Lancashire Songs — A Reader’s Guide

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Authors: Waugh, Edwin, 1817-1890 Digital Source: Project Gutenberg Gutenberg Release Year: 2017 First Publication Year: Not confirmed

Key Word: English poetry -- 19th century; Dialect poetry, English -- England -- Lancashire Target Reader: Readers of public-domain and historical texts

Book Edition: Project Gutenberg digital edition Book Language: en

Edition facts

Words 12,250

Reading time 54 min

Text sections 26

For Lancashire Songs — A Reader’s Guide, the stored edition analysis reports 12,250 words, 54 min estimated reading time, and 26 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 29.0 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “English poetry -- 19th century,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

Source: Project Gutenberg record #55921

Edwin Waugh's 1866 collection of Lancashire dialect poems, with songs of home, love, and rural life, marked by a distinct regional voice and shifts between tender domestic scenes and lively folk narratives.

Editorial Edition Score 4.7/5

★★★★★ ★★★★★

Calculated from edition completeness, EPUB availability, text structure and catalogue metadata. Not a user rating.

How this score is calculated

Description quality20 pts
Title & short description10 pts
Source metadata20 pts
Text length15 pts
Chapters / structure15 pts
EPUB file integrity20 pts

Total of 100 points, scaled to a 2.5-5.0 range. Editions with an empty description or a missing EPUB file are not scored.

Edition quality

File: pg55921

Read the Text

Underscores "_" before and after a word or phrase indicate _italics_ in the original text. Small capitals have been converted to SOLID capitals. Antiquated spellings or ancient words have been preserved. Typographical errors have been silently corrected but other variations in spelling and punctuation remain unaltered.

_London: Simpkin, Marshall, & Co., Paternoster Row._ _Manchester: A. Ireland & Co., Pall Mall._ 1866.

_Page._ Come whoam to thi childer an’ me 7 What ails thee, my son Robin? 10 God bless these poor folk! 12 Come, Mary, link thi arm i’ mine 15 Chirrup 19 The dule’s i’ this bonnet o’ mine 22 Tickle times 24 Jamie’s frolic 27 Owd Pinder 31 Come, Jamie, let’s undo thi shoon 33 Th’ goblin parson 35 While takin’ a wift o’ my pipe 38 God bless thi silver yure! 41 Margit’s comin’ 44 Eawr folk 47 Th’ sweetheart gate 50 Gentle Jone 52 Neet-fo’ 55 Aw’ve worn my bits o’ shoon away 58 Yesterneet 60 Bonny Nan 63 A lift on the way 66 Tum Rindle 69

COME WHOAM TO THI CHILDER AN’ ME.

Aw’ve just mended th’ fire wi’ a cob; Owd Swaddle has brought thi new shoon; There’s some nice bacon collops o’th hob, An’ a quart o’ ale-posset i’th oon; Aw’ve brought thi top cwot, doesto know, For th’ rain’s comin’ deawn very dree; An’ th’ har’stone’s as white as new snow; Come whoam to thi childer an’ me.

When aw put little Sally to bed, Hoo cried ’cose her feyther weren’t theer; So aw kiss’d th’ little thing, an’ aw said Thae’d bring her a ribbin fro’ th’ fair; An’ aw gav her her doll, an’ some rags, An’ a nice little white cotton bo’; An’ aw kiss’d her again; but hoo said At hoo wanted to kiss _thee_ an’ o’.

An’ Dick, too, aw’d sich wark wi’ him, Afore aw could get him up stairs; Thae towd him thae’d bring him a drum, He said, when he’re sayin’ his prayers; Then he look’d i’ my face, an’ he said, “Has th’ boggarts taen houd o’ my dad?” An’ he cried whol his e’en were quite red;— He likes thee some weel, does yon lad!

At th’ lung-length aw geet ’em laid still; An’ aw hearken’t folks’ feet at went by; So aw iron’t o’ my clooas reet weel, An’ aw hanged ’em o’th maiden to dry; When aw’d mended thi stockin’s an’ shirts, Aw sit deawn to knit i’ my cheer, An’ aw rayley did feel rather hurt— Mon, aw’m _one-ly_ when theaw art’nt theer.

“Aw’ve a drum and a trumpet for Dick; Aw’ve a yard o’ blue ribbin for Sal; Aw’ve a book full o’ babs; an’ a stick, An’ some bacco an’ pipes for mysel; Aw’ve brought thee some coffee an’ tay— Iv thae’ll _feel_ i’ my pocket, thae’ll _see_; An’ aw’ve bought tho a new cap to-day,— But aw olez bring summat for _thee_!

“God bless tho, my lass; aw’ll go whoam, An’ aw’ll kiss thee an’ th’ childer o’ reawnd; Thae knows, at wheerever aw roam, Aw’m fain to get back to th’ owd greawnd; Aw can do wi’ a crack o’er a glass; Aw can do wi’ a bit ov a spree; But aw’ve no gradely comfort, my lass, Except wi’ yon childer and thee.”

WHAT AILS THEE, MY SON ROBIN?

What ails thee, my son Robin? My heart is sore for thee; Thi cheeks are grooin’ thinner, An’ th’ leet has laft thi e’e; Theaw trails abeawt so lonesome, An’ looks so pale at morn; God bless tho, lad, aw’m soory To see tho so forlorn.

Thi fuutstep’s sadly awter’t,— Aw used to know it weel; Neaw, arto fairy-strucken; Or, arto gradely ill? Or, hasto bin wi’ th’ witches I’th’ cloof, at deep o’th’ neet? Come, tell mo, Robin, tell mo, For summat is not reet!

“Neaw, mother, dunnot fret yo; Aw am not like mysel’; But, ’tis not lung o’th’ feeorin’ That han to do wi’th deil; There’s nought at thus could daunt mo, I’th’ cloof, by neet nor day;— It’s yon blue e’en o’ Mary’s;— They taen my life away.

“Aw deawt aw’ve done wi comfort To th’ day that aw mun dee; For th’ place hoo sets her fuut on, It’s fairy greawnd to me; But oh, it’s useless speighkin’, Aw connut ston her pride; An’ when a true heart’s breighkin It’s very hard to bide!”

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Edwin Waugh’s Lancashire Songs (1866) opens with a domestic plea in “Come whoam to thi childer an’ me,” where a wife’s voice mixes homely details—mended fire, new shoes, bacon collops—with the children’s longing for their father. The poem’s shift from the wife’s monologue to the husband’s reply, promising gifts and a return, establishes a pattern of alternating perspectives that runs through the collection. Waugh’s dialect is not merely decorative; it shapes the rhythm and intimacy of each piece, from the lullaby-like “What ails thee, my son Robin?” to the brisk narrative of “Gentle Jone.” The songs move between private emotion and communal observation, often within a single stanza.

Domestic Voices and Shifting Speakers

Several poems in the collection rely on a single speaker addressing an absent listener, creating an intimate, almost epistolary feel. In “Come whoam to thi childer an’ me,” the wife’s voice dominates the first half, detailing her chores and the children’s tears, before the husband’s reply in the final stanza reverses the dynamic. “What ails thee, my son Robin?” uses a mother’s worried questions to frame the son’s unspoken sorrow, while “Come, Mary, link thi arm i’ mine” shifts to a lover’s direct address. This technique gives each poem a dramatic core: the reader overhears a conversation, not a monologue. Waugh varies the pace by inserting narrative interruptions—a child’s cry, a knock at the door—that break the lyrical flow and ground the emotion in everyday action.

Dialect as Musical Structure

Waugh’s Lancashire dialect is not uniform; it adapts to the mood of each song. In “Th’ sweetheart gate,” the repeated phrase “gate” (way) and the gentle rhythm of “rindlin’ wayter” and “posied lea” create a pastoral lilt. By contrast, “Gentle Jone” uses a more conversational, anecdotal tone, with the narrator’s interjections (“Owd lad,” said I) and the old man’s halting speech. The dialect also affects the poems’ pace: contractions like “aw’ve,” “thae’d,” and “hoo” compress syllables, quickening the line, while longer dialect words (“maunderin’,” “crayter”) slow it down. Waugh often pairs dialect with traditional airs indicated in the titles, such as “The Manchester Angel” or “Jenny’s Bawbee,” suggesting the poems were meant to be sung, their linguistic quirks matching the tune’s rise and fall.

Pace Shifts Between Lyric and Narrative

The collection alternates between short, song-like lyrics and longer narrative pieces. “Neet-fo’” (nightfall) is a brief, atmospheric poem where the wind and thorn set a somber scene, its pace slow and repetitive. In contrast, “Tum Rindle” and “Owd Pinder” unfold as stories with multiple characters and dialogue, moving at a brisk, anecdotal speed. Waugh often signals a change in pace through punctuation: dashes and exclamations in “Chirrup” create urgency, while the measured lines of “God bless these poor folk!” slow the reader with repeated blessings. The effect is a varied reading experience that mirrors the oral tradition from which these songs spring—sometimes a quick tale told over a pipe, sometimes a lingering lament.

Readers approaching Lancashire Songs should attend to the interplay between the printed text and its implied musical settings. The dialect rewards reading aloud, where its rhythms and elisions become clear. Waugh’s work is best experienced not as a single narrative but as a sequence of distinct voices, each with its own tempo and emotional register. The collection’s brevity—fifty-four minutes of reading—invites repeated visits to individual poems, allowing their linguistic and structural details to emerge over time.

There’s a particular ache in Waugh’s Lancashire songs—that pull between a warm hearth and the wide moor. It reminded me, strangely, of thumbing through old glossaries, trying to hold onto words that slip. That same quiet longing for a shared language lives in Chaucer's Works, Volume 6 — Introduction, Glossary, and Indexes — Context and Discussion. Both are ways of keeping a voice close, even when the world moves on.