Yorkshire's rich tradition in balladry, folksong, and music-hall dittery
(sic):

P Woods, of Bristol, replies to S Stone's query (fwd by B Bishop, of
Sheffield) - hey, that's good reporting, ennit? - in "Re: Query": "This is
an old music-hall song, from Jack Pleasants [...] a popular pantomime
attraction who hailed from Yorkshire".

Yes, Bradford, and had his debut at the Palace of Varieties, Leeds, of "The
Good Old Days" fame!

Reminds me I once organised a little something down under about Yorkshire,
upon the visit to the Pampas of a Sheffieldian born Yorkshireman. Had
really no one or nothing to resort to other than my imagination (and I
could not resort on Mr Simon his-self (sic), since he was supposed to be
the _guest_ whom we was (sic) tributing!), and so I ended up including
great good ol' Pleasants in the programme! Quite a success it were (sic), too.

I'm appending programme in the ps. (Further appendages for further
appendages welcomed!).
Best,

JL
BA, Arg.
"There's nothing can beat a good ancient Yorkshire ballad"
                 (Kidson).
=============
"On Ilkley Moor Baht’At: An evening of Yorkshire songs and poems. With Mark
Simons. Tuesday April 4th, 6 pm. St Michael’s Hall, Calle 58, No. 611, La
Plata CP 1900, Pcia BUENOS AIRES, Argentina. [address still valid with me!
JLS.]

1. The Holmfirth Anthem: this florid & idyllic fragment is called "The
Holmfirth Anthem" because
the people of Holmfirth, Yorks, were quite fond of reciting it. It is also
known, more vulgarly, as "The Pretty Flowers", or, also, as "Through The
Groves", and may still so be heard in the Yorkshine dales.

Abroad for pleasure as I was a-walking
On one summer summer's evening clear
There I beheld a most beautiful damsel
Lamenting for her shepherd swain.
     The fairest evening that e'er I beheld thee
Evermore with the lad I adore,
Wilt thou go fight the French & the Spaniards?
Wilt thou leave me thus, my dear?
     No more to yon green banks will I take thee,
With pleasure for to rest meself & view the lambs
But I will take you to yon green garden
Where the pretty pretty flowers grow.
                Courtesy of F H, of Leeds.

2. A seasonal offering, "Roll of Honour":

When, of a Sunda, ah sits i mi pew,
Ah sees a list o lads at yance ah knew,
An then it ardlins seems a day sin last
Ah spooak tiv em, though monny yeears es passed.
       There's Dick at war a champion wi t'ploo,
Ti set a rig an furrow straight an true,
An Ben at snickled monny a fine fat hare,
E'll nivver trouble t'keepers onny mair!
       'Arry, that oor Sarah used ti cooart,
An Bob at war a dab at ivvry spooart,
When Ah war young, Ah palled on wiv em all,
Bud noo they're nobbut neeams upon t'choch wall.

    From Q Nicholas, "An East Yorkshire Anthology"

("Doesn't this remind me of them many Sundays in my youth when I looked at
the Roll of Honour in our rural Methodist chapel. As far as I know,
Yorkshire had only three _Thankful_ Villages (so-called), that is, ones
which lost _no_ men in The Great War").

3. I courted Mary Ellen for fourteen solid years,
But she made me blush when she,
One night boldly said to me,
‘You’ve never kissed me once, John,
Tho’ I’d like you to’, she sighed,
‘Why don’t you call me pretty names?’
I hung my head & cried,
   I’m shy, Mary Ellen, I’m shy,
It does seem so naughty, oh my!
Kissing is nicey, I’ve often heard say,
But still how to do it, I don’t know the way,
So you put your arm round my waist,
I promise I won’t scream or cry,
So you do the kissing & cuddling instead,
‘Cause I’m shy Mary Ellen I’m shy.
   Last year with Mary Ellen to Lowestoft I went,
Mary Ellen said to me, ‘I’m going bathing in the sea’
So while I go & have a splash, where all the ladies go,
You go & have a bathe amongst the men’, I said,‘No,no!
I’m shy, Mary Ellen, I’m shy,
It does seem to naughty, oh my!
Men are so rough & I’m sure they will stare
They’ll splash me & duck me if I go in there.
The girls ain’t so rough as the men,
& they wouldn’t duck me or try
So I’d rather bathe here along with the girls
Cause I’m shy, Mary Ellen, I’m shy’.
   While out with Mary Ellen we met a 6 foot man,
‘That’s the saucy scamp’, said he,
‘Who last week insulted me,
Not just you thrash the massive brute
I looked at his six feet, then she said,
‘Take your coat off,’ but I said ‘What, in the street?
I’m shy, Mary Ellen, I’m shy,
It would look so naughty, oh my,
I said as I looked at the great hulking chap,
If I wasn’t for one thing, I’d give him a slap,
But look at the ladies about
They’ld all stop to look, &, oh my!
If I take my coat off they’ll see all my shirt and
I’m shy, Mary Ellen, I’m shy’.
   To marry Mary Ellen I went to church one morn,
While the party with the bride went to church,
I stood aside, for quite an hour I stood there,
While she waited to be wed,
Then she came out & said,
‘Come on, I don’t like to, I said,
     ‘I’m shy Mary Ellen I’m shy,
It would look so naughty, oh my!
But still we got married & got home alright,
& kept up the fun with our friends until night,
Then they wished Mary Ellen good-bye,
& they started to go, so did I,
Then she said, ‘You’re not going’, I said, ‘Yes I am,
‘Cause I’m shy, Mary Ellen, I’m shy!’
         Jack Pleasants.

4. The following poem is usually attributed to John Hartley, the Yorkshire
dialect poet:

Asta saen aar Mary's bonnet?
It's a stunner, an' no mistak;
It's got red rooses raight on top,
An' tow big ribbons raight dairn t'back.
     Dusta know, aar Mary, oh went ter choch on Sundee
An' the praycher
Eh prayched an' prayched an' prayched
Abairt aar Mary's bonnet.
     An' aar Mary, oh stood up in choch an' sed:
"Ey up thae! It's bett'n'en thine
Thaa bawd-yedded tonnip -
Tha cossna get n'rooses rairned thy bonnet!"

5. Where hast thou been since I saw thee?
On Ilkley Moor baht’at,
Where hast thou been since I saw thee?
Where hast thou been since I saw thee?
  On Ilkley Moor baht’ at,
  On Ilkley Moor baht’ at,
  On Ilkley Moor baht’ at.
I’ve been a-courting Mary Jane,
On Ilkley Moor baht’ at.
I’ve been courting Mary Jane,
I’ ve been courting Mary Jane.
   On Ilkley Moor baht at, etc.
Thou’ll surely catch thy death of cold,
On Ilkley Moor baht’at.
Thou’ll surely catch thy death of cold,
Thou’ll surely catch thy death of cold.
   On Ilkley Moor baht’at, etc.
Then we shall have to bury thee,
On Ilkley Moor baht’ at.
Then we shall have to bury thee,
Then we shall have to bury thee,
   On Ilkley Moor baht’at, etc.
Then worms will come & eat thee oop,
On Ilkley Moor baht’at.
Then worms will come & eat thee oop,
Then worms will come & eat thee oop.
   On Ilkley Moor baht’ at.
Then dooks will come & eat oop worms,
On Ilkley Moor baht’ at.
Then dooks will come & eat oop worms,
Then dooks will come & eat oop worms,
  On Ilkley Moor baht’ at, etc.
Then we will come & eat opp dooks,
On Ilkley Moor baht’ at,
Then we will come & eat oop dooks,
Then we will come & eat oop dooks
  On Ilkley Moor baht’ at, etc.
Then we will have thee back again,
On Ilkley Moor baht’ at.
Then we will have thee back again,
Then we will have thee back again,
   On Ilkley Moor baht’ at, etc.
            By courtesy of JH D-H,
            of Keighley, nr. Ilkley!