Northumbrian verse. Pills for All Ills

 

By Donald Clegg

Don entered this verse in the Morpeth competition for dialect poetry - and won the cup for a second year along with other awards.

Don Clegg with his cup and other wards for Northumbrian dialect verse

 Aa went to the doctor’s on Monda, Aa thowt Aa was gettin’ the flu,

Aa was gannin’ cowld an’ hot, an’ coffin’ a lot. When Aa got there he says, ‘How de do’?

He says, ‘If yo’re ill Aa’ll give ye a pill’. So he did. Aa said ‘Thanks’. It was BLUE.

Aa went to the doctor’s on Tuesda. Aa hev a job gettin’ about,

It might be rheumatics or an ingrown toenail, or corns, or summat, or gout’,

When Aa got to the car it was rainin’, so Aa thowt Aa’d tek me umbrella.

Doc says, ‘By, ye look ill, Aa’d bettor give ye a pill’.  An’ he did. Aa said,’Thanks’. It was YELLA.

Aa went to the doctor’s on Wensda, Aa hed sic an ache in me arm.

It’s a mystery to me, but Aa think it must be, years ago, muckin’ oot on the farm,

It was the same canny doctor. He says, ‘Nuw just let’s hev a wee think’

Aa’ll give ye a pill, then ye’ll not feel ill.” So he did. Aa said, ‘Thanks’. It was PINK

Aa went to the doctor’s on Thorsda. Me heed was achin’ and sare

Aa’d been on the pop (didn’t know when to stop). Aa’ve nivvor felt like it afore,

The doc wasn’t that sympathetic. He asked, If Aa’d  been on the town,

Yo’re boond to feel ill, but Aa’ll give ye a pill.  An’ he did. Aa said, ‘Thanks’. It was BROWN.

Aa went to the doctor’s on Frida. Me wattor works aal of a twist

Aa’d not been to the loo for a day or two -Aa’d give owt to gan oot and git p.........d (put right).

‘By heck’! says the doc. ‘Ye must hev some kind o’block, it’s the warst Aa’ve seen aal this summer’.

‘But if yo’re feelin’ see ill, Aa’ll not give ye a pill, here’s a note for Jack Nixon, the plumber’.

Aa was back at the doctor’s on Satdy. He was theor as Aa went through the door

He says, ‘Hello, me good man, you divn’t look vary grand. Let me think - have I seen you before’?

‘Aa just think ye have’, was me sarky reply. ‘Aal this med’cin ye think such a boon’,

‘Aa’ve had that mony pills, Aa’m fed up to the gills, an’ rattle when Aa jump up and doon’.

But noo Aa’m aal sorted and fit as a lop. Ivvry mornin’ Aa gan for a run

Aa play footbaal, gan bikin’ an’ swimmin’ and such so Aam hevin’ nee end of gud fun,

So here’s to the doctors that keep us alive an’ save us from aal kinds of stress.

Cos Aa sometimes fear, Aa just wadn’t be here, if it warn’t for the NHS.

But as we get owlder and faalin’ apart, we suffer from aal sorts of ills

So in case wor good doctor’s not able to come, Aa’ve still got me box full of pills.

Donald Clegg (Aad Wattie)