Allus Tummlin’ I’ Summat Poem by C Richard Miles

Allus Tummlin’ I’ Summat



When ah wor a lad, wi’d go-a laik i’t’ beck
An’ tho’ mi mam sed ah’d catch it i’t’ neck
If ah ivver went in ower dee-ap an’ got wet,
Ah’d allus end up i’t’ watter, tha mun bet.

Us kid wor a naingel an’ did as ’e wor towd;
’E warn’t as daft so as ter fetch up dowsed and cawd,
Bu’ ’e allus egged mi on as ah fettled up a dam
’Cos ’e reckoned ’e knew wot a wassock ah am.

An’ appen ah wor, bu’ ah nivver ivver thowt
Ah’d goo-a ower far; it wor nobbut owt or nowt
Wor that tidgy beck, nobbut hawf a foo-it
Nert hawf wee-a up on mi gurt wellie boo-it.

Bu’ ah’d allus happen on a waffly stoo-an;
It wor allus its fowt an’ nivver mi oan
An’ us kid’d gurn, an’ call mi a drip
When ah tummelled in, arse ovver tip.

An’ ah’d promised mi mam, ’cos it cost a fair whack
Fer mi kegs an’ mi gansey an’ mi coit on mi back
’At ah’d try ter stee-a dry, and keyp aht o’t’ beck
Bu’ did that ivver stop mi? Naw, did it ’eck.

So shi’d tan me on’t backside an’ send mi ter bed
’Cos ah’d went an’ forgetten t’ words ’at shi’d sed
An’ ah promised missen ’at ah’d allus think on
An’ try keyp aht o’t’ blummin’ beck-oil fra’ nah on.

So, ah kept aht o’t’ beck-oil an’ went up ter t’farm
Whee-ar ah clammered up on ter t’ top o’ t’ barn
’At wor next ter t’shippon, while, trust mi luck,
Ah tummelled off t’roo-if i’ a gurt hee-ap o’ muck.

Ah wor a’ clarted up, reight ter t’ top o’ mi hee-ad
Ah felt sich a foo-il, ah wisht ah wor dee-ad
Tho’ ah’d dun wot mi mam sed an’ kept aht o’t’ beck
Ah’d sartainly catch it, appen shi’d brek mi neck.

Ah traipsed mi wee-a whoam; ah wor noa roo-ad at all.
Tho’ t’ hee-ap o’ manure ’ad brokken mi fall,
Ah wor thankful ’at ah ’adn’t brokken mi neck
Bu’ wor it onny better ner tummlin’ i’t’ beck?

Mi mam, shi went crackers an’ caud mi a clown
As shi fetched aht us hoo-asepipe ter wesh missen down
Ah wor wetter ner ivver an’ shi wor fair vexed;
It wor war ner t’occasions ah’d tummelled i’t’ beck.

Shi tellt mi ah wor banned fra’ goin’ ter laik
I’t’ beck-oil or t’farm-yed fer ’er sanity’s sake,
So ah took up wi’ foo-itball, wot warn’t mich good
As wer pitches wor allus a midden o’ mud.

Bu’ ah’m nert a’ that daft, an’ ter keep missen clee-an,
Sin us barns wor sich a tarrible tee-am,
As goo-alie, ah nivver wad dive for owt
An’ nobody’d notice, or so-a ah thowt.

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