... Is a hobby website containing articles of local interest to Lancastrians, some favourite walking and cycling routes, selected words and poetry, and some writings of more general nature as well as the authors picture gallery, it can be accessed via the menu at the head of the page.
Aw've turned mi bit o' garden o'er,
An' set mi seed an' o;
Soa neaw aw've done, aw'll rest a bit, An' sit an' watch it grow.
It's noice to have a little spot, Wheer one con ceawr 'em deawn,
A quiet comfortable place, Eawtside o' th' busy teawn,
Wheer one can sit an' smoke the'r poipe, An' have a friendly chat,
Or read th' newspaper o'er a bit, Or talk abeawt Shurat;
Or listen to some owd mon's tale, Some vet'ran come fro' th' wars;
Aw loike to yer 'em spin the'r yarn, An' show the'r wounds an' scars.
One neet aw thowt aw'd tak' a walk
As far as th'Hunter's Teawr,
To beg a daisy root or two: Tom's gan me mony a fleawr.
They're bloomin' i' mi garden neaw, Aw've sich a bonny show;
Aw've daisies, pinks, carnations, too, An' pollyants an' o.
Yo' couldn't think heaw preawd aw feel, O' every plant an' fleawr;
Aw couldn't ha' cared for childer moor, Aw've nursed 'em mony a heawer.
But tho' they neaw look fresh an' fair, They'll droop the'r yeads an' dee;
They hanno lung to tarry here, They're just loike yo' an' me.
Dark-lookin' cleawds are gatherin' reawnd, Aw think it's beawn to rain;
Ther's nowt could pleos me better neaw, Aw should be rare an' fain!
Mi bit o' seed wants deggin' o'er, To help to mak' it spreawt;
It's summat loike a choild's first teeth, 'At wantin' helpin' eawt.
But aw'll be off, afore aw'm wet, It's getten reet agate;
An' while it comes aw think aw'll get A bit o' summat t'ate;
For oh, it is a hungry job, This warkin' eawt o' th'door;
Th'committee should alleaw for this, An' give one rayther moor.
Aw should so loike a good blow eawt,
A feed off beefsteak pie;
But aw can ne'er get nowt loike that Wi' th' bit aw draw, not I!
Aw'm glad enough o' porritch neaw, Or tothrey cold potates;
Iv aw can get enoo o' these, Aw'st do till th'factory gates.
It's welly gan o'er rainin', so Aw'll have another look,
An' see heaw th'garden's gettin' on: An' then aw'll get a book,
An' read an heawer or two for th'woife, An' sing a bit for Ted;
Then poo mi clogs off, fasten t'doors, An' walk upsteers to bed.
Samuel Laycock was born in Marsden West Yorkshire the son of a weaver. He moved to Stalybridge aged 9 and in later life to Blackpool for health reasons, where he died in 1893.