Yorkshire Words Of The Week

My great aunt Emma Jane Harris lived in Kirby Row, Kirkheaton. We loved to visit her as children, and she often said: “I’m barn yon cloys” – meaning she was going to the toilet up the yard.

Once I remember her not feeling very well and she said: “Eeh lass, av gotten t’ead wark”, meaning she had a headache.

They were up an unmade road and her son lived opposite in an old stone bungalow. We were also taken for a walk “t’at randabhat”. It was a hill where you could see all “roundabout” and I remember passing a tethered goat on the path to it.

Michael Brown, Beech Tree Court, Linton-on-Ouse, York.

I WAS interested to read Jose Barnes letter about “band”. We always referred to the thicker hairy type as billy band or binder twine. I know it was used to tie sheaves when the old binder was cutting the corn (hence binder twine) but I don’t know where the term billy band came from.

From: Sam Hinchliffe, South Crosland, Huddersfield

Of course “band” was a string, or more rightly twine. A farmers’ friend was baler band – it held bales together, it fastened your coat when the buttons had long since departed, it mended gates and had numerous other uses.

And someone making a hash of something would be told: “Tha’ frames like a man made o’ band”.

From: Michael Ellison, Knapping Hill, Harrogate

M Briggs (January 7) quotes his memory of counting sheep by shepherds. There are 18 complete different variants listed on Wikipedia – Nidderdale being one of five from Yorkshire.

M Briggs starts correctly up to four which should be “peddero” and “pitts” is for five. The counting continues with tayter, layter, overo, covero, and dix for ten. Numbers 11 to 14 are counted as 1+10. Eleven is yaindix and so on. Fifteen is bumfit, then 16 to 19 are 1 + 15 up to 20 which was jiggit.

The shepherd then used a marker of each batch of 20 sheep. For example, seven markers equalled 140 sheep.

From: D Laycock, Aire Crescent, Cross Hills.

WITH reference to the letter from J Sharp (Country Week, January 7) the word “clawpoke” was used by my father with exactly the same meaning, a mild chiding when I’d done something foolish.

However, he lived (as I do) at Cross Hills since 1900, so it would seem to be more widespread. “Sackless” was a word he often used. This referred to someone looking vacant and gormless.