CHAPTER II
Double, double, toil an’ trouble.
Nah then lads for wark, nowt but wark’ll do, an’ theas ’at can’t wark mun plan. This wur th’ cry all up an daan Haworth next morning, an’ for weeks all wor vary bizzy. One man made a wheelbarra it’h chamber, but it wor soa big wal it cudn’t be gotten aat withaat takkin th’ haase side daan. Anuther invented a koulin’ machine to koul th’ muck up both sides to save wheelbarras an’ work toils for th’ navvies. Some started a practicin’ for porters a th’ railway, wi’ oppenin’ an’ shuttin’ th’ oven doors wi’ a bang, shaatin’ aat a’th’ same time ‘All aat for Haworth.’ One man wur trying th’ dodge on, an’ th’ cat wur i’th’ ovan, an’ poor thing expectin’ ’at it wur i’th’ wrong place jumpt aat just at th’ time ’at he wur wistling to start, an’ wur catcht bi th’ tail an’ th’ poor thing lost it, for it wur cut off as clean as a wistle. A crookt legg’d pedl’r come fra Keighla one day wi’ winter edges, an’ thay tuk him for a sapper an’ miner ’at hed com to mezhur for th’ railway, an’ mind yo they did mak sammat on him, thay thout ’at th’ winter edges wur th’ apparatus to mezhur by. But hasumever th’ reightens cum at after, an’ a sore disaster thay hed yo mind, for thay laid plan o’th’ railway daan at green swarth an’ a oud kaa belangin’ to Blue Beard swallow’d th’ job, thay tried to save ’em but all i’ vain; a sor do wur this for both folk an’ th’ railway, for it put em a year or two back an’ foak wur ragin’ mad abaat th’ kaa, an’ if it hedn’t a been a wizen’d oud thing thay’d a swallow’d it alive – th’ nasty, greedy oud kaa.
Thay hed a meeting th’ tother neet,
Fair o’th’ top o’ wuthering street,
To see what things thay’d got complete,
Concerning Haworth railway.
Wen Penny Wabbac tuk the chair,
He lukt to be i’ grate despair,
He sez, good foak, are yo’ aware,
Wat’s happened to the railway?
Wi’ persperashun on his bra,
He sez, good foaks, I’ll tell yo’ nah;
Oud Blue Beard’s nasty wizen’d kaa
Hez swallow’d plan o’th’ railway.
Wi’ theas remarks poor Wabbac sat,
Wen Jonny Broth doft off his hat,
His een they blazed like some wild cat
Wi’ vengence for the railway.
He sed, mi blud begins to boil,
To think ’at we sud work and toil,
And even th’ cattle cannot thoyle
To let us hev a railway.
On hearing this the Haworth foak
Began to think it wur no joak,
An wisht ’at greedy kaa ma choak
’At swallow’d plan o’ th’ railway.
But hasumiver thay gat ower this, an’ wur net long at after afore they hed more disasters, such as tunnils shutterin’, and chapels sinkin’, and law suits, an’ so an, wal Haworthers thout bet hart at both th’ foak an’ th’ grund wur soft daan at Keighla, an’ thretten’d to coam sum o’th’ crookt legg’d ens thair heads if they insinuated; an’ th’ Volunteers thretten’d to tak thair part if thair wur owt to do; an’ farther ner that, they vowed ’at they wur ready to go to war wi’ onny nashun that sud insult awther them or th’ railway under the present difficulties.
For sighs an’ tears an’ doubts an’ fears
Prevails with greatest folly,
For th’ sinagog hez cockt its clog,
An’ th’ parson’s melancholy.
Tunnils sink an’ navvies drink,
An’ chapels are upsetting;
For railway shares nobody cares,
An’ iverybody’s fretting.
The iron horse they curse of course,
An’ fane wud it abondon,
An’ loyer’ fees thair pockets ease,
A thousand pounds i’ Londen.
Misfortunes speed as rank as weed,
An’ puts on such a damper,
Wal th’ foaks declare i’ great despair,
It’s up wi’ th’ iron tramper.
The Volunteers prick up thair ears,
An’ mack a famos rattle;
They want to run to Wimbledon,
Or onny field o’ battle.
Thair black cravats an’ toppen’d hats
Are causin’ grate attraction;
’Gainst Bonepart they want to start,
I’ regular fightin’ action.
The raw recuits hev got thair suits,
Thay brag to one another,
To th’ first campaign thay’l tak th’ train
Without the slightest bother.
But hasumiver, it’s gotten to th’ last stage na, an’ foak is very impashent for it to come up, an’ thay are preparin’ to give it a grand recepshun; one oud woman hes a peggy tub full o’ meal an’ saar swillings for th’ ingen, an’ thay are preparin for th’ passengers fra Keighla.
Thayr standin’ i’ groups an’ livin’ i’ hopes,
An’ more disappointments thay dread,
Wi’ thayr ears touchin’ th’ graand, thay’ve harkened for th’ saand,
Wal thay’ve omust gone wrong i’ thair head.
Sez Dick o’ Grate Beckers, just keep up yor peckers,
Yo’ hevn’t much longer to wait,
For blue milk an’ porridge, yo’ll get better forridge,
Wen th’ railway gets fairly agait.
For it’s labour i’ vain to harken for th’ train
Wen all’s goin’ on varry steady;
So pray yo be calm, its takkin no harm,
Thay’ll bring it as soin as it’s ready.
For th’ rails are all laid, an’ thair’s nowt to be made,
Nobbut th’ navvies to clear off all th’ muck;
Then all ’ll be going, for the Cowinhead mooin
Is baan to be browt on a truck.
So Sham o’ Blue Bills, wi’ thi pints and thi gills,
It’s baan to be better for thee,
To Keighla an’ back tha ma go in a crack,
Wen tha’s baan on a bit of a spree.
An’ John o’ Pot Anns, tha mun alter thi plans,
For tha niver can get ’em i’ force;
For I’m happy to tell at astead o’th’ canal
They’re baan to try th’ big iron horse.
Thare’s oud Jim o’ Tyas is baan to be wise,
An’ th’ foak sez at he’s takkin a hig;
He’ll see it first tried afore he will ride,
He’s daan abaat th’ paper mill brig.
He sez he’ll be sure, it dropt in before,
An’ it might do again for a pinch;
For he sez they’ll be kapt if some on ems trapt,
So he’s blest if he’ll trust it an inch.
Thare’s oud Mally Brook hez been daan to look,
An’ shoo’s sore disappointed thay say;
Shoo’s omost gone crakt for shoo says it weant act,
For they nobbut can run it one way.
Shoo sez at high class at’s laid daan all th’ brass,
Just na they’re beginning to craw;
To mak up for th’ trouble they’re baan to charge double,
For bad spekulashun it law.
So to settle em daan, Sir Christopher Braan
Hez tould ’em it wur his intent,
If thay’d nobbut be quiet till things wur all reight,
He’d give them a trip to Chow Bent.
Yes, and besides a trip to Chow Bent, they gat several more trips promised bi th’ diffrent distingwisht citizens o’ Haworth. One man promised to give ’em a trip to Bullock’s Smithy, anuther to Tinsley Bongs, wal thay wur gettin’ quite up o’ thersels an’ th’ railway. Or else thay’d been for many a year an’ cudn’t sleep a wink at neet for dreamin’ abaat th’ railway ingens, boilers, an’ so on, an’ mony a time thay’ve waken’d i’ ther sleep shakkin’ th’ bed post, thinkin’ thay wur settin’ th’ ingen on or stoppin’ it. But thay’d gotten reight an’ thout thay wur baan to hev no more trouble; but alas, it wur a mistak, for th’ mornin’ of th’ 14th o’ November an oud skyologer went aat a weather-gazin’ an’ planet-rulin, an’ woful news an’ bad omens he browt back wi him, for he sed at th’
Stars wur shoiting in an’ aat,
An’ gravel ratches wur abaat,
An’ th’ folk, he sed thay little knew
Wat mischief it began to brew.
An’ news he spread abaat the taan
Wat lots o’ rain wud tumble daan
An’ like his anshent sires he spoke