The Yam Yam’s Tale

By Tiannah Viechweg

 

The dialect of the Black Country area remains perhaps one of the last examples of early English still spoken today. The word endings with 'en' (as in 'gooen' – going; callen – calling) and the pronunciation of the vowel 'A' as 'O' (as in sond – sand; hond – hand; and mon - man) are exactly as Chaucer's English was spoken.

 

The following prologue and tale is an actual story told by Steve, from West Bromwich, of the Ninelock Ordeal of March 1869, where thirteen miners became imprisoned in their working environment. I have created a Prologue and Tale, much like one of the stories in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales. I have used vocabulary from the Black Country Dialect to tell the story, so feel free to use the provided dictionary to translate any unfamiliar words (in the same way that you would if you they reading Canterbury Tales)

 

A “Yam Yam” is a colloquial term for someone who speaks in the Black Country Accent.

The Yam Yam’s Prologue
Worro you lot! Arm black country born and bred, and ar got one sayin, as did me mom and dad un their parents afower um…
Never put off till tomorrow what you can do today, cus if what you do today you wont ‘ave to do tomorrow….

 

The Yam Yam’s Tale
Some time ago, there was a rich old Gaffer,
With all of his money he was an ‘eck of a laffer.
"Lord of Iron", Earl of Dudley was his name,
And Coal, Iron, Gold, you name it was his game.
He owned Ninelock pit, at Brierley Hill,
But the Earl never dirtied his hands for his fittle
He had his own miners, who he sent down to the pit,
Day in and day out, as he saw it fit.
They worked for their food and slaved for their bread,
Hammering away, hard hats on their head,
Coughing and choking from the damp and the dust,
Slaving away for mere water and crust.
“Dry bread and bare bones” they called their wages,
Not enough money to feed men half their ages.
Nonetheless, they worked and did not complain,
When their muscles ached from digging, they dealt with the pain.

 

“No time for a brek, there’s digging and riggin to do,
Never leave till tomorrow what today you can do”.

On Tuesday, it started, as a Tuesday normally would,
Thirteen Miners went into the pit, all fine and all good,
But at the end of their shift, disaster had struck,
The shaft for water wouldn’t budge, it was stuck.
The miner’s looked round at one another unsure what to say,
They couldn’t be locked in the pit, there had to be a way.
The younger miners began to weep and yell,
“Is it all over?” They asked, none but time could tell.
George Skidmore took pity on the young lads,
And decided he’d give them all the food he had.
He called out “Little Joe Pearson, come over ere son,
And yer self Tommy Timmins, don’t fret little one.”
Little Tommy and Joe in disbelief cried “you coddin?
You can’t give us two your last bit o Noddin!”
Skidmore persisted and threw them the bread,
He din regret it neither for to them he said,
“Shove that in your Cakeholes, You young uns need it more,
Coz we are trapped in this mine, God knows how long for.
An you better eat it today, hurry up now and swallow,
You can do it today, so why wait till tomorrow.”

The days passed with the nights, for each were the same,
For the hours merged together in the poor light of a flame.
Food soon ran out and so did the flames,
Candles were eaten when the worst hunger came.
The darkness was blinding and the silence was so loud,
They found themselves cuthering, for warmth, in a crowd.
They sat like this for days, trapped for nigh a week,
And the silence got worse, for no one would spake.
As they waited and waited, there was soon one less breath,
For one of the miners was taken by Jeth.
Some blame the death on unlucky thirteen,
Ther’d been no deaths at all been they twelve or fourteen.
But if this is the case then why were they all not found dead,
Why not all thirteen and just one instead?
Because they were rescued by Black Country men, that’s right,
So the rescue effort continued all through the night,
No time for rest when men’s lives are at stake,
No time for tea, no time for a brek.

If they had taken one day extra the men would have not lived,
So it’s thanks to my motto that the twelve men survived.
The rescuers followed the Black Country way,
And they didn’t put off till tomorrow what they could do today.

The streets were filled with the clicking of clogs,
As the miners walked home, through the late fogs,
They went straight to their families, right away,
After all, why put off till tomorrow when you can see them today!

 

LINKS

For more on the Black Country dialect and its relationship to Old or Middle English, read our article on Tolkien’s Mordor, which will be fascinating for anyone who’s a fan of Lord of the Rings. Also, take a look at The Pilgrim’s Way, which takes a look at Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales topreserve a dialect which is not too dissimilar from that still spoken today in parts of the Black Country.