Owd Putty's Race Poem by William Baron

Yo may talk abeawt Growcot, or Postle, or Day,
As runners o' fame an' reneawn ;
But if Owd Billy Putty mun pick his own track,
He could tek everyone on 'em deawn.
To see him, yo'd think him too brossen to walk,
But, folks, what aw'm tellin' yo's true;
He won a big wager a week or two back,
An' he's th' champion o' Wardle'oth Broo.

He weighs fourteen scooar, or a peawnd or two mooar,
An' he's welly as broad as he's long;
But for o 'at he carries so mich on his booans,
Owd Putty's booath nimble an' strong.
It's seldom 'at ever yo'll catch him i' th' dumps,
For he's allus good tempered, an' free;
An' so long as he's plenty o' bacca an' ale,
He's as happy as mortal con be,

One Setterda' neet he wur up at Owd Kit's,
Among what they co' th' noisy crew;
They wur talkin' o'er things 'at they knew nowt abeawt,
An' braggin' o' what they could do.
Then young Bob-o'-Ruchut's jumped up, an' bawled eawt;
' Aw'll run onybody i'th' place
For five or ten peawnd, an' they'st hev th' choice o' greawnd,-
Come, which on yo's on for a race ? '

' Dunnot thee talk so fast theer,' Owd Putty chimed in,
'Aw'll run thee misel for five peawnd,
If theaw’ll give me three yards eawt o' fifty,' he sed,
' But theaw knows, aw shall want th' choice o' greawnd.'
Put's offer wur snapped up bi Bob reet away,
For he reckoned on hevin' him sweet ;
An' Putty wur looked on as nowt but a foo',
When he staked up his wager th' same neet.


At th' Monda' they met to decide this greyt race,
An' Putty cried, ' Come on wi' me !'
Sooa Bob an' his pals followed on close behynt,
An' wondered wheer th' race hed to be.
Put took 'em o'er th' brig, an' he went knockin' on,
Into one o' th' bye-streets just at th' top,
Till at th' finish he coom to a long entry-end,
An' theer Putty med a full stop.

' This here's wheer aw'm runnin',' he sed wi' a grin,
' Theaw knows, aw'd to pick mi own greawnd;
An' aw'm dashed if aw see wheer theaw hes ony chonce
O' tekkin' away that five peawnd.
Aw'st hev o mi wark on to squeeze misel throo,
An' as theaw hes to start behynt me,
It seems varra plain, if aw nobbut walk deawn,
'At aw'm teed to reych th' tape afore thee.''

Bob owned he wur licked, an' he gav' up at once
When he seed heaw his case rayley stood;
An' his heart wurn't as leet as his pocket that neet,
But he looked up as weel as he could.
And mony a time, when ther's nowt gooin' on,
Yo con raise smiles on every face,
If yo'll nobbut drop into Owd Kit's as yo pass,
An' just mention Owd Putty's Race.