Wardley Miner's Verses tell of "The Shiftin" Trick

North country pitmen of the last century were a race apart in dress, speech and customs. They were a hardy people who got much enjoyment out of life - there is no doubt however, that poverty was their common lot. Many of the necessities of existence were bought on the "never-never", and the "ticketman" was a frequent caller in all mining villages.
William Dunbar of Wardley Colliery lived and laboured in these difficult times. Gifted with the ability to put his thoughts and observations into printed words, he has left us many poems and stories in rhyme which reveal the happenings of yesterday. His story, "The Shiftin"," that is moving from one house to another, is worth reprinting in full. It tells how a miner's wife was persuaded into buying things her husband could not afford, and how her crafty partner solved his problems.  Click here to see a few other pages from the 1874 volume.

The Shiftin
"Within six miles from the banks of coaly Tyne
There dwells a pitman (Davy) nowise fine:
"Reckless" his motto seemed, and without care,
Free was his manner, jolly everywhere.
The wife, a counterpart of Dave himself,
Unheeding went regardless as to self.
One day a hawker, who, for fancy shawls
Took payment by instalments, at Dave's calls;
To Davy's wife the shawls were laid on view,
And half-a-crown each pay she thought might do.
The tempting offer she could not refrain;
The price was asked, and named at two pounds ten.

She bought it seemingly with fair intent,
Paid half-a-crown, inquiring when he meant
To call again; said he, 'I'll be this way
And look you up a fortnight say today.'
Pleased with his success, bade 'Good-bye' and went
With pack the lighter, and a heart content.
Scarce had he left the door when, without knock.
A voice was heard, 'Ma'am' does you want a clock?
As good a clock as ever can be found.'
No!' says Dave's wife. 'aw divvent want a one.'
'Vell, vell,' says he, 'but then you hassint none;
So I vill just hang dis tree pound one here,
And ve vill see how it vill go, my dear;
Den if you tink the clock does go alright,
I'll call again on you in von fortnight.'
Aall reet,' said Davy's wife, 'then hing'd up ther,
If ye will be see, I can say ne mair.'

No sooner said than done he bade "Goot-py.'
And left the clock for Davy's wife to try.
When Davy heard the bargains she had made.
He vowed that not a happinee should be paid.
'But boo, though,' says his wife, 'can we get clear?'
'As ken,' says Dave, 'a trick or two that's queer.
To money, shawl and clock they've said ta-ta.
So just had ye yor tongue, and syun ye'll knaa.'

Now when the day came round they had to call
To seek instalments for the clock an' shawl,
Dave stayed from work, and told his wife to put
The shutters up, to have the door close shut,
To stay inside, and keep the children still
And very, very quiet like, until
He let her know that she had nought to fear.
That both the men had gone, the coast was clear.
And then some straw the ground he scattered round,
Until it nearly covered all the ground,

And then sat down to have a quiet smoke.
With keen anticipation of the joke.
Not long he waited until up came one.
Who scanned the house, saw Dave, said 'Hi, maw mon!
Are these guid folk no wakin', yet, or what?'
'Wakin" says Davy, 'man it isn't that;
Thoo muun be daft te think they're sleepin, yit,
The folk hev shifted tiv another pit.

The straw that's layin' here an louse aboot
Shud tell thee that wivoot a bit o' doot."
'Then,'says the man, 'Where did the folk gan to?
De ye not nathin' ken where they may be?'
'Aw dinnit1' Davy says, except aw hear
They've gven a varry lang to wear.'
'Then,' says the man. 'Mow two pun ten's a'right.
Aw never dreamt o'gettin' sic a bite.'
'What, two pun ten!' says Davy; 'Man that's nowt,
Thor's lots as bad as that, an' worse or owt.'
The man dumfounded, Davy heard him say
That he would come around no more that way.

Scarce had he been more than ten minutes gone
When up to Davy comes the other one,
Looked at the house, say, 'Mister, vat is dis?
Are people sleepin, or vat is amiss?'
'Sleepin,' says Davy, 'hinney no, not them,
They/ve left for good to find another hyem.'
'Vat's dat you're saying?' screamed the German Jew.
'They've gven.' says Dave, 'an' that's eneuf for thoo.'
'Moses, my clock! my clock!' exclaimed the Jew.
'Vere, tell me were, is my tree poind gone to?'
'Tha three-pund clock!' says Davy, 'had thee jaa,
It's just a fleebite if thoo wad but naa.'

'Vell,' say the Jew, 'but tell me vere they are.'
'Come,' Davy says, 'thoo's gannin' ower far;
Aw dinnit git a haud the hawf thoo says,
But weel aa ken thaa jookree-powkree ways.'
'Vell,' says the Jew, 'but tell me vote they are.'
'They've gyen frae here,' says Davy, 'ower far
For thoo te hunt them oot, so had away;
Three pund frae Jew te Christin's nowt no day!'

The Jew began to grumble, turned around,
And walked away with eyes cast on the ground.
The hawker never came that way again;
That it proved a caution was quite plain.
So Davy said, and as they did not call,
Dave sold the clock and Dolly wore the shawl."

William Dunbar, the writer of these amusing lines, who died February 23, 1874, spent most of his life as a Miner. He worked for a while as a painter and glazier in Gateshead, and as a Cartwright in Felling; most of his short life, however, was spent in the mines. Dunbar's verse found its way into the columns of the local Press, but it was not until after his death that they were published in volume form. Click here to see a few pages from the 1874 volume.
I wonder if members of his family still live at Wardley?

"The newspaper cutting and the works of William Dunbar were supplied by Margaret O'Neill of Wardley"