Dauphy: Are you entering Chelsea Owen’s poetry challenge this month?
Hobbo: No, I don’t think so.
Dauphy: Why not.
Hobbo: I can’t get a handle on the subject.
Dauphy: What is it?
Hobbo: You have to write a rant. I haven’t got a rant in my body!
Dauphy: Psht!
Hobbo: What do you mean, psht?
Dauphy: You’re a Yorkshireman aren’t you? Ranting is as natural as breathing.
Hobbo: Thanks Dauphy. I’m not sure I agree with that, but you’ve given me a great idea.
Dauphy: De rien!
A Yorksher Rant Tha' mun think that, am med o'brass Well, shove it up yer Khyber Pass Fifty bob fer chips wi' scraps I dunt pay that fer good flat caps! Tha' thieving sod, tha'll rob me blind 'all take me stick, 'ave 'alf a mind To stick it where the sun don't shine Tha' robbin' git, tha' greedy swine. I'm an O.A.P tha' knows I wotchit, where me money goes So, tha' can keep thee chips, instead 'all mek do wi' some drippin' bread. Translation You may think that I have lots of money Well, you can put that money in your bottom Β£2.50 for french fries with trimmings It costs me less for decent headgear. You are a thief who is prepared to scam me I am inclined to take my walking cane And put it in a painful place you robbing villain, you greedy scoundrel. You know I'm an old age pensioner And I have to be prudent with money So you keep your chips for yourself, whilst I Will have some bread spread liberally with pork fat.
Awesome! I do love the “Yorksher” ones! They remind me a little of one of the characters in Wuthering Heights… I can’t think of his name. But, when I had to read it in high school, I always had to read his bits out loud and then I understood what he was saying. Even if he was being the grumpiest of grumpies it always made me smile to twist my tongue into a brogue that is unnatural for me. And to understand it.
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πI’m pleased that you like them. My gran used to give me books of Yorkshire dialect to read when I was a kid. Sadly, I’ve lost them. The character in Wuthering Heights might have been Mr Lockwood the narrator.π
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No no. It was an older chap who worked for Heathcliff. I think he was only given a first name.
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Got it! Joseph!π
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Ah yes! That is he! π
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We got there eventually!
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Hilarious! π
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πThank you!
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Joseph yes – even I struggled with his dialect! And Iβm 100 percent Northern (I took the test). Another fine poem, Hobbo! ππ»ππ»ππ»
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πThank you Ingrid.π
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Well done, Sir PM.
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π Cheers!
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Okay dang I almost didnt need the translation until the last bits. Bacon fat on bread, my Dad used to love it on rye bread. This rant made me laugh! You gotta love older people.
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πThanks. Pleased that I made you laugh. Try the dripping bread. Trust me, it’s delicious!
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π Iβve tried it, yes tasty. However itβs a definite artery clogger. π«
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π I am impressed that you’ve tried it! Well done! You’re right though, it’s not very good for the old ticker!ππ
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Love it! And fun in translation as well. π
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I have a follower who thinks that the translations are funnier than the poems!ππ
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hehe… right!
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π
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Pingback: WINNER of the A Mused Poetry Contest 2/6/2021 | Chel Owens
These entries were laugh out loud funny. Enjoyed reading them all, and again a good choice of winner!ππ
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More! More! I laughed aloud that you included a translation. π π (Also, Hobbo, I think you need to copy and paste a different link when you post. I had a lot of trouble digging to find this.)
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πThanks Chel! Point re the link notedπ
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