SOME CHARACTERISTIC YORKSHIRE SAYINGS
Kindly contributed by the Rev. M. C. F. MORRIS, B.C.L., M.A., Author
of _Yorkshire Folk-Talk_.
There is a saying current among us in the East Riding that ‘it takes
a Yorkshireman to talk Yorkshire’; the very form of the expression
smacks of the county; and if this be true, as true it is, of the
mere pronunciation of the dialect, it is no less true with regard to
those other linguistic features—the idioms, phraseology, and way of
putting things, which in this, as in every other folk-speech, go to a
great extent to make up the vernacular. We might even advance a step
beyond the statement just quoted, for by no means the majority even
of those who have lived in the county all their lives can tongue the
speech aright, and many not at all. It is far from uncommon to hear
an accurate pronunciation of the dialect from the lips of those who
are supposed to speak it well, and to find at the same time that the
speaker wholly lacks an appreciation of those modes of thought, those
turns and peculiarities of expression in which the Yorkshire dialect is
peculiarly rich, and without which it sounds by comparison only tame
and feeble. As between dog-Latin and the well-turned and polished,
though often long-winded, sentences of Cicero, so is it in some sort
between the two styles of dialectical Yorkshire to which I refer. The
one grates upon the ear, while the other rings true. Over and above
idiomatic usages strictly so called, there are many sayings more or
less familiar which, though they cannot be brought under any rules of
speech, like those of grammar, yet seem to possess a certain raciness
all their own, and at the same time bring before us something of the
Yorkshireman’s force and character. To some of these I will here direct
attention, though it must be understood that what are here cited are
but a few disconnected specimens of many more which might be given.
We are most of us, no doubt, aware that in all his dealings and matters
of business the Yorkshireman is pre-eminently of a strongly practical
turn of mind. We ‘reckon nowt’ of a man who is not that.
It would be untrue to say that sentiment is a state of mind absolutely
unknown to his nature; but its presence is so rare, and its hold upon
him so feeble, that it need hardly be taken into account in considering
his character. There may, no doubt, be times when such feelings are
brought into play, but the strange thing is that when we might most
reasonably look for them, we look in vain.
Those attractive personal charms of the gentler sex which with ordinary
mortals are generally supposed to have their effect at times when a
young man is seeking a partner for life, weigh but little for the most
part with the matter-of-fact Yorkshireman who regards his intended
from a severely practical point of view. What, we may ask, would the
sentimentalist of the highly strung poetical temperament think of this
piece of advice which was once given to a youth at an interesting
period of his life? ‘Leeak at a lass’s han’s when thoo’s laatin’ a
weyfe; deean’t be daffled wiv ’er feeace!’ It was said in the olden
days that the lass who churned ‘wi’ buckles on her shoon’ was to be
lightly esteemed, but for sheer practicality the manual test could
hardly be surpassed. I well remember, many years ago, the case of a man
who was twice married. His first wife proved herself an excellent one
in every way, and the couple lived happily together. When she died,
and he proceeded to look out for a successor, his choice fell on one
who also turned out a no less industrious and tidy woman, though her
personal attractiveness was not of a specially pronounced character. On
being asked by a neighbour what led him to make his selection in the
way he did, he made answer to the effect that his sole reason for doing
so was because his second wife’s ’carcase’ reminded him so strongly of
that of his first; she was a lithe, active woman, and he thought, no
doubt, that she looked like work.
Despite these purely utilitarian considerations in matters matrimonial,
the saying we have heard that the ‘sweetness of a posy mainly hings
on fra wheear yan gits it,’ indicates that some at least of our
country-folk, under certain favouring conditions, can say pretty
things, though it must be confessed such elegancies are few and far
between. The ordinary village gossip who neglects her household
duties for the sake of ‘having a crack’ with her neighbours, has from
‘prehistoric times,’ no doubt, come in for much plain-speaking, of
which this may be given as an example: ‘T’ weyfe ’at can ho’d her au’d
man up wi’ t’ news oot o’ t’ toon, meeastlins bakes bo’nt breead.’
Such wives as these are not the ones to pay much heed to principles of
domestic economy. Nevertheless, considerations of this kind are as a
rule carefully thought out by our country-folk, if not scientifically,
at least in a way that makes a shilling go as far as possible. It may
be said, indeed, speaking generally, that domestic affairs receive, on
the part of the Yorkshire wife, an amount of attention that is highly
commendable, and adds not a little to the happiness of the family, and
in no part of England do the people understand the meaning of the word
‘comfort’ better than they do in Yorkshire.
Cleanliness is a virtue for which our people have long been
conspicuous, though even here extremes will sometimes meet, and
excessive scrupulousness in this respect will at times be something of
a burden to the household rather than a joy.
It was once said of a ‘gudewife’ whose washings, scrubbings,
polishings, and brushings were performed with more than ordinary
frequency and vigour, ‘Sha scrats an’ tews fra morn whahl neet; sha
werrits an’ natters an’ grummels t’ daay lang.... There’s neea comfort
i’ t’ hoos; an’ ther nivver is wheear t’ kettle’s breet all ower.’
In days gone by it used to be said that a ’calling’ wife and a dusty
spinning-wheel were commonly associated together, and the saying,
‘A mucky moos-trap shoots’ (shouts) ‘for t’ cat,’ was one of those
standing rebukes to a slatternly _mater familias_ which is tellingly
put, while the following doggerel might well find a place on the walls
of every kitchen:—
A cobweb i’ t’ kitchen
An’ feeat-marks on t’ step
Finnd neea wood i’ t’ yewn
An’ neea cooals i’ t’ skep.
No theme is more frequently harped upon by our old folks, when
contrasting present manners and customs with those of a generation or
two ago, than the change that has come over the community in the matter
of dress, and there is a moral which they commonly draw therefrom.
‘There’s sadly owermich prahd noo,’ say they; while the money that many
of the young people spend upon their dress passes the understanding
of their elders, who in their younger days were content with fustian
jackets and print gowns. It was said, for instance, by one who held
that a hood was a suitable head-covering for a woman, that ‘she is a
feeal ’at hugs a geease’ (i.e. the price of a goose) ‘on t’ top of her
heead.’ In consequence of extravagancies of this nature, it is doubtful
if, in spite of increased wages and cheapness of living, our farm lads
and lasses save as much money as they did in the olden days. With corn
at the high price it was, say, fifty years ago, the people were early
inured to thrifty ways, and the absolute necessity for carefulness in
all things was frequently insisted upon. Thus, for instance, a child
would be told that ‘a beean thrawn away at t’ fore-end is a dinner lost
at t’ back-end.’ Few of those living now would credit with what hard
fare their grandfathers had often to be content, and yet the physique
of the men which those times produced was probably not inferior, in
point of endurance and capacity for work, to that at the present time.
Most of us, I dare say, remember the schoolgirl’s reply when asked
to define scandal, namely, ‘When no one does nothing to nobody, and
some one else goes and tells’; and although we cannot perhaps surpass
even in Yorkshire that happy explanation of the term, yet we do own to
certain sayings with reference to the unruly member, some of which may
not be unworthy of being placed on record. There is one, for instance,
which savours somewhat of the schoolgirl’s definition just mentioned,
and there are probably many similar ones; it runs thus: ‘Them ’at says
they deean’t leyke saayin’ nowt aboot nowt ti neeabody, meeastlins pass
tahm by saayin’ summat aboot summat ti somebody.’
Again, the following rhyme aptly hits off what, it is to be feared, is
a not altogether uncommon failing in Yorkshire as elsewhere:—
Them ’at says they weean’t, an’ diz it still,
Dizn’t deea it when they saay they will.
We all know what to expect from a ‘slaap un’; he or she can never be
depended on for anything. It was said of a female whose tongue could
not be trusted, or, as we say in the East Riding, whom we could not
‘talk after’: ‘Ah reckon nowt o’ what sha says.... Praise frev a slaap
tongue is nae better wo’th ’an rain i’ haay tahm.’
That the idler is ever ready to make excuses for his idleness, and that
half the ‘loafers’ who infest the countryside are as capable of doing
a day’s work as any one else in the community, we are well aware. We
know, too, how any slight ailment is by many used as a plea for having
an ‘off-day’; it is to such ‘ne’er-do-weels’ as these that the saying
applies: ‘Yan’s nivver ower waak to wark when yan’s yabble ti bunch an
au’d hat ower t’ green.’
It is remarkable how few of the well-known English proverbs are in
common use among our country folk in the form in which they have been
handed down to us. They are for the most part either supplanted by
corresponding ones of more or less local growth or by extemporized
expressions which do duty for the same and are of scarcely less
force. Thus, for example, it was said of one who had been addicted to
intemperate habits, and had at length given them up, but, alas! only to
fall immediately into the wily snares of horse-racing and betting: ‘Ah
deean’t think ’at he’s mended hissen mich: they saay ’at he’s signed t’
pledge, bud started ti hoss-race; t’ rabbit dizn’t fare na betther ’at
’scapes fra t’ fox an’ meets wi’ t’ rezzil.’
The well-worn saying that ‘prevention is better than cure,’ is one
which none of us will care to gainsay, and we are for the most part
minded so to word the truism; the ancient statement is, however, apt to
take a different turn when uttered by Yorkshire lips. On one occasion
a Yorkshireman remarked to another countryman, with reference to a
certain fire in a house in the neighbourhood, ‘He sleck’d t’ fire
oot afoor mich damage wer deean’; whereto the reply came, ‘’T may be
clivver ti stop a bull, bud it’s wiser ti loup t’ yat.’
An instance is recorded, and we fear it is by no means a solitary one,
of a certain would-be fine lady in one of our Yorkshire villages who
dressed herself up in a manner singularly unbecoming for one in her
station in life, and withal gave herself highly ridiculous airs. This
kind of parade, as may be supposed, gave no little offence in certain
quarters, while others of her sex, though not able or willing to adorn
their persons to the same absurd degree of finery, were in no wise
inferior in real worth to this flaunty and gaily bedecked female. As
‘my lady’ sailed down the ‘town street’ on one occasion, a critical
observer of her ways was heard to remark, ‘Sha gans wiv her heead up as
thoff yan wer nowt bud muck; bud Ah’ll tell ya what, Ah’s as good as
sha is, if Ah’s nut sa weel putten on—black fleeace or white fleeace,
t’ mutton’s t’ seeam.’ It would be difficult to say whether such a one
were the more deserving of all the severe things that were heaped upon
her or another of whom we have heard—Bessie by name. Her ‘pleeanin’’
ways were thus described: ‘It’s awlus ower fine or ower wet for oor
Bessie, bud sum folks is that grum’ly, that they awlus ’ev a steean i’
ther shoon.’
The ordinary infirmities of the flesh are no doubt the inheritance of
the Yorkshireman equally with the rest of mankind; we can claim for him
no immunity from these. He is ‘hurt with the same weapons, subject to
the same diseases, healed by the same means,’ even as others. Fools
are perhaps rather less frequently met with in this than in some other
counties, and if there is one bump more clearly developed upon the
Yorkshireman’s cranium than another, it is that of caution. Those
who happen to be deficient in that particular quality come in for no
unfrequent reproofs and warnings from their more ‘gaumish’ fellows.
Thus to one who was always being taken in by people of whom he knew
nothing, this piece of advice was given: ‘Afoor yan claps a stthrange
dog uppo t’ heead, yan s’u’d awlus leeak ’at it teeal;’ while of
another, whose propensity to spend money was in excess of that usually
found among those who dwell between the Humber and the Tees, it was
said, ‘Aw deear, what a feeal he’s been! bud Ah’ve telled him mair ’an
yance ’at money ta’en oot o’ t’ pocket’s mair ’an hauf spent.’ Again,
we have a Yorkshireman’s equivalent of the brief injunction, ‘look
before you leap,’ expressed as follows: ‘Nivver loup a stell widoot ya
knaw what sooart of a footho’d you’ll leet on.’
To the same effect as the foregoing is a small bit of admonition that
comes down to us from the days of the old tinder-box; and for lack of
its due observance, many a small trouble has been experienced. The
word of warning shapes itself thus: ‘Afoor yan flints tundther, knaw
wheear t’ rush-leet is.’ A few old formulas of this kind may even still
occasionally be heard. It was not long ago that I was told of one from
the borders of Durham and Yorkshire which struck me as having an
antiquated flavour, but yet, withal, one of a picturesque kind. The
reason for its use was to reprove a child for displaying a certain
greediness at table. It would sound strangely in modern ears to hear
it said to a child in such a case: ‘Thoo’s ’greed wi’ sham an’ gi’en
mense a grot’ (you have made an agreement with shame, and given decent
behaviour a groat).
There is no little truth as well as force in the old expression which
says, ‘Them ’at crack o’ thersens awlus to’n’ (turn) ‘oot blawn
eggs’; and those who have risen in the world, especially if it be by
questionable means, may well take a lesson from the saying, ‘Him ’at’s
gitten ti t’ top o’ t’ stee, dhrops farest when he falls.’
In Yorkshire, as elsewhere, those who thus ‘crack o’ thersens,’ besides
being unpopular with their fellows, are, generally speaking, more
easily daunted than those who are not given to blow their own trumpets.
That was a truly good specimen of our dialectical usages which had
reference to one who was in the habit of sounding his own praises in no
measured terms. ‘Whya,’ said a countryman, who took a fairly accurate
measure of this vain boaster’s ways, ‘Ah deean’t knaw; he’ll mebbe nut
deea sa mich when all cums ti all; Ah’ve heeard folk saay ’at a bragger
taks a lang stthrahd when t’ teeap’ (the ram) ‘grunds it heeaf’ (stamps
the ground with its hoof).
The most trifling and homely incidents frequently give occasion to a
Yorkshireman for bringing out some of his flashes of wit and raciness
of expression. I remember not long ago hearing of a native of the
North Riding who, one day in the fore-part of ‘sheep-clipping time,’
accompanied an old shepherd in order to have some sheep washed. They
had to wait near the appointed place until another flock had gone
through the well-known process of cleansing, and as they were whiling
away the time, the vicar’s mother and sister drove by. Seeing what
was going on, they pulled up and entered into conversation with the
old shepherd, who, like every Yorkshireman, was a bit of a character.
‘We do so like the smell of sheep,’ they said; to which the old man
replied, ‘Yis, mum, an’ seea deea Ah; bud Ah leykes t’ teeast on ’em
betther!’
In the few examples I have here given, it will perhaps be seen how that
the Yorkshireman has a way of expressing himself which seems to be
peculiarly his own, and how his utterances generally strike a stranger
by their originality and quaintness. Refreshing is it to hear these
when spoken with all the naturalness and force with which some of the
older folk tongue them. They come upon us like whiffs of sea air laden
with ozone, which put new life into us and make us walk with a lighter
step.
I will bring my short chapter to a close by a characteristic little
story which forcibly illustrates how strong the Yorkshireman’s ruling
passion—I mean, of course, his love of horseflesh—is in death.
I was told quite recently of a farmer who, at the time of the
transaction to be related, was laid up with a dangerous illness;
indeed, it proved to be his last. At this time he was possessed of
a thoroughbred mare, which he was anxious to sell. A dealer in the
neighbourhood had had his eye on the mare, and wanted at once to
buy it. Accordingly he called on the farmer, and was shown into his
bedroom. The bargain was not struck during the visit, though the
difference between the two was only a matter of a sovereign or so.
A few days, however, after this interview, the dealer again presented
himself at the house, not knowing that in the meantime the farmer had
died. On entering the yard, the horse-dealer inquired of the man in the
stables, how the master was. ‘Oh! he’s deead,’ said the man; ‘he deed
last Tho’sda, bud afoor he deed he said ’at thoo was ti ’ev t’ meer!’