Mike Jenkins - Welsh Poet & Author
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ORRIGHT?

12/6/2010

20 Comments

 
   Accent and dialect have always been fundamental to my writing and life in general, though I'm not entirely sure where this originates.

   The comedian Michael MacIntyre has a great skit where he combines all his talent for observation, body-humour and mimicry. He describes how a journey across the 'country' ( he means England) produces the curious phenomenon of moving from a broad West Country 'Orrrrigh?' through a genteel Home Counties 'Hello!', to an equally thick East Anglian accent 'Orrrrigh?' again.

   My early childhood journey from Aberystwyth to Cambridge was quite a shock. Arriving at the city with a strong Cardi accent I hated the piss-taking and soon fitted in, though never quite adopted the strangulated Cockney of the working-class of that university city. While walking to school, one boy greeted me every day by calling out 'Watcha mate!'. I was convinced it was a threat, just by the sound of it  (I was certain he'd said 'Watch it!'). I never replied. He must have thought me stuck up.

   My first real awareness of dialect combined with a distinctive accent came when we moved to the village of Horseheath, on the edge of Cambridgeshire. The burrs and deeply-rounded vowels were reminiscent of my grandparents hint of  the Somerset where they both grew up. I made friends there from all classes, from the rector's son to farm and factory workers (I played for a local factory footie team). Their voices reflected the rolling chalk hills and densely packed barley fields. My brother - a student at Cambridge at the time - dismissed the accent I'd willingly taken on, with.... 'You sound just like a bumpkin!' 

   The same level of revelation came when I went to live in the town of my other grandparents, Barry. It wasn't really until I took a gap year to work at two garages there, that I came to terms with its accent. Working alongside pump attendants and mechanics I listened intently to them and soon my voice echoed theirs. I wasn't conscious much of dialect though, apart from the ubiquitous phrases such as 'good as gold!'

   One pump attendant with a very strong accent was virtually indecipherable, but I loved his cynicism and contempt for customers with their posh cars. His squeezed and extended vowels were especially harsh, so he sounded like a human crow with his 'Whaaaaaaat?' In retrospect, it was like a mockery of the Cardiff accent.

   Belfast was something else. Although me and my wife actually lived near Ballymena, we spent every weekend in Belfast and her accent and dialect were steeped in the Falls Road. I was fascinated by its richness and the fact that certain phrases were only used by the Catholic/nationalist/republican people : one being 'smile like a goat a-hanging' , which refers to the Puck Fair, where a goat is raised high as king. Most of the phrases, however, crossed the great divide, such as 'wee toady' (very small) and 'skrake of dawn'(early in the morning).

   Belfast has never left me. I still use words like 'banjaxed' (meaning not functioning ) to the utter bewilderment of those around me outside my home. Ironically, I refused to speak at all when travelling in the black taxis of the Falls; afraid to arouse suspicion. The next year we moved to W.Germany and the irony was compounded by the fact that one fellow teacher of EFL dubbed me - 'the Belfast Welshman'. My weird amalgam of East Anglia/Barry/Belfast must have baffled the ear.

   Merthyr has had the most profound impact on my work and my consciousness. In a tough Comp. the dialect was a tool of survival. When you were called 'Angin!' , you needed to know the degree of insult! I was interested to find the influence of the Welsh language as well, not just on the vocabulary (words like 'cwtch' and 'twti down'), but on the nature of the dialect, with its adherence to flow and sound. Instead of the exact 'going up the mountain', you have the running 'goin up-a mountain', much like mutations in Welsh.

   I remember a review of my book of stories 'Wanting To Belong', written by a Rhondda writer.who questioned my use of 'wuz' and 'woz' as unnecessary. Yet, while it may not exist in the Rhondda, this features 'round yer', with the shorter 'wuz' and longer 'woz' both prevalent.

   Though I definitely do not talk with a Merthyr accent, I use the greeting 'Orrigh?' all the time. I recall a particularly pretentious Deputy Head who always insisted on replying to this with - 'Yes, I'm fine Michael....and you?'
Moreover, there is always a voice in my head which drops all its 'h's' and 'g's from endings to perfection.


                                      DANGEROUS NET

My mate Jazz said -
'I don' wanna be funny but.....
ave yew an yewer missis split?'

'Not that I know of,' I replied,
'unless she aven  tol me summin.'

'Coz this woman I know
she comes up t me an sayz......
yewer fren, y'know, tha poet.....
well, ee've goh a profile on 'is website
www.findadate.com.'

'Well , it's not me, defnitlee.
Mus be the other Mike Jenkins,
American footballer, there's a whool website
jest dedicated to is girlfren's.'
'No, it woz yew! Ee int from Merthyr!'

My mate Jazz said -
'It's amazin what gets put on-a net....
las week this woman up-a road phones up.
'Yew orright, Jazz?' she sayz,
'coz someone seen on tha intynet
tha yew woz dead!'
20 Comments
pussycat
1/26/2011 06:46:47 am

am I allowed to use such lower-middle-teenage terms such as "Lush??" Coz it is! My late and dearly beloved mother-in-law was from Bannbridge, and was wont to say stuff like "away with the mixer" instead of "daft" "poor wee snipey" instead of ?????!
As for accents, my work takes me out and about, and I have covered areas from Neath down to Kidwelly, and the accent actually changes every 8-9 miles or so. It is possible to distinguish between the Swansea and Gorseinon accent quite easily! And as for Llanelli, well it is the epitome of all harmonies!!

Reply
Andrea
7/26/2012 02:30:56 pm

Looking for something my mother use to say to us at bedtime. Her moms parents were Scottish immigrants in the nineteens... It went something like this... Poor wee snipey, came home all wet and drukid, callee callee callee ( as she stroked then patted our cheeks...

Reply
Peter
12/5/2013 04:14:03 am

Poor wee snipey, was out all night (said while drawing childs hands across their face with your own) Got all wet and muddy, cock-up-al-lugs. (Last part patting child's hands own their or your own face)

Reply
Paige link
2/5/2014 07:01:58 pm

Thanks for another informative web site. Where else could I get that kind of info written in such a perfect way? I have a project that I am just now working on, and I have been on the look out for such information.

Reply
JM
6/4/2014 08:23:37 am

my belfast relatives used to say: poor wee snipey! where did you lay your eggs last night? (stroking child's puffed up cheeks) I laid them in the barn….. and along came a big thrasher and broke 'em all up! (and you push on the cheeks "break up" the "eggs")

Reply
JM
6/4/2014 08:24:23 am

Reply
Bill West
8/17/2014 10:24:43 am

My Grandfather from Cookstown Co. Tyrone had a version that went: Poor wee snipe. Poor wee snipe. Where'd ya lay your egg last night? In Campbell's bog? Why'd ya leave did you not bring your egg home last night.

Reply
patrick duffy
12/11/2016 10:20:52 am

my grandfather worked all his life in belfasts

poor wee snipey, where did you lay your eggs, in the bog, what did you cover them with, a wee grain of fog, .....

Reply
Sean link
12/11/2016 01:27:50 pm

Don't know the rest of it

Reply
Helen Swierszcz
3/11/2017 12:36:46 pm

my granny would say if we were pouting " poor wee snipey, poor wee snipey , where did u sleep last night?" (while stroking our cheeks) "down in the bog on a wee wisp of fog , chin up chin up chin up." (lifting our chin up)

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Marion
9/26/2017 11:48:51 pm

My Mother who was from Monaghan, Ireland used to stroke our faces and recite "Poor wee snipey, out in the bog, all night long, with his trousers on". Anyone else know about this?

Reply
Jan
11/12/2017 08:00:23 pm

In our family my grandmother would stroke her had down our face and say, poor wee snipey, came home from the bog, drukin and wet...but there were more parts that I don't remember... can any one add any more to the story...I have checked with the older members of my family and they don't remember more than I do...
thanks
We assumed that it was talking about a laborer who was cutting peat to burn to heat his home and that after work he would be all wet and tired and we supposed had shared a bottle of whisky or some other alcoholic drink and now was coming home to his wife ready to go to bed and sleep off his drunkenness

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Jamie
12/5/2018 01:57:12 am

Lovely to find this thread, here's our family version passed from my grandmother from south Co. Armagh, to my mother: "Poor wee snipey / where did you lay your eggs last night? / I lay them in the rushy bog / And what did you cover them with? / A wee grain of fog / Why didn't you bring some home for me ..." (last line repeated, stroking child's cheek).

Reply
Helen
1/14/2019 01:38:19 pm

My mother (from Manchester) and father (from Northumberland) used to say “Poor Snipey, wet and rosie, out all night amongst the posies, Cock your lungs up Snipey!” I always felt like there should have been more to it but there it ended!

Reply
Keith Good
6/23/2019 01:34:35 pm

Glad to find this thread. My mother is from country Cavan with ancestors from castlederg. I was too young to remember her saying this to me, but when I had kids, this is what she (now grandma) came out with.... really amazing.… Poor wee snipey (kid on lap, drawing kids hands down both sides of her face looking into kids eyes as she says these words), all droop-ed and wet ( same action as before), be (not “by” as we are from ulster;)) the back of the door (same action as before ... but getting slower), all the day long, (Same action as before but real slow and closing eyes softly)…(At this stage, the kid doesn’t know what’s happening, but if they do know, they are trembling with excitement… Grandma now opens her eyes and quickly says “Go to bed wee snipey” laughter ensues... with asks to go again ;). PS: snipey is pronounced snypee.

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Susannah
1/2/2020 11:32:29 pm

My Grandmother from Armagh used this rhyme as a tummy pain cure, stroking tummy in circular motion:
Poor wee snipey, poor wee snipey
Where did you lay your eggs last night?
Down in the bog, under the sod
(Then the stroking speeds up)
Poor wee snipey, snipey, snipey, snipey....

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Sarah
4/7/2020 03:04:00 am

My nana would drag her hands down our cheeks and sing poor wee snipey , poor wee snipey , did you lay a wee egg last night ? In the wee red bog ? Wee tail in the water ? Then would rub her hand in a swishing motion over the face saying Where did you lay away ?,where did you lay away ?
She was from county Tyrone in northern Ireland

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John
5/1/2020 04:13:58 pm

My grandmother hand down to my father who used to send us to sleep with Poor wee snipey, where did ya lay your eggs last night, down in the bog, what did ya cover them with, a wee piece of fog All the time pulling his big hands down each of our face getting slower and slower in time with each line of the verse until our eyes were nearly closed. We would pester him as my kids do now for this each night when we were tucked in. Great memories

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Alexi Read
8/26/2020 01:31:59 pm

My Nan was from Drogheda, Ireland. She used to chant this to us as we were going to bed. She died, aged 101 a few years ago, but my mum and I still use it with my children now. Always makes us laugh! We say: poor snipey, weird and weary, out all nighty, clappa the paw, clappa the paw, clappa the paw (this bit comes with slaps on the cheek!)

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Chris Taylor
11/3/2020 10:24:43 am

My mother from Newry used to say “poor pussy, poor pussy, where’d you lay your eggs last night? In the bog! (Child puffs out cheeks at this stage and reciter gently pushes to cheeks in to make a raspberry sound. All our various generations of children have loved this

Reply



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