The Original Jone Grinfield

Says Jone to his wife on a hot summer’s day
Aw’m determined in Greenfield no longer to stay,
So aw’ll go to Owdham as fast as aw con,
So fare thee weel Greenfield, and fare thee weel Nan,
For a soldier I’st be in brave Owdham, I’st see,
And aw’ll have a battle with French.

Says my Aunt Margart I’d ne’er be so hot,
I’d ne’er go to Owdham in England I’d stop;
It matters nowt Margart a very weel know,
As’t me ‘er clem to death by someone shall know,
First Frenchman aw find, aw’ll tell him mi mind,
And if he’ll not fight let him run.

Dear Jone said ar Nan, and who bitterly cried,
Wilta be one oth foot or tha means for to ride,
Egad aw’ll either ride a ass or a mule,
I’ll naer stop i’Grinfield as black as a dule,
For we’re clemming & starving & never a fathing,
It’s enough to drive onny mon mad.

So aw went down the broo’ for we lived at th’ top
Aw swore awd reach Owdham afore e’re aw’d stop
Lord how’d they start’d when a geet to th’ Mumps,
Wi’ my hat i’ mi hond, and mi clogs full o’ stumps,
But very soon towd um that a were goin’ to Owdham.
An aw’d have a battle with French.

Whan aw’ geet into Owdham up street aw went,
A as’t recruit if he’d made up his keawnt,
He said, no, honest lad theaw talks like a king,
An if you’ll go wi mi thee aw will bring,
And if th’w art willing theaw may have a shilling,
I gad aw thawt that wur rare now.

He took me to the pleck where they measured their heaght,
And if they be length say sen nowt about weight,
A retched me’ an stretched mi and never flinch,
Egad he says lad theawrt mi height to an inch,
Thinks aw that’ll do aw’st have a guinea coat,
Egad Owdham brave Owdham for me.

Fare thee weel Grinfield to order am made,
Aw’ve getten new shoon an a rare Cockade,
Aw’ll fight for owd England as hard as a con,
Either French, Dutch or Spanish to me its all,
Aw’ll mak em to stare like a new startled hare,
An aw’ll tell um fro Owdham aw’m come.