Benny Wilkinson

Poems by Benny Wilkinson


Ah saw a mouse sat on some muck
On open ground he chanced his luck
Hi lucked en owd ‘un, whiskas White
En didn’t budge from ray of light.
Hi rubbed his noo’as en lucked et me
En spoke es human, yes! did he
Dun’t be freetened,” he just sed.
” Am nowt burr a mouse, en mi name is Fred.”

Ah lucked around en up en darn gate,
Maybe a trick from sum werkmate.
No trace or sign or running tread.
Just me and lamp -en pit mouse Fred.
On back legs stood, he neatly bowed,
Sez Fred: “Owd cock, Am gerrin owd,
Mi legs ev gone! Am skin en boo’an
En that last fall es wrecked mi hoo’am.

” Av watched me kids feight over bread,
Lost em all, enough sed.
Lived in man-oils, coal and rock,
Always flit tin, mi owd cock.
Followed yore in search 0′ grub,
Lost hafe me tail thru a runaway tub.
Laft at yore when yer’ve tried to tees
Mi frum mi oil wi a lump a chee’as.

Av’dodged them stoo’ans, thrown bi yore,
Clammed fer snap wi mates galore.
Lost mi missus -poor owd lass!
Just pegged art -too much gas.
Mi eye sight’s gone en am none too sharp.
Es fer pinchin snap, av just lost art.
Nah fer mi matin’, av lost mi zest
may es well admit it: am just a pest!

“Du me a faver -it’s not a sin
Tek me up pit in thy snap tin.
Am redy for goo ‘in, mi time is near,
Dun let me dee en bi buried darn heeah.”
Ar picked im up gently but ar new hi were dead,
So ar tuk im in pit, mi pit mouse Fred.
Ar placed im in’t garden, mid rose bush ser nete,
En ar rote on his gravestoo’an:
“Hi never saw dayleete.”

Ar Billy

Ar wish ar wor ar BILLY, -cos ar BILLY’S nearly ten

His gorra bag er marbles -en his gorra dog naimed Ben

Nar am not erloud tu play wi em -ar dar’nt gu throo bak gate

Cos mi mam ses am just sevon -bur am not am nearly eight.

Eee -ar sumtimes hate ar BILLY -his pinched mi trolley, tha knows

His gon en brok main wheel off -en God knows ar it goes

Hi sed it wer like it wen hi tuk it -bur it all’us went dead straight

But wot can yer se -wen yer seven -en am sure am nearly eight.

Ar wish ar wer ar BILLY -his full er fun en wit

His er grate shot wi er catapult -why av see’an him hit a nit

His all’us mekin fires int baks -en, at schoo’il his all’us late

Bur am sup’ooased tu bi on time -by, ar wish thet ar wer eight.

Ar BILLY draws bare women -ont bak et lavertry doo’er

En hi draws sum funny shapes er blokes -on mi granny’s bedroo’m floo’er

Ad luv tu draw bare lasses -oh ar know it wud bi grate

Bur ar ca’nt cos am just seven -eee ar wish thet ar wer eight.

Ar wish ar wer ar BILLY -his aloud tu pick his noo’as

En hi rubs wor hi pulls darn it on uther peoples cloo’as

But wen ar start tu pick mi noo’as -it’s er crack frum mam full weight

Its becos am on’y seven -000 ar wish thet ar wer eight.

Ar BILLY kisses lasses -at bak et dustbin oil

En hi all ‘us likes tu knock things off -like spice en pop en coyil

Ad luv tu kiss sum lasses -en pinch sum coyil fot grate

But its reight am on’y seven -En am sure al get tu eight.

Ar BILLY’S all’us ferst int bath -hi all’us likes tu win

Wen hi gets art, en ar ger in -thes er lot moo’er watter in

But one day ar will lick hi’m -Hill bi just that bit tu late

Bur it ca’nt bi warl am seven -it’al bi wen ar reach eight.

Ar BILLY’S very lucky -thet mi muther hed him ferst

Cos er gypsy towd mi muther -thet or ferst wud be the werst

Bur age es gor its compensashun -en ar BILLY’S just oreight

En just think, wen his one hundred -well arl bi nine’ty eight.

Denaby Neetmares Us Mexboroigh lads were allus taught to watch ah pee’s an queues en niver gu through Denaby unless wi went in two’s them wurds wer frum mi Fatha en the made mi blood run cowd dunt mess abart et Denaby ses he or thall not grow very owd Keep away and dunt gu near they’ll mek mince meat ah’ta thee why, they’ll eight thi for their tea ah used to wek up on a nete wi neetmares of that place en what they’d do to poor owd me cos a wer’t a Denaby face Ah kept well away, ah used mi loaf tu bi fair, well ah war scared av never bin a feightin man en tu their ways, not prepared et crossing gates ah used to luk et that land of feighten men en yearned tu wunder h’over thia en just bi one of them. E then wen ar grew up a bit payed a visit tu that tuff town on’t trackless rode wi heart in mouth en ptrayed it wunt break darn ah lucked thru winda worried stiff et the streets, en Pubs and ashops en folk who (well) just lucked like me but ah got scared at the stops An then bi God it happened the bloody thing brok down en thea war mi, a Mexborough lad et the mercy of that town ar got of trackless artside Drum mi face wer as white us snow a gang o lads kem up tu me en waited for furst blow What’s up owd cock sed biggest one tha dun’t luk well tu me ah prayed hi wudn’t ask mi wee’ar wer frum ah wer sure ah wer goo’in to dee cum in’t Drum en ev a pint it’ll put thee on thi feet tha’ll ev a laff in the’a owd cock dunt tha know its Seturdee Neat The wer blokes in thee’a wi colly flower ears en sum es broad es doo’as the wer sum jus singisongs of owd en sum in fancy cloo’as ah stud thee’a shekin from hee’ad to fut en in panic did rush for the doo’a en then a big bloke collared me e ses tha’s just trud on mi too’a Hi picked mi up like sum rag Doll en ar thort – this es it fer mi put him darn, ses a voice in Denaby slang or tha can try thi luk wi me finish thi pint ses owd cock his manna did quell mi fear he’s a Mexbro’ bloke, thats just ed thee but his just ad too much beer Well that nete ah learnt mi lesson en a new mi father were rong for Denaby folk er just like us en a pleasure to be among na yer musnt tek em for granted for its true there feighten men but al tel thi this, tha’ll tek no harm if tha behaves thi sen


(Let it be printed!)

May thy sleep be tranquil -‘ pit Denaby Main’

thy workings exhausted – of their jewels of coal

to earths surface have risen – from thy black subterranean

bright were their fires – spreading warmth to thy soul

Nofelonious´ly taken, where thy sustenance gems

through poverty – hands honest- minded insheer misery

and there need forced intrusion – deemed sad Requiems

man and boy claimed -two hundred and three

In thy Silent Chambers – now lost for all time

speak thy soliloquy – unheard through thy seal

of brave souls – brotherhood – hardship and grime

thy spot shall be marked – with their lifeline the wheel

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