Educatin’ Peter.


I’ll tell thee a tale of a tackler,

who were known to ‘is mates as “Owd Pete”.

Not reight inter-lect-urly gifted,

burras pleasant a mon as you’d meet.


In t’factry it were common knowledge,

that whatever job Peter were found.

If’ a short cut were quicker to do it,

no doubt t’lad’d tek long way round.


He were workin’ one day on a roller,

it were soon far too damaged t’mend,

but t’new un from t’stores, it were 3 foot too long.

So he lopped 18 inch off each end.


A lass who on t’looms ad bin strugglin’

were findin’ it ‘ard to get t’knack,

towd Peter ‘er weft were all snarlin.’

“Don’t bi soft lass” said Peter “snarl back.”


T’Mill manager knew about Peter.

an’ some o’ t’mistakes ‘e ‘ad med.

So to keep ‘im ‘ands off o t’machine’ry

He put ‘im “in charge” over t’shed.


'is  Boiler suit weren't the apparel

befittin' our mon's new position.

for in 'is t' Sunday best  attired

Pete favvered a mortician.


So he purchased two suits an’ a bowler,

three shirts an’ necktie that match'd

Some lasses in th’office remarked he looked smart.

an’ for someone he’d mek a good catch.


Pete were suited to ‘is new position,

for a managers job he were med.

He could stroll up an’ down wi’ a clipboard

lookin’ serious an’ noddin’ iz ‘ead.


Well one o’ t’young lasses who said he looked well,

her feelin’s she truly ‘ad voiced.

So one afternoon when he went on ‘is rounds,

she cornered “Owd Peter” in t’hoist.


He froze like a statue in t’corner,

overcome wi’ ‘er womanly charms.

He couldn’t resist t'raw passion she showed

an’ besides she ‘ad bloody strong arms.


When t’courtship were into its third or fourth week

To “Owd Pete” Mary Agnes did say.

“I think you’ll agree that so far we’re well matched

So I’ve booked t’church proceedings for May”.


He were taken aback for a moment or two

But as soon as he’d gathered ‘is breath.

Said “You’ve just made a weddin’ proposal,

sound more like a sentence to death”.


Weddin’ band he were off fost to purchase,

sayin’ only the best gowd’ll do.

When t’jeweller asked “eighteen carat”,

Pete said “No, chewin bacca you foo’!”


The weddin’ were quite an occasion

At t’do all o’ t’fact’ry showed up

So wi’ t’relatives t’crowd were far bigger

Than Burnley ‘d managed in t’cup.


At t’reception pale ale flowed like water

Which I’m sad to say lead to some feights.

Mary-agnes’ granma ran off wi’ t’best mon

And t’bridesmaids were swingin’ on t’leights.


To Pete, Mary Agnes were cultured

So for t’honeymoon what they had sorted

Were historical tours of t’lakes an’ beyond?

Pete’s suggestion o’ Blackpoo’ were thwarted.


Well she didn’t want Pete to look stupid,

When on t’tours there were questions to ask.

She’d thoughtfully pack in ‘er luggage some books,

Which to read would be Pete’s nightly task.


He’d bin anticipatin’ this ‘unnymoon job

sin’ at th’alter ‘is vows he ‘ad took

So he knew he’d bi pickin’ up knowledge o’ course,

but not wi’ ‘is ‘ead in a book


 Fost day o’ their trip they were standin,’

in a medda not far from Gras-mere

When the guide pointed out some enormous grey stones,

askin’ “ How dusta think they got ‘ere?”


“A glass-ear fotched ‘em” said peter

hopin’ points wi’ ‘is bride he could score.

But the guide carried on, “Where’s the glass-ear now?”

Pete replied. “Has it gone for some more?”


Mary Agnes went red as an owd Darwen tram,

but decided to not make a fuss

when Peter said sheepishly what ‘ave I done,

snapped shuddup an’ ged on the bus.


They’d bin ridin’ in silence for ages

Peter wondered ‘ow long it would last.

When a loud crunch announced that the ‘charra’,

underneath a low bridge were stuck fast.


Well they piled out o’ t’bus t’see t’damage,

it were jammed an’ the thing wouldn’t move.

Said a mon walkin past wi’ a whippet

“I’ve a plan if your driver approves”.


Passer-by offered up ‘is suggestion

“It might ‘elp to end your ordeal,

let some air out o’ t’tyres”…but Peter jumped in

“It’s t’roof that’s got fast not its wheels!”


Wi’ th’elp o’ that mon an’ his whippet

their ‘charra’ were free an’ away.

Driver towd ‘em they’d soon bi in Durham

and it were t’be last stop o’ t’day.


As they rolled up to Durham cathedral,

asked t’guide who on t’front seat were perched.

“Can anyone tell mi the three types o’ windo’

we can all see on t’front o’ this church?”


When nobody answered “owd Peter” chipped in

it were fost time sin’ t’bridge that he’d spokken

“There is, if I follo’ your meanin’” he said

“Some oppen, some shut an’ some brokken!”


 Mary Agnes were glad when the jaunt were all o’er

an’ they got back to t’digs to relax,

she realised Pete were a simplistic chap

an’ not to be trusted wi’ facts.


At home wi’ their honeymoon ended,

Peters edification were scrapped.

If ‘is brain of pure dy-no-mite ‘ad bin composed,

he’d ‘ave struggled to blow off ‘is cap!