Jimmy Jones

Jimmy was born in Tyldesley in 1913 and spent most of his life in the town. The dialect Jimmy uses is now seldom heard in Tyldesley. Jimmy was both Secretary and Treasurer of the Tyldesley Historical Society which he helped to found in 1972. He published two volumes of poetry, Jimmy Jones's Tyldesley and Jimmy Jones Again.

Both volumes were highly successful and Jimmy became established as one of Lancashire's leading dialect poets. Jimmy's poetry reflects the affection he held for his home town , its people and way of life. He tells its stories with humour and pathos.

Jimmy who had contributed so much to his local town died in 1996.

We include two previously unpublished examples of Jimmy's poetry but more will follow in the future.

Tawkin'To Mi Gronchilts Doll (1976)

Ah've bin tawkin'to mi gronchilts doll,

'Twer reyther late yo see,

Ah'd londid whoam past midneet hour,

Ther'were only her un me,

They'd aw gone t'bed us wan ther'wont,

Exceptfer't doll on t'pram,

'Oo stared at me whi "goo-goo " een,

seemed to ask - "wheers they bin Sam "?

Ney mah names Jim, un get thi t'sleep,

Ah hope tha's said thi prayers,

Un do'ant keep starin'like tha does,

Er ah'll shove thi undert'stairs,

Bi this bent deauwn, mi shoon untee,

Seemed gerrum in a knot,

Ah'll swear us t'doll said to itself,

"Yo great big dozy clot".

Ah towd that doll a thing or two,

It wakkent wife i'bed,

Deauwn stairs 'oo cum i'such a peyle,

"What's gooin'on ", 'oo sed,

Ah tried t'explain us best ah could,

Un thowt it wer'a joke,

Then weeshedfer't next ten minutes,

To t'doll ahd never spoke.

"Th'art chewin 't'fat whi gronchilts doll,

Un us asleep i'bed,

Ah've a good mind clout thi whi mi broosh,

Gerrup them stairs", 'oo said.

Ah'll watch next time us ah creep in,

T'be aware o'that,

But road us my luck runs at times,

Ah bet ahfaw o'er tcat.

(Copyright Jimmy Jones/Tyldesley and District Historical Society 2001)

A Lifetime in Tyldesley (1977)

Thru' infant eyes, the patterns form,

In time each took a name,

The first few words began to form,

From baby lips they came,

Slowly as the years did pass,

All silhouettes did fill,

To church and chapel, shops and school,

And always Calebs mill.

With church spire tall, thru many years,

Looked down on street or lane,

Watched the life of those within,

The laughs, the fears, the pain,

Seen the changes time as wrought,

For better or for ill,

Still dominate this Tyldesley town,

That stands upon a hill.