Granddad’s Legacy

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Granddad's Legacy

Me granddad were never sartorial
He was, to be honest, a scruff
Who frittered away most of his money
On tobacco and 'osses and stuff.

He always wore same 'orrid cardy
A monstrosity med out o' cotton
Dirty and threadbare and smelly
This manky old thing were quite rotten.

When younger, he worked down the jam mines
Blasting out strawb'rries and plums
Then he'd slope off to 'pub wi' his whippet
And neck a few beers wi' his chums.

He kept 'issen fit fer a pensioner
Only five days a week on the sick
And even well into his eighties
He could sprint hundred yards wi' his stick.

The old man just med it to hundred
Then curled up his toes and he died
I 'ad to break news to our granny
Who I swear, on my life, nearly cried.

He was given a good send off by Co-Op
Folk travelled from near and from far
They wheeled 'im to church in a barrer
Which saved the expense of a car.

For 'reading of 'will, we all gathered
Tension, it were ramped up a notch
Gran got his pigeons and slippers
And dad 'is retirement watch.

Granddad 'ad not forgot me though
In a carefully weaved codicil
He left me his stinky old cardy
And that's all I got from 'is will.

Now, if this were a fairy type story
Tha' would treasure the cardy, not knock it
Tha'd search through the garment for money
And tha'd find summat grand in the pocket.

Well, I did that, I searched it for goodies
But the pockets were as empty as sin
So I rolled the thing up in a bundle
And left it outside for the bin.

Me mum said, "Tha' can't leave it there lad
What will folk say, get a grip.
Anyway, this week's recycling
Tha'll 'ave to tek thing to the tip".

I set off to 'tip on me pushbike
Pedals went round 'ell fer leather
Got there and then 'eavens opened
Typical wet British weather.

I'm just going to chuck granddad's cardy
When a dainty young thing caught me eye
Deirdrie, the tip's supervisor
Says, "Come 'ere lad, and keep thissen dry".

Pretty soon, we found ourselves chatting
Things come to a head, as they say
Before I had time to say granddad
I'm saying to her, name the day.

My fiance were a real beauty
Wi' her dimples and pimples and spots
And a rash spread all ovver her body
I spent many hours joining the dots.

We were wed in 'same church as me granddad
She, ten minutes late, not too tardy
With me wearing, you'll nivver guess it
A smart three piece suit, not that cardy.

Osses: Horses
Cardy: Cardigan
Issen: Himself
Barrer: Barrow
Thissen: Yourself

Wi': With

Where there’s a will

I love writing these monologues, because they tell a funny story, but in verse form. They work best if read aloud in a broad Yorkshire accent, but if you can’t do that, they should still make you laugh. This is one of the first ones that I ever wrote.

Photo by Frans Van Heerden on Pexels.com
You'll have heard of Albert and 'lion
At the zoo, how he poked in its ear
With 'is stick with its 'orses 'ead 'andle
And 'ow 'lion made 'lad disappear.

It was penned by one Marriott Edgar
Not sure that it's totally true
A British tradition the monologue
For telling a tall tale or two.

This then, is the story of Doris
A frail little lady from 'ull
And Joseph, her fisherman 'usband
'Andsome when younger, but dull.

When Doris met Joe in her twenties
She thought him 'a bit of a dish'
But since working away on the trawlers
All he could talk of was fish.

Sadly, Joe passed away in the Autumn
They'd been married for fifty six years
Though she'd not miss his moods, or his washing
She managed to shed a few tears.

He'd left her no money or nothing
Joe was 'ardly a millionaire
And Doris had toasted their parting
With a small glass of vin ordinaire.

What he had left her though, were a parrot
Called Polly, an African Grey
This parrot could swear like a sailor
Vocab'lary badly astray.

The bird was some comp'ny for Doris
They'd sit and they'd have a good chat
Until Doris developed arthur-itis
And the council coughed up wi' a flat.

"No pets," council lady insisted
Handing 'keys to her new maisonette
'Where there's a will, there's a way' though
So t'old lady were not too upset.

She covered Poll's cage in a blanket
And smuggled her into the flat
What with gas central 'eating and carpets
Doris treasured 'er new 'abitat.

Old 'abits die 'ard with a parrot
Who soon took to swearing again
When 'neighbours began to ask questions
Doris guessed, they were going to complain.

But, at just passed three in the morning
Doris fell out of bed, on t'floor
"Get up, get up," Poll' was squawking
As smoke trickled through 'bedroom door,

Doris weren't a girl given to panic
(The parrot were 'ighly impressed)
Pulling clothes quickly over her nightie
She rushed from the flat, barely dressed.

She managed to wake all her neighbours
The firemen brought cheering throughout
But standing there, bird cage a danglin'
Doris knew that her secret were out.

The fire had been caused by her cooker.
Commented senior fireman, Paul
"Thanks to Doris's lightening reactions
The extent of the damage is small."

The neighbours rolled up their shirt sleeves
As the clean up immediately began
Elbow grease, and Fairy, (original)
Soon had Doris's flat spic and span.

Poor Doris was all of a dither
When 'council called later that day
"I'll see what I can do," said the lady
"Because, where there's a will, there's a way."

Guide dogs are let in by the council
From the rules, they are simply excluded
Whilst a dog for a dis-abled person
Is allowed, and expressly included.

These pooches are called 'elper canines
Doris still has her pet, to this day
It is 'ull's very first 'elper parrot
Because, "Where there's a will, there's a way."



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