JANNOCK!

Songs, Dances and Romances of the Striding Dales

10. Pateley Races (Blackah)


Attention all, baith great an' small, an' dooan't screw up yer feeaces;
While I rehearse, i' simple verse, a coonto't' Pateley Races
Fra all ower t'moors, they com bi scoores, girt skelpin' lads an' lasses;
An' cats an' dogs an' coos an' hogs, an' hosses mules an' asses.

Oade foaks were thar, fra near an' far, at cuddant fairly hopple
An' laughin' brats as wild as cats ower heeads an' heels did topple.
The Darley lads arrived i' squads, wi' smiles all ower there feeaces,
An Hartwith youths, wi' screw'd-up mooths, in wonder watch'd the reeaces.


Fra Menwith Hill and Folly Gill, Thorntyat, an' Deacre Paster, Fra Thrusscross Green an' t'Heets were seen croods cumin' thick an' faster.
'Tween Bardin Brig an' Threshfield Rigg, Oade Wharfedeeale gat a thinnin'
An Gerston plods laid heavy odds on Creeaven Lass for winnin'.

Sich lots were seen o' Hebdin Green, ready seean on i' t' mornin',
While Aptrick chaps i' carts an' traps were off ta Patela' spernin.
All Greenho' Hill, past coadsteeans kill, com taltherin' an' singin'
Harcastle coves like sheep i' droves, Oade Palmer Simp were bringin'.

Baith short an' tall, past Gowthit Hall, t' up-deealers kept on steerin',
For ne'er before, roond Middlesmoor, had ther been sich a clearin'.
All kinds and sorts o' games and sports, had t' Patela' chaps pervided,
An' weel did t'few, ther business do, 'at ower 'em persided.

'T'wad tek a swell a munth to tell, all t'ins an' oots o't' reeaces,
Hoo far the' ran, which hosses wan, an' which were back'd for pleeaces.
Oad Billy Broon lost hauf-a-croon, wi' Taty- Hawker backin',
For Green Crag flew, ower t'hurdles true, an' wan t'match like a stockin'.


An' Creeaven Lass won lots o' brass, besides delightin' t'Brockils
An Eva danced, an' reared an' pranced, as Gif she stood o' cockles.
But t'donkey race were t'star o' t' pleeace, for oade an' young observers;
'T'wad meeade a nun fra t'convent run, an' ne'er again bi nervous.

Tom Hemp fra t'Steean cried ott 'Well deean', an' t'wife began o' chaffin';
Whal Kirby Jack stack up his back, an' nearly brast wi' laughin'.
Sly Wilsill Bin, fra een ta chin, were plaistered up wi' toffy,
An' lang legged Jane, he'd browt fra t'plain full bent on winnin' t'coffee.


Young pronsy flirts, i' drabbl'd skirts, like painted peeacock's stritches;
While girt chignons like milkin' cans, on ther top-garrits perches.
Fat Sal fra t'Knott scarce got ta t'spot, afore she lost her bustle,
Which sad mishap quite spoiled her shap, an' meeade her itch an' hustle.

Lile pug-nooased Nell, fra Kettlewell, com in her Dolly Vardin,
All frilled an' starched, she proodly march'd wi squintin' Jooa fra Bardin.
There cuffs an' falls, tunics an' shawls, an' fancy pollaneeses,
All sham displays, ower tatter'd stays, an' hard worn ragged chemises.


Ther mushroom fops, fra fields an' shops, fine cigarettes were sookin'
An' lots o' youths wi' beardless mooths, all kinds o' pipes were smookin'.
An when at last the sports were past, all heeamward turn'd ther feeaces,
Ta ne'er relent at e'er the' spent a day wi' Patela' Reeaces....

THOMAS BLACKAH (1828 -95)

Born at Hardcastle near Greenhow Hill. Sometimes wrote under the pseudonym Natty Nydds. SONGS & POEMS published in 1867

I made this song from a beautifully evocative poem written by 19th century Dales dialect writer Thomas Blackah of Greenhow. It is a satirical and deadly accurate description of local �stirrings� in those far off (and poverty stricken) days. Whether or not Blackah was acquainted with Ridley�s �Blaydon Races� I do not know � but here he does an as good (if not better!) job!

Jim Jarratt. Mytholmroyd. 2006

Copyright Jim Jarratt. 2006