more

Fair Doon the dale the dark North TyneRins bonnie on hor chosen line;Wi’ monny a sparklin’ silvor shineUpon hor faceShe weshes banks she wesh’d lang syneI’ reivin’ days On Kieldor fells she hes hor riseWheor sweet the lang-bill’d curloo cries;An’ tho’ at forst but lowpin’ size,-A wee bit ditch,-Yet bi she gits wheor wor place … Read more

The leet is fadin’ ‘cross the fell as Ah torn hame for lowse,-Anithor lambin’ day is ower, an’ just a score o’ yowesHes yit ti lamb – an’, man, Ah’m croose we’ve gitten this far thro;Without the troubles that we’ve hed the past springtime or two. Ah’m glad we gat the yowes erl dipp’d that … Read more

Noo the canny owld gadjees that wandor abootAlang wor village street,Are the yins that thor wives ivv’ry mornin’ hoy ootFrom undorneath thor feet, Ye can terk as ye like, but it’s aye bin the sameAs lang as Ah can mind;An’ Ah fancy that them that feels pity or shameJust speak o’t as they find. Ye … Read more

THE ‘SPUGGIE‘ Passer domesticus – SpuggieThe “Spuggie” is the Geordie and Northumbrian name for the “House Sparrow” (Passer domesticus). Its name is part of the famous Geordie tongue twister -“Thors a spuggie stuck in the sckeul spoot). They were a mightly pest on farms descending on standing and laid corn crops, and devouring newly sown grass seed. … Read more

Oot ower the fell, he’s eyes aglint.Aye scroongin’ owt below,Yon crafty ridor o’ the wind,Theor flees the corbie crow. A blackie’s eye hes fancy feed,A pickle blood he’s dram,He spies hes belly’s orgent need.A werm-dopt kebbit lamb. The splodges on yon tufty knoweErl bloo an’ kerl noo showJust hoo the sorra o’ the yoweWes suppor … Read more

When wintor skies deep frost forebodes,Or snows come snell an’ bittor;Way up an’ doon the North Tyne roadsGans Willie wi’ hes grittor. Worth ivv’ry penny o’ yor rates,Wor Willie is nee quittor;Of erl the lads amang hes matesYe winna find a fittor. Hes wagon load o’ grit an’ selt,Yince seen, ye’ll no forgit hor;For when … Read more

Just two things kills a yowe, Ah’m towld,An’t’s no see vary wrang,-She’s eethor gittin some bit cowld,Or else she’s lain ower lang. For if she’s ta’en in’ int’ hor heid,(An’ whee’s ti stand an’ blame hor?)That’s time she laid hor doon an’ deidThor’s nowt’ll stop the flamor! Thore’s sic a yin ahint yon tree,What’s gittenn … Read more

Northumberland, history, culture, dialect, Robert Allen, humour By Clive Dalton Robert and his wife Angela moved into Redesmouth farm, near Bellingham around 1950. After Robert had done his military service he gained farm experience near Prendwick before taking over at Redesmouth farm, which his father Colonel Allen from Haydon Bridge owned and had rented out … Read more