CHAPTER XI
SOME CHARACTERISTIC YORKSHIRE SAYINGS
Kindly contributed by the Rev. M. C. F. MORRIS, B.C.L., M.A., Author of _Yorkshire Folk-Talk_.
There is a saying current among us in the East Riding that ‘it takes a Yorkshireman to talk Yorkshire’; the very form of the expression smacks of the county; and if this be true, as true it is, of the mere pronunciation of the dialect, it is no less true with regard to those other linguistic features—the idioms, phraseology, and way of putting things, which in this, as in every other folk-speech, go to a great extent to make up the vernacular. We might even advance a step beyond the statement just quoted, for by no means the majority even of those who have lived in the county all their lives can tongue the speech aright, and many not at all. It is far from uncommon to hear an accurate pronunciation of the dialect from the lips of those who are supposed to speak it well, and to find at the same time that the speaker wholly lacks an appreciation of those modes of thought, those turns and peculiarities of expression in which the Yorkshire dialect is peculiarly rich, and without which it sounds by comparison only tame and feeble. As between dog-Latin and the well-turned and polished, though often long-winded, sentences of Cicero, so is it in some sort between the two styles of dialectical Yorkshire to which I refer. The one grates upon the ear, while the other rings true. Over and above idiomatic usages strictly so called, there are many sayings more or less familiar which, though they cannot be brought under any rules of speech, like those of grammar, yet seem to possess a certain raciness all their own, and at the same time bring before us something of the Yorkshireman’s force and character. To some of these I will here direct attention, though it must be understood that what are here cited are but a few disconnected specimens of many more which might be given.
We are most of us, no doubt, aware that in all his dealings and matters of business the Yorkshireman is pre-eminently of a strongly practical turn of mind. We ‘reckon nowt’ of a man who is not that.
It would be untrue to say that sentiment is a state of mind absolutely unknown to his nature; but its presence is so rare, and its hold upon him so feeble, that it need hardly be taken into account in considering his character. There may, no doubt, be times when such feelings are brought into play, but the strange thing is that when we might most reasonably look for them, we look in vain.
Those attractive personal charms of the gentler sex which with ordinary mortals are generally supposed to have their effect at times when a young man is seeking a partner for life, weigh but little for the most part with the matter-of-fact Yorkshireman who regards his intended from a severely practical point of view. What, we may ask, would the sentimentalist of the highly strung poetical temperament think of this piece of advice which was once given to a youth at an interesting period of his life? ‘Leeak at a lass’s han’s when thoo’s laatin’ a weyfe; deean’t be daffled wiv ’er feeace!’ It was said in the olden days that the lass who churned ‘wi’ buckles on her shoon’ was to be lightly esteemed, but for sheer practicality the manual test could hardly be surpassed. I well remember, many years ago, the case of a man who was twice married. His first wife proved herself an excellent one in every way, and the couple lived happily together. When she died, and he proceeded to look out for a successor, his choice fell on one who also turned out a no less industrious and tidy woman, though her personal attractiveness was not of a specially pronounced character. On being asked by a neighbour what led him to make his selection in the way he did, he made answer to the effect that his sole reason for doing so was because his second wife’s ’carcase’ reminded him so strongly of that of his first; she was a lithe, active woman, and he thought, no doubt, that she looked like work.
Despite these purely utilitarian considerations in matters matrimonial, the saying we have heard that the ‘sweetness of a posy mainly hings on fra wheear yan gits it,’ indicates that some at least of our country-folk, under certain favouring conditions, can say pretty things, though it must be confessed such elegancies are few and far between. The ordinary village gossip who neglects her household duties for the sake of ‘having a crack’ with her neighbours, has from ‘prehistoric times,’ no doubt, come in for much plain-speaking, of which this may be given as an example: ‘T’ weyfe ’at can ho’d her au’d man up wi’ t’ news oot o’ t’ toon, meeastlins bakes bo’nt breead.’ Such wives as these are not the ones to pay much heed to principles of domestic economy. Nevertheless, considerations of this kind are as a rule carefully thought out by our country-folk, if not scientifically, at least in a way that makes a shilling go as far as possible. It may be said, indeed, speaking generally, that domestic affairs receive, on the part of the Yorkshire wife, an amount of attention that is highly commendable, and adds not a little to the happiness of the family, and in no part of England do the people understand the meaning of the word ‘comfort’ better than they do in Yorkshire.
Cleanliness is a virtue for which our people have long been conspicuous, though even here extremes will sometimes meet, and excessive scrupulousness in this respect will at times be something of a burden to the household rather than a joy.
It was once said of a ‘gudewife’ whose washings, scrubbings, polishings, and brushings were performed with more than ordinary frequency and vigour, ‘Sha scrats an’ tews fra morn whahl neet; sha werrits an’ natters an’ grummels t’ daay lang.... There’s neea comfort i’ t’ hoos; an’ ther nivver is wheear t’ kettle’s breet all ower.’
In days gone by it used to be said that a ’calling’ wife and a dusty spinning-wheel were commonly associated together, and the saying, ‘A mucky moos-trap shoots’ (shouts) ‘for t’ cat,’ was one of those standing rebukes to a slatternly _mater familias_ which is tellingly put, while the following doggerel might well find a place on the walls of every kitchen:—
A cobweb i’ t’ kitchen An’ feeat-marks on t’ step Finnd neea wood i’ t’ yewn An’ neea cooals i’ t’ skep.
No theme is more frequently harped upon by our old folks, when contrasting present manners and customs with those of a generation or two ago, than the change that has come over the community in the matter of dress, and there is a moral which they commonly draw therefrom. ‘There’s sadly owermich prahd noo,’ say they; while the money that many of the young people spend upon their dress passes the understanding of their elders, who in their younger days were content with fustian jackets and print gowns. It was said, for instance, by one who held that a hood was a suitable head-covering for a woman, that ‘she is a feeal ’at hugs a geease’ (i.e. the price of a goose) ‘on t’ top of her heead.’ In consequence of extravagancies of this nature, it is doubtful if, in spite of increased wages and cheapness of living, our farm lads and lasses save as much money as they did in the olden days. With corn at the high price it was, say, fifty years ago, the people were early inured to thrifty ways, and the absolute necessity for carefulness in all things was frequently insisted upon. Thus, for instance, a child would be told that ‘a beean thrawn away at t’ fore-end is a dinner lost at t’ back-end.’ Few of those living now would credit with what hard fare their grandfathers had often to be content, and yet the physique of the men which those times produced was probably not inferior, in point of endurance and capacity for work, to that at the present time.
Most of us, I dare say, remember the schoolgirl’s reply when asked to define scandal, namely, ‘When no one does nothing to nobody, and some one else goes and tells’; and although we cannot perhaps surpass even in Yorkshire that happy explanation of the term, yet we do own to certain sayings with reference to the unruly member, some of which may not be unworthy of being placed on record. There is one, for instance, which savours somewhat of the schoolgirl’s definition just mentioned, and there are probably many similar ones; it runs thus: ‘Them ’at says they deean’t leyke saayin’ nowt aboot nowt ti neeabody, meeastlins pass tahm by saayin’ summat aboot summat ti somebody.’
Again, the following rhyme aptly hits off what, it is to be feared, is a not altogether uncommon failing in Yorkshire as elsewhere:—
Them ’at says they weean’t, an’ diz it still, Dizn’t deea it when they saay they will.
We all know what to expect from a ‘slaap un’; he or she can never be depended on for anything. It was said of a female whose tongue could not be trusted, or, as we say in the East Riding, whom we could not ‘talk after’: ‘Ah reckon nowt o’ what sha says.... Praise frev a slaap tongue is nae better wo’th ’an rain i’ haay tahm.’
That the idler is ever ready to make excuses for his idleness, and that half the ‘loafers’ who infest the countryside are as capable of doing a day’s work as any one else in the community, we are well aware. We know, too, how any slight ailment is by many used as a plea for having an ‘off-day’; it is to such ‘ne’er-do-weels’ as these that the saying applies: ‘Yan’s nivver ower waak to wark when yan’s yabble ti bunch an au’d hat ower t’ green.’
It is remarkable how few of the well-known English proverbs are in common use among our country folk in the form in which they have been handed down to us. They are for the most part either supplanted by corresponding ones of more or less local growth or by extemporized expressions which do duty for the same and are of scarcely less force. Thus, for example, it was said of one who had been addicted to intemperate habits, and had at length given them up, but, alas! only to fall immediately into the wily snares of horse-racing and betting: ‘Ah deean’t think ’at he’s mended hissen mich: they saay ’at he’s signed t’ pledge, bud started ti hoss-race; t’ rabbit dizn’t fare na betther ’at ’scapes fra t’ fox an’ meets wi’ t’ rezzil.’
The well-worn saying that ‘prevention is better than cure,’ is one which none of us will care to gainsay, and we are for the most part minded so to word the truism; the ancient statement is, however, apt to take a different turn when uttered by Yorkshire lips. On one occasion a Yorkshireman remarked to another countryman, with reference to a certain fire in a house in the neighbourhood, ‘He sleck’d t’ fire oot afoor mich damage wer deean’; whereto the reply came, ‘’T may be clivver ti stop a bull, bud it’s wiser ti loup t’ yat.’
An instance is recorded, and we fear it is by no means a solitary one, of a certain would-be fine lady in one of our Yorkshire villages who dressed herself up in a manner singularly unbecoming for one in her station in life, and withal gave herself highly ridiculous airs. This kind of parade, as may be supposed, gave no little offence in certain quarters, while others of her sex, though not able or willing to adorn their persons to the same absurd degree of finery, were in no wise inferior in real worth to this flaunty and gaily bedecked female. As ‘my lady’ sailed down the ‘town street’ on one occasion, a critical observer of her ways was heard to remark, ‘Sha gans wiv her heead up as thoff yan wer nowt bud muck; bud Ah’ll tell ya what, Ah’s as good as sha is, if Ah’s nut sa weel putten on—black fleeace or white fleeace, t’ mutton’s t’ seeam.’ It would be difficult to say whether such a one were the more deserving of all the severe things that were heaped upon her or another of whom we have heard—Bessie by name. Her ‘pleeanin’’ ways were thus described: ‘It’s awlus ower fine or ower wet for oor Bessie, bud sum folks is that grum’ly, that they awlus ’ev a steean i’ ther shoon.’
The ordinary infirmities of the flesh are no doubt the inheritance of the Yorkshireman equally with the rest of mankind; we can claim for him no immunity from these. He is ‘hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means,’ even as others. Fools are perhaps rather less frequently met with in this than in some other counties, and if there is one bump more clearly developed upon the Yorkshireman’s cranium than another, it is that of caution. Those who happen to be deficient in that particular quality come in for no unfrequent reproofs and warnings from their more ‘gaumish’ fellows. Thus to one who was always being taken in by people of whom he knew nothing, this piece of advice was given: ‘Afoor yan claps a stthrange dog uppo t’ heead, yan s’u’d awlus leeak ’at it teeal;’ while of another, whose propensity to spend money was in excess of that usually found among those who dwell between the Humber and the Tees, it was said, ‘Aw deear, what a feeal he’s been! bud Ah’ve telled him mair ’an yance ’at money ta’en oot o’ t’ pocket’s mair ’an hauf spent.’ Again, we have a Yorkshireman’s equivalent of the brief injunction, ‘look before you leap,’ expressed as follows: ‘Nivver loup a stell widoot ya knaw what sooart of a footho’d you’ll leet on.’
To the same effect as the foregoing is a small bit of admonition that comes down to us from the days of the old tinder-box; and for lack of its due observance, many a small trouble has been experienced. The word of warning shapes itself thus: ‘Afoor yan flints tundther, knaw wheear t’ rush-leet is.’ A few old formulas of this kind may even still occasionally be heard. It was not long ago that I was told of one from the borders of Durham and Yorkshire which struck me as having an antiquated flavour, but yet, withal, one of a picturesque kind. The reason for its use was to reprove a child for displaying a certain greediness at table. It would sound strangely in modern ears to hear it said to a child in such a case: ‘Thoo’s ’greed wi’ sham an’ gi’en mense a grot’ (you have made an agreement with shame, and given decent behaviour a groat).
There is no little truth as well as force in the old expression which says, ‘Them ’at crack o’ thersens awlus to’n’ (turn) ‘oot blawn eggs’; and those who have risen in the world, especially if it be by questionable means, may well take a lesson from the saying, ‘Him ’at’s gitten ti t’ top o’ t’ stee, dhrops farest when he falls.’
In Yorkshire, as elsewhere, those who thus ‘crack o’ thersens,’ besides being unpopular with their fellows, are, generally speaking, more easily daunted than those who are not given to blow their own trumpets.
That was a truly good specimen of our dialectical usages which had reference to one who was in the habit of sounding his own praises in no measured terms. ‘Whya,’ said a countryman, who took a fairly accurate measure of this vain boaster’s ways, ‘Ah deean’t knaw; he’ll mebbe nut deea sa mich when all cums ti all; Ah’ve heeard folk saay ’at a bragger taks a lang stthrahd when t’ teeap’ (the ram) ‘grunds it heeaf’ (stamps the ground with its hoof).
The most trifling and homely incidents frequently give occasion to a Yorkshireman for bringing out some of his flashes of wit and raciness of expression. I remember not long ago hearing of a native of the North Riding who, one day in the fore-part of ‘sheep-clipping time,’ accompanied an old shepherd in order to have some sheep washed. They had to wait near the appointed place until another flock had gone through the well-known process of cleansing, and as they were whiling away the time, the vicar’s mother and sister drove by. Seeing what was going on, they pulled up and entered into conversation with the old shepherd, who, like every Yorkshireman, was a bit of a character. ‘We do so like the smell of sheep,’ they said; to which the old man replied, ‘Yis, mum, an’ seea deea Ah; bud Ah leykes t’ teeast on ’em betther!’
In the few examples I have here given, it will perhaps be seen how that the Yorkshireman has a way of expressing himself which seems to be peculiarly his own, and how his utterances generally strike a stranger by their originality and quaintness. Refreshing is it to hear these when spoken with all the naturalness and force with which some of the older folk tongue them. They come upon us like whiffs of sea air laden with ozone, which put new life into us and make us walk with a lighter step.
I will bring my short chapter to a close by a characteristic little story which forcibly illustrates how strong the Yorkshireman’s ruling passion—I mean, of course, his love of horseflesh—is in death.
I was told quite recently of a farmer who, at the time of the transaction to be related, was laid up with a dangerous illness; indeed, it proved to be his last. At this time he was possessed of a thoroughbred mare, which he was anxious to sell. A dealer in the neighbourhood had had his eye on the mare, and wanted at once to buy it. Accordingly he called on the farmer, and was shown into his bedroom. The bargain was not struck during the visit, though the difference between the two was only a matter of a sovereign or so.
A few days, however, after this interview, the dealer again presented himself at the house, not knowing that in the meantime the farmer had died. On entering the yard, the horse-dealer inquired of the man in the stables, how the master was. ‘Oh! he’s deead,’ said the man; ‘he deed last Tho’sda, bud afoor he deed he said ’at thoo was ti ’ev t’ meer!’