* * * SOME TATER An old farmer told one of his farm boys to go and borrow a crosscut saw — his mangolds were so big he couldn't lift them into the cart. The boy went and said: 'Please, sir, my master watta burrer yar crosscut. His mangolds are so big he carn't lift 'em inter the cart.' 'Well, bor,' replied the neighbour, 'dew yew tell yar marster Oi'm sorry – but moi crosscut is stuck in a tater.' * * *
* * * TIME TO TURN BACK I remember years ago an old agricultural labourer suddenly decided to take up cycling. He bought himself a tricycle. One day he thought he would visit his 'old mates' at Ingham, 18 miles away, so he pushed off one very hot morning and to my amazement came back in about four hours. 'You're back early,' I said. 'Ah, bor,' he said, 'Oi gotta far as Stalham an' Oi wus that there hot Oi wus all of a muck-sweat. Oi said to moiself: "Oi'm a-goin' home, bor. Oi'll dew that thare other bit tomorrer.' * * * A SLIGHT CASE OF EXAGGERATION There was an old fellow, generally known as Jarge, who on Sundays used to come to a little mission room in Briston, many years ago. He was so much inclined to exaggerate that his wife, who usually came with him, once said: 'You know, Jarge, yew dew stretch it so much when yew're a-talkin' Oi sometimes feel almost ashamed.' 'If yew dew think Oi'm overdewin' on it, jest yew corf, gentle-like,' he replied. 'Oi shall know what it means.' The next Sunday he was speaking on the subject of Samson letting loose the foxes into the cornfields with fire brands on their tails. 'And, yer know,' he was saying, 'some o' them 'ere foxes 'a' got tails six foot long . . . ' 'H'm, h'm!' coughed his wife. 'Well, p'raps not quite six foot. But 'bout's long as this 'ere mat on the floor 'ere.' 'H'm, h'm!' Jarge sighed a little and after a slight pause said: 'O' course, they int all on 'em got tails the same length. Some on 'em might only be about a yard.' 'H'm, h'm!' Then, turning slightly aside he said: 'Yis and yew may corf. Oi 'ont take another inch orf.' * * * WASTING TIME
A local parson had some glebe land he required ploughing and he hired a neighbouring farmer's horseman and team to do the work. Watching, the parson noticed that the horseman stopped for some time at the end of each furrow, so he asked the reason for this apparent waste of time. 'Must wind the hosses, parson, must wind the hosses,' was his reply. The parson went away, returned with a hedging tool and said: 'While the horses are getting their wind, John, you might cut the hedge for me.' John was somewhat taken aback and said: 'Parson, yew know that although we have a large family an' there is a lot of housework to do, moi missus an' me come to charch every Sunday?' 'Yes, I know, John,' the parson answered, 'and very pleased I am to see you.' 'Well,' said John, 'how would that be if next Sunday Oi brought a stone of taters in a bowl an' yew peeled 'em toime we're singing the hymns?'
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Boy Albie
Norfolk born and bred. Archives
August 2020
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