(In memory of John Heyes)

I' Billinge lung ago 'tis sed

One nice breet summer neet

Some folk a gooin' fer a walk

Font an alarm clock theer int' street

 

Nay noan 'ad sin a clock afoor

Ter them a wondrous think

Ter 'ear I' tickin' laid an' clear

Wi' nay an' then a ring

They confabbed theer among thersel's

To see what they should do

"Send fer owd Roby" some'dy said

"'E knows a thing er two"

 

Nay Roby who wuz th' owdest mon

Cum leanin' on 'is stick

And scrat 'is yed an' looked perplexed

Sed "fotch a 'ommer quick"

They fotch'd 'im th' ommer an' wi' a swing

'E smashed it dane ont' clock

An art shot awt wheels an' springs

It gie um a gradely shock

It seemt ter them like livin' things

As they awreaund wi' speed

"Nay kill um quick" owd Roby shates

"Afoor thi've chance fert breed"