The Dalesman's Litany

Tim Hart & Maddy Prior
Language: English (Broad Yorkshire, o Tyke)

List of versions

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‎‎[fine 800]‎
Canzone raccolta nello Yorkshire verso la fine dell’800 da Frederic William Moorman (1872-‎‎1918), professore di lingua e letteratura inglese all’Università di Leeds e a lungo presidente della ‎Yorkshire Dialect Society. Moorman la trascrisse e la pubblicò nel suo libro ‎‎“Songs of the Ridings” pubblicato a Londra nel 1918.‎
La melodia risale agli anni 60 ed è attribuita a tal Dave Keddie di Bradford.‎
Tim Hart (membro fondatore degli Steeleye Span) e Maddy Prior (che abbiamo già ‎incontrata in coppia con June Tabor e che pure fu membro degli Steeleye Span), ‎tradussero il testo dall’originario dialetto dello Yorkshire in inglese ed inclusero la canzone nel ‎primo volume della loro raccolta intitolata “Folk Songs of Old England”, pubblicato nel 1968.‎
Informazioni e testo trovati su English Folk Music

folksongsofoldengland 1 tepee

Il lamento, l’invocazione a Dio, di un lavoratore dello Yorkshire (“dalesman”, letteralmente ‎‎“valligiano”, cioè un abitante della campagna) che l’industrializzazione capitalistica ha costretto ‎prima ad emigrare verso la città, poi a lavorare duramente e per quattro soldi per tutta la vita ed ‎infine, da vecchio, a ritornare a morire nel paese natale ormai abbandonato, in un paesaggio irreale ‎segnato dalle enormi colline di detriti di lavorazione del carbone e assediato dalla brughiera…‎

Contribuisco per primo il testo originale in dialetto dello Yorkshire, come raccolto da Moorman.‎
It's hard when fowks can't finnd their wark
Wheer they've bin bred an' born;
I were young I awlus thowt
I'd bide 'mong t' roots an' corn.
I've bin forced to work i' towns,
So here's my litany:
Frae Hull, an' Halifax, an' Hell,
Gooid Lord, deliver me!‎

When I were courtin' Mary Ann,
T' owd squire, he says one day:
‎“I've got no bield (1) for wedded fowks;
Choose, wilt ta wed or stay?”
I couldn't gie up t' lass I loved,
To t' town we had to flee:
Frae Hull, an' Halifax, an' Hell,
Gooid Lord, deliver me!‎

I've wrowt i' Leeds an' Huthersfel',
An' addled (2) honest brass;
I' Bradforth, Keighley, Rotherham,
I've kept my barns an' lass.
I've travelled all three Ridin's round,
And once I went to sea:
Frae forges, mills, an' coalin' boats,
Gooid Lord, deliver me!‎

I've walked at neet through Sheffield loans (3),
‎'T were same as bein' i' Hell:
Furnaces thrast out tongues o' fire,
An' roared like t' wind on t' fell.
I've sammed up coals i' Barnsley pits,
Wi' muck up to my knee:
Frae Sheffield, Barnsley, Rotherham,
Gooid Lord, deliver me!‎

I've seen grey fog creep ower Leeds Brig
As thick as bastile (4) soup;
I've lived wheer fowks were stowed away
Like rabbits in a coop.
I've watched snow float down Bradforth Beck
As black as ebiny:
Frae Hunslet, Holbeck, Wibsey Slack,
Gooid Lord, deliver me!‎

But now, when all wer childer's fligged, (5)
To t' coontry we've coom back.
There's fotty mile o' heathery moor
Twix' us an' t' coal-pit slack.
And when I sit ower t' fire at neet,
I laugh an' shout wi' glee:
Frae Bradforth, Leeds, an Huthersfel',
Frae Hull, an' Halifax, an' Hell,
T' gooid Lord's delivered me!‎

‎1) shelter = qui nel senso di posto per ospitare i novelli sposi‎
‎2) earned = nel senso di guadagnarsi il pane‎
‎3) lanes = strade‎
‎4) workhouse = nel senso di mensa dei poveri‎
‎5) fledged = volati via, nel sesno che il protagonista è ormai vecchio, i figli sono cresciuti e se ne ‎sono andati, come lui a suo tempo, in cerca di lavoro e di fortuna.‎

Contributed by Bernart - 2013/8/28 - 10:05

Language: English

Traduzione inglese di Tim Hart.‎

It's hard when folks can't find their work
Where they've been bred and born.
When I was young I always thought
I'd bide amidst fruits and corn.
But I've been forced to work in town
So here's my litany:
From Hull and Halifax and Hell,
Good Lord, deliver me!‎

When I was courting Mary Jane
The old squire, he says to me,
‎“I've got no rooms for wedded folk;
Choose whether to go or to stay.”
I could not give up the girl I loved
So to town I was forced to flee:
From Hull and Halifax and Hell,
Good Lord, deliver me!‎

I've worked in Leeds and Huddersfield
And I've earned some honest brass.
In Bradford, Keighley, Rotherham
I've kept my bairns and lass.
I've travelled all three Ridings round
And once I went to sea:
From forges, mills and coaling boats,
Good Lord, deliver me!‎

I've walked at night through Sheffield lanes
T'was just like being in hell.
Where furnaces thrust out tongues of fire
And roared like the wind on the fell.
I've sammed up coals in Barnsley pit
With muck up to my knee:
From Barnsley, Sheffield, Rotherham,
Good Lord, deliver me!‎

I've seen fog creep across Leeds bridge
As thick as the bastile soup.
I've lived where folks were stowed away
Like rabbits in a coop.
I've seen snow float down Bradford Beck
As black as ebony:
From Hunslet, Holbeck, Wibsey Stack,
Good Lord, deliver me!‎

But now that all our children have gone
To the country we've come back.
There's forty miles of heathery moor
‎'Twixt us and the coal-pit stack.
And as I sit by the fire at night
I laugh and shout with glee:
From Hull and Halifax and Hell,
The Good Lord delivered me.‎

Contributed by Bernart - 2013/8/28 - 10:06

Sul sempre ottimo Mudcat Café si racconta ‎che la canzone è incentrata su di un antico proverbio dello Yorkshire, ben spiegato nel versi del ‎poeta seicentesco John Taylor (un ‎battelliere soprannominato “The Water Poet”, 1578-1653)‎

There is a Proverbe, and a prayer withall,
That we may not to these strange places fall,
From Hull, from Halifax, from Hell, 'tis thus,
From all these three, Good Lord deliver us.
This praying proverb's meaning to set down,
Men do not wish deliverance from the Town:
The towns named Kingston, Hull's furious River:
And from Hull's dangers, I say Lord deliver.
At Halifax, the law so sharp doth deal,
That whoso more than 13 Pence doth steal,
They have a jyn that wondrous quick and well,
Sends thieves all headless unto Heav'n or Hell.
From Hell each man says, Lord deliver me,
Because from Hell can no redemption be:
Men may escape from Hull and Halifax,
But sure in Hell there is a heavier tax,
Let each one for themselves in this agree,
And pray, from Hell good Lord deliver me.

“From Hull, from Halifax, from Hell, Good Lord deliver us!”, cioè – più o meno - ‎‎“Signore, proteggici dalle acque impetuose del fiume Hull, dai ricchi possidenti e dagli ‎azzeccagarbugli della città di Halifax, che ci hanno rubato le nostre terre, e dalle fiamme ‎dell’Inferno”

Bernart - 2013/8/28 - 10:25

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