Muddlecombe Club Walk



They zay that vokes witch lives een towns
Enjoys thurzels var more
Than wat us vokes een kontry du,
But I baint quite zo zure.
I make no doubt but wat they ’aves
More 'ollerdays than us;
Us ant got zo much time as they,
To zot up sitch a vuss;
Way Whit-Mondy an’ Boxin’ Day,
Bank ’ollerdys an’ aul
(Zay next o’ closin’ wance a wik),
They never works ’tarl.
A ’ollerdy’s no trate to they;
Gaw dally; don’ ’e talk,
Tu zee amewsment yu shid go
Tu Muddlecombe Club Walk.

Tes ony wance a year et koms
(Not very offen s’know),
An’ vat an’ lean, een rain or sheen
Aul takes thur pleasure tho.
Aul work be stap pin thiky day,
An’ vokes vor miles around
Be up thik mornin’ vor they goes
Anywhere, yu may be bound.
An’ young an’ old, an’ rich an’ pore
Lukes vorrad tu the day,
An’ makes thur way tu Muddlecombe on
Tha Twenty-ninth o’ May.

Amongs’ tha maids an’ wimmen voke
Vor weeks tes aul tha talk,
’Bout wat new frock they’m gwain tu wear
Tu Muddlecombe Club Walk.
Tha chillern woords thur ’appence up,
Vor all the year avore;
A bit o’ vairin’ they must ’ave
Eef they be e’er zo pore.
An’ ole Aunt Zally—they mus’ ’ave
A draw or tu, ta thik.
Cuse, ev’ry chap mus’ try tu hat
A nit off vrom the stick.

“Tes time tu walk,” zes Uncle Tom,
“Come, eef you’m gwain tu volley,
Jim Tozer’s paying dividen’s,
My ayes ’ow ’e doth olley.
Thur goes tha drums, tha vlags be up.
Tha band be gwain tu play;
Thur’s ony passon now tu kom,
Tho us wull start away.
Now passon’s yer, an’ squire as well,
An’ doctor tu, I zee;
Varl eentu line, old up yer hades,”
Tha drums goes wan, tu, dree.

An’ way-da-go like sojers bowld
Way hades up een tha air,
An’ vit tarned out, a noble zite
Tu zee, I du declare.
An’ tho us walk-ed tu tha church,
An’ ’old a zarvice thair
(Zum be vor doin’ away wi’ thik;
Mezel, I likes tha prayer).
Zum zes tha prayer doan’ du no gude;
Wull, et doan’ du no ’arm,
I likes vokes tu enjoy thurzels,
But let’s kape up tha Zalm.

Wall, arter prayer us walk-id ’gean
(Volks komed een crowds tu zee),
Back tu tha mead crass yander
Whur tha lunch wiz gwain tu be.
My ayes! tha booth us aves et een,
Tha like yu never zee;
Twid ’old vive ’under’d voke zot down,
They carls an a markee.
An’ thair tha tables wiz laid out
Way plate an’ knive an’ vork;
Aw ees, us do’s things vitty like
Tu Muddlecombe Club Walk.

But vurst o’ aul, us aul ztan’s up
While passon zays tha graze,
But zune’s ever thik be done
Us varls ta work apaze.
My ayes an’ lims, wat rounds o’ bafe,
Wat ligs o’ mutton, Jan;
I thort I never shid a-stap
Whane wance I ’ad began.
Tha smarles’ ’am kom off a pig
Up twenty score, I think,
An’ splendid zider car-ied round,
Jiss wat yu mind tu drink.

An’ whane us aul ’ad ’ad our vull,
Or zo tha cheerman thort
(Though I yeered Dan’l zay ’e shid
A-liked anuther quart;
E’d ’ad but zix, or zem at least),
’E ’ammered way ees knive,
An’ zo us aul ztude up agean,
Thanks vor tha mate tu give.
An’ tho zum zpiches wiz a-made,
Zum zhart an’ tuthers long.
I carn tull jiss wat twaz about,
That zider waz zo strong.

Then arterwards us med our way
Voor tu tha market plaace,
Tu ’ave a bit o’ vairin’ zoce
Or hat ole Krujer’s vaace,
Or on tha ole stame circus ride;
’Tis vun tu luke about;
I baint much vor they zwingin’ boats,
I’m veared o’ tummellin’ out.
Be-as-twull, whane us aul got ’ome
Twiz later than us thort,
An’ I mus’ zay, that aul nex’ day
Us wadden vit vor nort.



Our Club Walk



They say that volks what lives in towns
Enjoys theirzels far more
That what us contry-bumkins do,
But I bant quite so sure.
I daun’ deny but what they haves
More ollerdys than us;
Us ab’m got the time to spare
To zot up sitch a fuss.
With Whit-Mondy an’ Boxin’ Day,
Bank Ollerdys and all,
(Say nort o’ closin’ wance a wik)
They never works ’t all.
A ollerdy’s no trait to they,
Caw, dally; daun’ ’ee talk!
To zee amusement you shude come
To Muddlecome Club Walk.

Tis aunly wance a year it comes
(Not very auf’n s’know),
And vat an’ lean in rain or sheen
All takes their pleasure tho. [then]
All work be stopped ’pon thikky day,
An’ all the vokes indoors
Be down-about as soon’s tis light
To do away the chores.
For young an’ old, an’ rich an’ poor,
Looks vorrad to the day,
And vinds their way to Muddlecome
The Twenty-ninth o’ May.

Amongs’ the maids an’ women-voke
Per weeks tis all the talk
What colour frock they’m gwain to wear
To Muddlecome Club Walk.
The chillern woards their ’appence up
Fer weeks an’ months bevore,
A bit o’ fairing they must have
If they be e’er so poor.
Cou’se ev’ry chap must try to hit
A nit off from the stick;
An’ ole Aunt Sally—they must heng
A baal or two to thik.

“Tis time to walk” says Uncle Tom
“Come if you’m gwain to volly,
Jim Tozer’s payin’ dibidends,
My ayes how he dith holley.
There goes the drums, the flags be up,
The band be gwain to play,
There’s aunly passen now to come,
Then us can get away.
Aw! Passen’s yer, an’ squire as well,
An’ doctor too I zee,
Vall into line, old up yer haids—”
The drums goes wan, two, dree.

An’ ’way-da’ go like sawjers bold
With haids up in the air,
An’ veet turned out, a noble sight
To zee, I do declare.
An’ so us walkid to the church
To hold a sarvice there.
Some be for doin’ ’way wi’ thik,
Mezell, I likes the prayer.
Some says the prayer daun’ do no gude;
Wull, it daun’ do no ’arm,
I likes volks to injoy theirzells
But let’s keep up the zalm.

An’ arter prayer us walkid ’gain;
Volks come in crowds to see.
Back to the mead be’ind the skule
Where lunch was gwain to be.
My, what a booth they haves it in,
The like you never zee,
Twude ’old vive hundred volk zot down,
They caals ’en a markee.
And there the tables was laid out
With plate an’ knive an’ vork,
Aw, now! Us do things viddy-like
To Muddlecome ' Club Walk.

But fust of all us all stan’s up
While passen saith the graze;
But soon as ever thik be done
Us vaals to work a-paze.
My ayes an’ limbs, what rounds o’ bafe,
What ligs o’ mutton Jan!
I simmed I never shude’n stap
Wance properly began.
They brings round braid an’ tetties too
In dishes made o’ cloam,
But us don't waste no room on they;
There's braid an’ tetties ’ome.

An’ whane us all had had our full,
Or so the cheerman thort,
(Though Dan’l said o’ cider he
Cude drinked another quart,
He’d had but zix, or zeb’m at laiste).
The cheerman knacked his knive,
An’ wance again us all stood up,
Thanks fer the meat to give.
An’ then they spaichified a bit,
One arter tother came,
Us did’n knaw what twas about,
But cheered ’em all the same.

An’ then us goes around the field
To have a bit o’ fun,
An’ try to get a coco-nit
An’ laugh at they with none.
Or on the ’obby ’osses ride;
I likes the round-about,
But ban’t much fer they swingin’ boats
I’m feared o’ tummellin’ out.
An’ then with dance an kiss-in ring
Us keeps it up till dark,
To bade, arf-dade, wi’ a Club Walk hade
An’ up, fresh as paint, with the lark.


The third edition has been updated--the "Krujer" [Stephanus Johannes Paulus "Paul" Kruger, 10 October 1825 – 14 July 1904) disappears! The Boer War was over in 1902.

A bit bowdlerised too. "An’ I mus’ zay, that aul nex’ day/ Us wadden vit vor nort." becomes "An’ up, fresh as paint, with the lark.".

There is NO EXCUSE for Muddlecome instead of either Muddlecoombe or Muddlecombe. "A combe (/kuːm/; also spelled coombe or coomb and, in place names, comb) Wikipedia, sub Combe."

The third edition sometimes adds an aspirate where it does not belong: the dialect does not have it. Though it has ’obby ’osses (instead of First/Second "ole stame circus ride"), we have all had had instead of aul ’ad ’ad. Perhaps it is an attempt to make them look less "uneducated", but reduces the authenticity. On the other hand, the first and second editions are wrong to put in a (') as if there was an elision! This also suggests a deviation from "proper speech" that Cock The biographer)says Coles ("Jan Stewer") wished firmly to deny. (Shall we blame the publisher??)

The all [3rd] / aul [1,2] but offen [1,2] / auf'n [3rd] are interesing. See, too, ant and ab'm.