Me Dad
(In memory of John Heyes)
Yo can aw 'ave yer 'eroes, an' men o' great fame
Who's exploits an' deeds. Moost scholars con name
But in aw t'books o' 'eroes, ah read as a lad
One mon were atestandin', an ee wer mi dad
Altho' bi profession, ee'd done quite a bit
Frer farm hond, glasswerker, an' lastly dane t' pit
'is knowledge o' t' country, id leave thi quite pale
Na' no mon could touch 'im wi' t'ommer an' a nail.
'Is hen cote in t'backyerd were a marvel to th' een
Tho' ee ne'er 'ad no blueprint. It ed fert bi seen
Mam id send us t'yard fert gi' 'im a hond
But tha hed tp watch ate, weer tha could stond
A few seconds later, ee'd snatch th' ommer back
An' if tha should sey owt, id gi thi a crack
An' us needluss tackle id stond like a foo'
Ah thowt ee'd ah made a rare master dane skoo'
If a cut er a sprain it met 'appen tha geet
Mi dad'd own owd remedies, id soon mak it reet
Nay nipbone an' iodine were aw that ee 'ad
'T were enough wen ee used um ter drive us fair mad
But one thing ee learnt us, abate reet an' rung
An' although nay an' then, wid geet rough eend o't'tung
Ee meant it quite wisely, an ah wish that ah 'ad
Took moor notice o'wot, ah were towd bi mi dad.
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