ArtWork of Ken Simm
ArtWork of Ken Simm

Mi Mam & The Curate.



Mi Mother wuz lookin all languid

She’d just come home from down t’pit

She’d taken er knittin and a nice cup o’ tea

To an armchair where she’d have a good sit.


She wuz sittin we’t feet up all comfortable like

When a noise came a’ bangin at door

“Oh now, what is that?” she said in a pet

And oe’r t’cat tripped full length on the floor.


Now the language it wuz kind o’ mucky

You’d never heard such things in your life

There wuz uffin and cussin and flamin and wot.

And the air you could cut with a knife.


There wuz effin and jeffin and language

That wud crimson a publicans ear

Til she opened the door and standin just there

Was the curate who’d just come to see her


Over a matter to do wit Women’s section

Of which she took such a pride

And the problems of which, she solve in a flash

Or else generally took all in her stride.


But this time she couldn’t for sake of it

Standin there all wet and drippin

All covered in tea and cat and stuff

Keepin Curate standin and sniffin


And all she could do in situations like this

Cos’ she wuz all oe’ercome and coy

Was shut door straight in’t young curates face

As they shouldn’t ave sent such a boy





To see her dishevelled and mucky and such

Whatever would women’s section all say

With her and her pinny and curlers wit language they’d heard

Her temper ud cause an affray



Now curate e’ left in a dudgeon

Which was wrong for a man of the cloth

And e’ stopped just in’t road, beside our front gate

and quietly dust himself off


Mi Mam ad just sat down for tea once again

When a commotion it started outside

She went to window to see what wuz up

In time to see a man runnin up t’drive


“Whatever’s to do?” she said opening door

She could see that the man he wuz shocked

And observed the man he wuz handsome and nice

Whilst at the same time straightenin her frock


The man he blurt out all at once

It wuz difficult to ere what e’ said

“There's been a terrible accident” he mumbled

“And I think your poor animals dead”


“Wot animals this,” said mi mother

Thinkin of the cat still inside

“Yer big dog all black wi a white collar”

After some moments the man he replied


“There no dog wi a collar ere” mi Mam said

“black, white nor any other”

“You’d best look again my young man

And your description it needs to be fuller”


“Oh no!” said the man lookin paler and shocked

It’s only just now that I’ve seen it

“What’s done wot is done and I’ll go straight to hell

Cos I’ve only just run oe’er curate!”

Our Stan & Doris and the bike ride.


Now our Stan he wuz givin a compass

Of which he was inordinately proud

He could tell at glance which direction wuz best

And he wuz not just going all round and round


He liked a good walk did our Stanley

And often wuz seen up in t’ills

On’t weekend you cud see fer miles and miles

with views t’make yer heart fill.


Now our Doris is wife wuz quite different

And didn’t quite share in Stans passion

She restricted herself to making is bit

With butties like to go out o’t fashion


So whilst e wuz out in all weathers

Our Doris she remained stay at home

She did all is mendin and cleanin and such

So folk didn’t gossip bowt their home


Trouble is Doris wuz bored

With spreadin and dustin ant like

So she thought for a change of t’scenery

She’d go fer a ride on Stan’s bike


She brought bike right out o’garage

An down t’roadside she went

Where some workers were workin an diggin some oles

Makin road good fer all as paid rent


Now she knew that Stan wuz up in is ill’s again

Although she did not know quite where

So she made up some butties and crisps and some pop

And adjusted bike seat wi some care


For now she had quite a problem

As her frock wuz obviously too tight

So she altered the length, pulled up oe’er er knees

Til the hem seemed just bout right


But she still couldn’t get on’t bike you see

Cos the cross bar it got in the way

And no matter she fiddled and fussed wi er frock

She liked to be there all day.

Much to the joy of the workmen

Who were avin much fun wi this show

Till she pulled them a face and stuck out er tongue

It were cheek but she knew they wud know


Then she ad inspiration

A knife to frocks seams she wud take

And then on’t bike she would be off

A’ followin straight in Stan’s wake


But this did not work as an action

It was fiddly and not very bright

For no sooner she’d cocked er leg up all lady like

She’d got a great tear in er tight


Removing said items whilst sittin on’t kerb

Caused such a fuss and palava

That it caused workmen t’laugh and neighbours curtains to twitch

When Doris she’d sooner they’d neither.


Now before eed gone out that mornin

Stan ad oiled is chain good an proper

Trouble is, it ad dripped and spread everywhere

An Doris ad come such a cropper


Cos she’d sat in the oil pool

As it lay and sun wuz an ot un

Now feelin quite wet Doris then checked

findin now she ad a slick bottom


Things were not going well for our Doris

In trying to go for her ride

She wuz all to give up and call it a day

Instead of takin all in er stride


Er clothes they were dirty and torn

Her legs they were slimy and wet

She must a thought it all over an finished

Until she saw the best yet


For walking up road came our Stanley

A’ whistlin and stridin is best

When all of a sudden e saw Doris

Sittin as if takin a rest



Now wot be you doin quoth Stanley

A’ sittin side o’t road like a tramp

You’ll be getting folk talkin and callin us names

As well as makin yer backside quite damp


Well Doris would ave non o’ this

And listin to port with a sigh

Picked up yon bike ant threw it at Stan

Who caught it mid air with a cry


Bike an Stan both fell over back int road

Just as steamroller went past

Tragedy then struck as roller went oe’er bike

And Stan in whose hands it were clasped


Oh no shouted workmen an Doris

An neighbours ran out in a shock

For the workmen had just laid their tarmac

An Doris ad sorted er frock


For Stan wuz flat as a pancake

An’t bike it wuz fairly destroyed

An the moral to this sad tale Is keep things as they are

Not to change them is to keep them enjoyed

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© ArtWork of Ken Simm