Lyr Add: Th' Borth E Th' Lad

Subject: Th' Borth E Th' Lad
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 15 Apr 02 - 11:17 AM

Th' Borth E Th' Lad

Aw'll de me best to please ye, en th' best cin de ne mair,
Aw's gan te sing eboot messel—wen aw wis born, en wair;
Aw wis born at Shotley, aw've ard me muther sae,
Twas in th' munth iv August, en on th' fifteenth dae.

Spoken- Aw cin mind that mornen aw wis born is if it wis th' neet. Th' pits wis aul idle th' next dae-because it was Sunda;
But ye wadn't thout it wis  Sunda' it wor hoose, thor wis that much tee en gingor beer drunken aw wis forst te stop th' tap.  Dolly Pots got tite en flung a saucer it Betty  Green, but it mist hor en catcht me between th' ies en mooth, en aw've ad a greet lump thare ivor since. But we seun muaid hor en ootside passengor, en we ingoid worselves we singen-

Chorus:

He is th' best if ony,
For his fuaice it is se bonny,
We'll caul 'im Tommy,
Hees th' pictor iv hees dad;
So th' popt on th' kettil.
Is seun is things wis settled,
En th' tee wis fettled.
Ower th' borth e th' lad.

Aw mind it was warm wethor wen thae receev'd this lad,
Me fethor danc'd th' flor te show thit he wis glad;
Me muthor she lae, smilen, en cauld me be nuaim,
She sais God bless the little heart, aw's plees'd thoo's landed yem.

Spoken—Ye naw thae expected me three munth before that (aw's e twelve munth bairn- but ye can see that be me size) That wis th' forst time aw seed Betty Lee, th' mid-wife.  She tuek me up en lade me ecross hor nee, en saaid te me muthor. Aw think aw'll wesh im.  Aw thowt she sade. A think aw'll thresh im—aw teuk hor up rang. If she'd lad e finger on me aw wid guain strite back to wair aw com freh. Aw gad e gud wesh en e nue sute on, en we started te sing.

Chorus

Th' neibors com te brickfast, this nue-born bairn te see,
Mistres Wite gat mortal drunk we drinken Stewart's tee;
Miss Watson wis religyis, en so wis Mistris Kae,
En is seun is deun we brickfast, th'
 Buaith nelt doot te prae.

Spoken- Th' brickfast wis' ardly ower te thae doon on te thor nees en began te prae it th' top e thor voise.  Is seun is thae startid to prae, aw started te sing. Johnny cums marchin hoam. It wis a great favorite  e mine at that time.  Nan Watson shooted tive aud Betty Lee th' mid-wife, Stop that child from crien, or I must cease praying; and Betty shoots, Get ewae wi thou: th' bairn's not cryen- hee's singen th' bairn naws is weel is me thoo's prayen  e cheet, so thoo'd better get on te thee feet en sing esteed e prayen.

Chorus

My word, said Mistris Robson is she lade me on hor airm.
If aul me time aw nivor met we such  t witey bairn.
Th' doctor just had landed, so aw sees'd im be th' cote.
But littl wair thae thinking thit th' bairn wis e pote.

Spoken- Is seun is ivor th'doctor com within th' door  aw grab'd im be th' neck, en aw didn't forget to shaik im; but ye naw aw wis e vary big lad wen aw wis vary littil.  Aw axt 'im hoo he wid like to stop in prison three month eftor hees time wis up but we seun gat aul reet-en me fethor wissil'd Betty en th' doctor danc'd to cloasen time. Aw wis sair we laffin, so we finish'd  we singen-

Chorus
One Good Source:Polisses & Candymen, The Complete Works of Tommy Armstrong, The Pitman Poet,  ed. Ross Forbes, TommyArmstrong Memorial Trust, 1987.