Des Barnes in Corry 'Eaven
(by Old Blowick)

It'd bin a slaw deh fer St. Peter --
'E'd knocked off urly that deh,
'Avin' clawsed oop t'gehts, 'e weer eatin'
Buttud pikelets -- 'e luvd 'em that weh --
Wen t'ring o' t'bell gehve 'im nawtice
That sumwun weer trine t' gerrin.
"'Oo con it be, 'n' at this 'owa?
Ba gum, 'e's mehkin' a din!"

Saw St. Peter 'e purrun 'is wellies
(It con gerra bit damp oop in cloods!)
'N' off 'e went in 'igh dudgeon --
Tha cud tell 'e weer'n wun uv 'is moods!
"Wosta want?" demanded St. Peter
Uv t'lad 'oo weer standin' in t'wet.
"Theh toald me Ah'd best repawt 'ere lihke,"
Sed t'lad, "Bah yon ehnjul Ah met."

"Tha'd best cum insihde then," said Peter,
"If that's wot yon serryfim sez;
Burrah'll need tha furst nehme fer t'recawd."
"Naw problum," sed t'lad, "me nehme's Des."
"'Ere! Ista yon bookie frum Corrie?"
Th'apossul exclehmed in alahm.
"Ista shore that tha's cum t' t'reet plehce, lad?"
"Aw aye," Des replied, gradely cahm.

"Ah've frens 'ere -- Ah can't wehte t' see 'em."
"Them's expectin' thi, is they?" ast t'Saint.
"Well shorely they've toald 'em Ah'm cummin' --
Them's in fer t'surprihze if they ain't!
Th'apossul then rung fer an ehnjul
T' get t'lad kitted in wihte.
Aye, wihte flawin' rawbs 'n' un 'ehlaw --
Ba 'eck but t'lad did luke a sihte!

"Wot's yon sound Ah 'ear?" 'e ast th'eynjul,
"It be t'practice fer t'choir, dosta see?
Wudsta lihke t' 'ave a luke in theer?
'Appun t'singas be well-knawn t' thee.
Theh luked beyind t'clood 'n' 'e sawr'em --
'N' thaw 'e'd not knawn 'em un Street,
'E recognihzed owd Martha Long'urst,
Wi' Ena 'n' Minnie awl reet!

Theh weer singin' theer 'earts oueaut, accumpneed
Bah owd Ernest Bishop un th'arp;
Martha 'n' Minnie weer t'bit flat-lihke,
'N' owd Ena weer singin' t'bit sharp.
Three fellas mehde oop th'onsombul -- 
Jack Walker -- 'e weer a fihne bass --
Len Fairclough 'n' Jerry weer tenors,
Wihle Annie luked un wi' 'igh grehce.

Jus then, roeaund t'corner walked Derek,
'E weer feelin' reet peevish, 'e weer!
Fer wen 'e saw Des wi' th'ehnjul
'E muttad "Wot's 'e doin' 'ere?
Theer's naw rume oop 'ere fer sutchlihke,
T'lad joos woan't fit in at awl!
E'll be pinchin' me gnawms 'n' me turnips
'N' pehntin' rude werds un me wall!

"Nay, nay, cum, cum," sed th'ehnjul,
"Thass naw weh t' spake t' thi mehte!
Is it summat tha ehte fer thi brekky?
Tha'll be sent doeauwn belaw at this rehte!
Be nihce t' t'lad, 'n' rememba
Tha's in Corry 'Eaven, me boy;
Oop 'ere us let bihguns be bihguns,
Tha'd best joos staht spreadin' sum joy!"

"Th'ehnjul's reet, Desmond Barnes," offud Derek,
"Ah'm sorry, Ah weer nowty wi' thee; 
Cum wi me 'n' Ah'll shaw thi aroeaund, lad,
We con meet sum owd mehtes fer us tea.
Theer's a caff joos oop yonder, we'll gaw theer.
Tha maun't peh, fer Ah think it's me turn!"
Ba gum, dosta knaw, theer weer Phyllis
Byihnd t'counta, wi' Joyce fillin' th'urn!

At t'tehbul weer seatid Don Brennan
'Oo sed, "Phyllis, lass, see 'oo it is!"
'N' t'owd lass weer saw pleased t' see 'im,
'Er gehve Des a reet 'ug 'n' a kiss.
'N' Joyce, 'er sed "Asta seen Scampa?"
'N' Des 'ad to seh 'e 'ad not.
"'E musta joos slipt into t'black awl!"
"Aye," sed Joyce, "Joost as Ah thot!" 

"Saw wots un t'menu?" ast Desmond.
"Ah'm 'awpin' it be awl Lanky fur,
Lihke parkin 'n' cow'eels 'n' pikelets.
Ba 'eck, Ah cud ate cubbud bur!"
Then glancin' roeaund t'caffy 'e nawtissed
Asleep at t'fah 'tehbul, a man --
"Well, Ah nevva met 'im in person,
Burrah'd give evun odds that's Eawr Stan!"

Then Phyllis sed, "'Ere, tha knaws wot, Des --
Ah'm not wun t' mawn aw t' poeaut,
Bu' wen Ah left t'Street fer t' cum 'ere,
Naw wun on t'prawgram sed oeaut!
Theer weer enuff sed abaht Samir
'N' Joyce too, wen awl's sed 'n' dun!
Bu' doan't think tharrahm reet vexed aboeaut it --
Nay, lad, 'cos Ah'm 'avin' sutch fun!

Joos then throo t'door cehme a yung lass --
It weer Lisa, 'n' Des 'id 'is fehce.
'E joos dirrent knaw wot 'e cud seh, lihke,
'E felt tharee weer in disgrehce.
Bu' Eawr Lisa cehme awva t' t'tehbul
'N' sed "Allo, Des, 'owsta bin?"
'N' Des sed "Owd luv, Ah'm reet sorry
Fer beyehvin' lihke yon, t'weer a sin!

Ah missed thi, tha knaws, wen tha left me,
Burrah tuke oop wi' t'uthas tha knaws."
"Ee lad," cehme t'replieh, "It doan't matter --
Things is diffrunt oop 'ere Ah suppawse.
Us doan't dwell un past 'ere, owd sweet'eart."
T'meanin' on Des stahtid t' dawn.
"Thass champyun," 'e sed, "just wun question:
Dosta knaw wharrapund t' Shawn?"