The conjuror had been engaged from a nearby town, and it woon’t too long afore he saw in Jarge a likely victim for one of his tricks. He said to Joe: “It would surprise you if I produced a live rabbit from your inside pocket, wouldn’t it?” “That that would, bor,” replied Jarge, “and iverybody else here anorl!” “And why is that, my good man?” “Cos I’re got my ow ferret in there.” * * * NOT PARMANENT? William was over 80, and he'd warked on the farm since the tender age of 10, when he had started as a 'holgee boy'. He’d wintered it and summered it, man and boy, he used to say. One day the young farmer came to him and said: "William, you started on this farm with my grandfather, then you worked for my father and now it’s me. Something like 70 years’ faithful service you've given to our family. "You have your old age pension — not enough, I know. But I have decided to give you a few shillings a week, so that you can retire. How would you like that?" “Orl roight, marster, if yew want me ter give up," replied William. "But, mark yew me, if Oi’d a known that this hare job woon’t parmanent Oi shorn’t a tearkun ut in the fust plearce!” * * *
“It’s the same thing - you have your pipe in your mouth,” she replied curtly. “Ah, yis, that may well be, but that en’t the searme thing. I’re a-got me bewts on, but Oi en’t a-walkin’, am Oi?” * * * THE LORD AND THE GARDENER A gardener at a Norfolk Manor house had to retire owing to age and the lord of the manor, besides giving him a pension, sought accommodation for him as he wanted the garden's cottage for the new gardener. A derelict cottage in the village was bought and restored for habitation, but the garden was knee deep with weeds and needed a lot of attention, although, with much hard work the old gardener cleared the plot and planted it out with many beautiful plants and flowers. One bright summer's evening he was standing by the garden gate when the vicar passed by and happened to stop and admire the colourful display. "The Lord and you have done a fine job here," he said. The old gardener took off his cap, scratched his head and drily replied: "Well, bor, yew shooda seen ut when the Lord hed it orl on His own!" * * * GOATS DON'T MIND!
The Vicar was talking to a farmer one day, who, it seemed, was very fond of the animals on his farm. “I've heard it said, Charlie,” he told the farmer, “that you are extremely fond of your animals. Tell me, if you will, which of the Lord’s animals do you love the best?” “Whoi, Vicar, thass easy – Billy the goat, a ’corse,” replied Charlie. “We mearke quoite a pet onnim and me an' the missus orfen let Billy sleep alonger us in our bedroom…” “But... what about the smell?” asked the Vicar. “Oh, thass orlroight,” replied Charlie, “goats don’t fare ter moind about that!”
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Boy Albie
Norfolk born and bred. Archives
August 2020
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