Th' History o' Haworth Railway

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Bill o'th' Hoylus End. Th' History o' Haworth Railway

PREFACE TO THE TENTH EDITION

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

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The Author of this well-known, amusing, and celebrated pamphlet was born on the 22nd March, 1836, at a place midway between Keighley and Haworth, called Hoylus End in a simple cottage near the Whins Delf, at the terminus of the quaint old hamlet known as Hermit Hole, in the Parish of Bingley. He began early in life to write songs and uncouth rhymes, and even as a boy He wrote satires so caustic that they are remembered even to the present day.

However, the Haworth Railway cropped up, and this found him ample food for his pen; and as this is the Tenth Edition of the work it is clear that it is still in popular favour.

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Well, hasumever, public notice wur made nawn, bi th’ bellman crying it all ower th’ tawn, which he did to such a pitch wal he’d summat to do to keep his hat fra flying off, but he managed to do it at last to a nicety, for th’ news spread like sparks aat of a bakehouse chimla; an’ wen th’ day come they flockt in fra all parts, sum o’th crookt-legg’d ens fra Keighla com, Lockertown and th’ Owertown foak com, and oud bachelors fra Stanbury and all parts at continent o’ Haworth; foak craaded in on all sides, even th’ oud men an’ wimen fra Wicken Crag an’ th’ Flappeters, an’ strappin’ foak they are yo mind, sum as fat as pigs, wi’ heeads as red as carrits, an’ nimble as a india-rubber bouncer taw; an’ wat wur th’ best on’t it happened to be a fine day; or if it hed been made accordin’ to orders it cudent a been finer. Shops wur all closed, an’ everybody, oud an’ young hed a haliday aat o’th’ doors, for they were all flade o’ missin’ th’ Grand Proceshun, which formed itseln at th’ top o’ Wuthren, when it wur messured it turned aat to be two miles six inches long – it moved as follows: —

Th’ Railway wur i’ iverybody’s maath, wat wi singin’ an’ shaatin’, them ’at cud do northur wisper’d in one anuther’s ears – Railway. But gettin’ to whear th’ ceremuny wur to tak place, th’ proceshun halted an’ formed itseln into a raand ring, an’ cheers wur geen wi’ shakin’ hats an’ handkerchiefs, which lasted wal thair showders an’ arms warked wal they’d hardly strength to shut thair maaths an’ don thair hats on. But hasumever they managed to get reight agean, an’ then a parson call’d Ned Oufield gat up an’ made th’ following narashun —

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