Yorkshire poem in Yorkshire language

Some people might not know that people in Yorkshire have their own language. Most of it is from the Viking, Saxon or Celtic languages combined. Being up't North like.

A Yorkshire Pudding Poem in Yorkshire!!!!!!

Eh waiter, excuse me a minute
I'm not findin' fault, but dear me
'taties is lovely and beef is alreit
But what sort of pudding can this be?

It's what? Yorkshire Puddin'? Now cum cum cum cum
It's Yorkshire Puddin' yer say?
I'll grant yer it's some sort o' puddin', owd lad
But not THE Yorkshire Puddin', nay, nay.

Now reit Yorkshire Puddin's a poem in batter,
T'mek it's an art, not a trade
So just listen t' me and I'll tell t' thee
How t' first Yorkshire puddin' were made

A young angel wi day off from 'eaven,
Were flyin' abaht Ilkla Moor,
When t' angel, poor thing, got cramp in a wing
An' cum down at an owd women's door
.
T' owd woman said "Eee - it's an angel.
By 'eck, I'm fair capped to see thee.
I've noan seen yan afore - but tha's welcome,
Come on in, an' I'll mash thi some tea."

T' angel said, "By gum, thank you kindly."
Though she only supped one mug o' tea,
She et two drippin' slices and one Sally Lunn.
Angel's eat very lightly yer see.

Then t'owd woman looked at clock sayin'
"Ey up, t'owd feller's back soon from t'mill.
You gerron wi' yer tea, but please excuse me,
As I'll atter mek puddin' fer Bill."

Then t' angel jumped up and said gie us it 'ere,
Flour, water, eggs, salt an' all,
An' I'll show thee 'ow we meks puddins,
Up in 'eaven for Saints Peter and Paul.

So t' angel took bowl and stuck a wing in,
Stirring it round, whispering "Hush"
An' she tenderly ticked at t'mixture,
Like an artist ed paint wi a brush.

Then t'owd woman asked " 'ere wor is it then,
T'secret o' puddins made up above?"
"It's nowt i' flour or watta, said t'angel,
"Just mek sure that tha meks it wi' luv."

When it were done , she popped it i' t'oven,
"Gie it nobbut ten minutes", she said.
Then off t'angel flew, leavin' first Yorkshire Puddin',
That ivver were properly med.

An' that why it melts in yer gob just like snow.
An' as light as a maiden's first kiss,
An' as soft as the fluff on t'breast of a puff.
Not ELEPHANT'S LEATHER like this.

Re: Yorkshire poem in Yorkshire language

Beautiful just beautiful took me back some years I can tell thee reading that.

"She et two drippin' slices and one Sally Lunn"
God I miss fat and bread which we has kids lived on and I always remember me mam filling up me bait box with it when I worked at Cargo Fleet Steelworks. We always used to try and get to the bottom of that cracked old mug full with beef dripping to get the jelly bits mmmm I suppose it would be deemed bad for your health these days..
Yes mushy peas/black pudding/saveloys I miss em all what a meal I could have if we still had proper food..

Thanks BE for the memory's..

Re: Yorkshire poem in Yorkshire language

Sandy darlin' - many years ago there was a pub in the middle of Huddersfield that served 'yorkshire pudding sandwiches. A 12" dinner plate, the pudding was the same size as the plate, on top was roast beef and gravy, then a second yorkshire pudding was laid on top, the whole lot was then smothered in chips. Even I struggled to finish it, notwithstanding my enormous appetite.

Re: Yorkshire poem in Yorkshire language

I do love yorkshire puddin'

Re: Yorkshire poem in Yorkshire language

Lovely

Re: Yorkshire poem in Yorkshire language

Longfellow we used to eat drippin an't bread too. My Mum said it put hairs on your chest. Being a lass I wasn't reet happy bout that

UJ you surprised me not being able to eat two 12!" Yorkshires lol

So do I Patsy, I hope you make them with Luv???

Re: Yorkshire poem in Yorkshire language

Well - I cannot lie ....... 'Aunt Bessie' does it for me, the big uns !

Re: Yorkshire poem in Yorkshire language

Sandy darlin' - it wasn't that I was unable to finish it all, but that I struggled to and was 'full up' for several hours afterwards.

Re: Yorkshire poem in Yorkshire language

Oooooh, I love Yorkshire puds prefer my own but Aunt Bessies are ok.

Re: Yorkshire poem in Yorkshire language

Mushy peas. black pudding and dripping I know about and have enjoyed - but what on earth is a saveloy ?