Alan Nettleton

Two of my poems written in our sweet sweet shibboleth, and one about my final year of education at “The terrace” which was an annex of Northcliffe in the seventies,,,, ( which I dedicate to Neil Fitzgerald; my very own “Owbiwan Kanobi”)

“- Mi fatha -“

Mi fatha wer a miner,

a big owd man wer ee,

wi an eart so bold it wer solid gold

en that wer plain te see,

al si thee yung un he wud sey

as off te pit eed trot,

mi mam ed never know if eed be

cumin bak or not.

darn denaby pit e wud gu

a dank en dusky hole,

twer not much gud fer a man like im

ee wer´nt a bloody mole!,

bak brekin werk wer hewin coyel

en freekinin dark en all,

en colliers werst neetmare

wer wen th roof ed fall,

trapt darn pits n´ha way tu dee

en that ah´m tellin thee,

tis gud advice tu stop up top

ah´l tell thee that fer free,

ah´l allus remember copper

e cem a knocking

mi mam she fear´d werst

wen ah´la sudden

a flooda tears did berst,

n´ha th pit ed got mi fatha

ee we´nt cumin om at all

twer th coliers werst neetmare

th roof.. ed ad.. a fall.

Alan nettleton.

“- Arr lass -“

Arr lass in´t no mona lisa

she´s no venus de milo en all,

she in´t a pretty picture

en she´s th size e th albert hall,

er language is streit frum sewer

en er odour is gud n ripe,

er breaths frum th devils *ole

cos she smokes a bloody pipe,

she´s gora gret big beer gut en she sez

thers nowt like e pub crawl,

she´s got no airs n grace´s

en she luvs e scrappy brawl,

bur I luv that gret big fat cow

th lass I call mi wife,

she´s mi ert n soul mi every thing

for er ad give mi life,

she´s gid mi ten little nippers

who keep mi on mi feet,

en if she wer te leave mi

mi life wud be incomplete.

alan nettleton.

“- Yesterday -“

We bound young wolves

with a palette of grey;

shackled a snowflake

in white,

we manacled the sun

unto the day;

tethered the moon

– to a night.

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