The Hungry Forties
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Thou wants my vote, young man wi' t' carpet-bags, Weel, sit thee down, an' hark what I've to say. It's noan so varry oft wer kitchen flags Are mucked by real live lords down Yelland way. I've read thy speyks i' t' paper of a neet, Thou lets a vast o' words flow off thy tongue; Thou's gotten facts an' figures, plain as t' leet, An' argiments to slocken owd an' young. But what are facts an' figures 'side o' truths We've bowt wi' childer' tears an' brokken lives? An' what are argiments o' cockered youths To set agean yon groans o' caitiff wives? 'Twere "hungry forties" when I were a lad, An' fowks were clemmed, an' weak i' t' airm an' brain; We lived on demick'd taties, bread gone sad, An' wakkened up o' neets croodled wi' pain. When t' quartern loaf were raised to one and four, We'd watter-brewis, swedes stown out o' t' field; Farmers were t' landlords' jackals, an' us poor Tewed in Egyptian bondage unrepealed. I mind them times when lads marched down our street Wi' penny loaves on pikes all steeped i' blooid; "It's breead or blooid," they cried. "We've nowt to eat; To Hell wi' all that taxes t' people's fooid." There was a papist duke that com aleng Wi' curry powders, an' he telled our boss That when fowk's bellies felt pination's teng, For breead, yon stinkin' powders they mun soss. I went to wark when I were eight yeer owd; I tended galloways an' sammed up coils. 'Twere warm i' t' pit, aboon 't were despert cowd, An' clothes were nobbut spetches, darns an' hoils. Thro' six to eight I worked, then two mile walk Across yon sumpy fields to t' kitchen door. I've often fainted, face as white as chalk, Then fall'n lang-length upon wer cobble-floor. My mother addled seven and six a week, Slavin' all t' day at Akeroyd's weyvin'-shed: Fayther at t' grunstone wrowt, while he fell sick; Steel filin's gate intul his lungs, he said. I come thee then no thank for all thy speyks, Thou might as weel have spared thisen thy pains; I see no call to laik at ducks an' drakes Wi' t' bitter truth that's burnt intul our brains. "Corn laws be damned," said dad i' forty-eight; "Corn laws be damned," say I i' nineteen-five. Tariff reform, choose, how, will have to wait Down Yelland way, so lang as I'm alive. If thou an' thine sud tax us workers' fooid, An' thrust us back in our owd misery, May t' tears o' our deead childer thin thy blooid, An' t' curse o' t' "hungry forties" leet on thee. |
Notes (arranged alphabetically)
Addled : earned
Agean : against
Caitiff : infirm (M)
Childer, childer' : children, children's
Choose, how : of any sort
Clemmed : starving
Cobble-floor : floor made of small deep stones set on bare earth
Cockered : pampered
Croodled : bent double (M)
Curry powders : unlikely as it sounds, this was suggested (see Curry below)
Demick'd : diseased (M)
Flags : large flat stones laid on bare earth as a floor
Galloways : pit ponies
Gate : got
Grunstone : grindstone
"Hungry forties" : the 1840s
Intul : into
Laik at ducks an' drakes : play d. and d.: play fast and loose, to be reckless...
Leet on thee : light on thee: fall on you
Mind : remember, bring to mind
Mucked : soiled, trodden on
Mun : must
Noan : not
Nobbut : nought but, nothing but, only
One and four : one shilling and four pence (see Money below)
Papist duke : Duke of Norfolk (M) (see Curry below)
Pination : pining for food, want, hunger, starvation
Quartern loaf : a loaf of bread made from a quarter stone (just over 1.5 kg) of flour
Sammed up coils : brought up coal or hewed coal
Seven and six : seven shillings and sixpence (see Money below)
Slocken : satiate (M); slake
Soss : sip (M)
Spetches : patches (M)
Speyks : speeches
Stown : stolen
Sumpy : swampy (M)
Taties : potatoes
Teng : sting (M)
Tewed : toiled, slaved
Thisen : yourself (thy self)
Thro' : from
Two mile : just over 3 km
Vast : a vast number, a lot
Watter-brewis : water-broth: water coloured with a little ground wheat, barley or (usually) oats
Weyvin'-shed : weaving mill
Wer : our
While : until
Wrowt : worked, wrought
Yelland : Elland (M)
- Money:
- 12 pence = 1 shilling; 20 shillings = 1 pound
- Curry:
- At two meetings held during the height of the famines in December, 1845, at Steyning and Arundel in Sussex, the Duke of Norfolk advised labourers that they should "a pinch of curry put into hot water", for, "if a man comes home, and has nothing better, it will make him warm and comfortable". He was much ridiculed and The Times predicted: "the noble cuisinnier will go down to posterity with a pinch of curry powder in his hand." Five years later in 1850, Robert Browning wrote in his poem, Easter Day, that faith might be:
Quite other than a condiment
To heighten flavours with, or meant
(Like that brave curry of his Grace)
To take at need the victual's place....
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