02.05
Hello Poem by Robert Sward
An obvious self-recommendation for the first in this series, Robert Sward's Hello Poem is probably his most well-known, particularly in the USA. There is an unstinting 'ya-honk' American optimism here that goes against the natural grain of my dour northern Englishness. Precisely because of this, because I couldn't imagine writing anything so Californianly sun-kissed here in the dull grey drizzle we call the English weather, I find it unbearably hopeful. And reading it is like opening the curtains to the Pacific Ocean of the mind. Sure, it's got that hippy-love-is-all-around-us 60's vibe and as such, rather than finding it something to be embarrassed about (like seeing your mum's underwear on the washing line or the realisation that your parents still do it), I find it an antidote to all the post-whatever irony that is taken for humour and good cheer these days.
Anyway, that said, I am still a drizzle-soaked Yorkshireman, only truly happy when things get grim. The poem's fine in small doses, like a smooth 12 year old malt whisky, but you can't go around being intoxicated with happiness all the time, it's just not cricket! So I translated Robert's 'Hello Poem' into my own regional Yorkshire tongue (less a dialect than an attitude i.e. a bad one!) to make it more palatable to fellow sullen Tykes (forgive me!).
Enough of me, here's Robert's sunny delight followed by my more 'foggy' version:
Hello Poem by Robert Sward
Hello wife, hello world, hello God,
I love you. Hello certain monsters,
ghosts, office buildings, I love you. Dog,
dog-dogs, cat, cat-cats, I love you.
Hello Things-In-Themselves, Things Not Quite
In Themselves (but trying), I love you.
River-rivers, flower-flowers, clouds
and sky;
the Trolley Museum in Maine
(with real trolleys); airplanes taking
off; airplanes not taking off; airplanes
landing,
I love you.
The IRT,
BMT; the London subway
(yes, yes, pedants, the Underground)
system; the Moscow subway system,
all subway systems except the
Chicago subway system. Ah yes,
I love you, the Chicago El-
evated. Sexual intercourse,
hello, hello.
Love, I love you; Death,
I love you;
and some other things, as well,
I love you. Like what? Walt Whitman,
Wagner, Henry Miller;
a really
extraordinary, one-legged
Tijuana whore; I love you, loved
you.
The Reader's Digest (their splendid,
monthly vocabulary tests), Life
and Look...
handball, volleyball, tennis;
croquet, basketball, football, Sixty-
nine;
draft beer for a nickel; women
who will lend you money, women
who will not;
women, pregnant women;
women who I am making pregnant;
women who I am not making pregnant.
Women. Trees, goldfish, silverfish,
coral fish, coral;
I love you, I
love you.
© Robert Sward, Collected Poems 1957-2004, Black Moss Press, 2004
-----------------------------------
Alreet Poim by Andrew Boobier
'Ow do luv, na then you lot, alreet 'im upstairs,
shall we make a go of it? Na then yer buggers,
yer weirdoes, council buildings, yer alreet you. Whippets,
whippet-whippets, Jack Russells, (no cats!) aye, you lot are alreet
an' all. 'Ow do stuff as what I can see, na then
nowty stuff (but having a go, mind you), you lot are alreet I suppose.
Yer becks, leeks, carrots and taters, drizzle
and bloody rain;
th'Industrial Museum in Bradford
(wi' real trolley buses); planes tekkin' off;
planes staying put; planes
coming in to land,
yer all alreet.
The WYPTE,
the SYPTE; Sheffield supertrams
(granted, they're not like proper trams);
the rail service to that there London,
all GNER rail services but not
Arriva Transpennine or Virgin. Oh aye,
yer alreet. Early night wi' missus,
na then, alreet.
Luv, 'ow do; popping yer clogs,
alreet;
an' summat else, an' all,
yer alreet. Oh aye? Geoffrey Boycott,
Damien Hirst, Scary Spice;
a reet
gradely, peg-legged
prossy from Lumb Lane; na then, yer alreet too,
we did it.
The Dalesman (their grand
tales about Tykes), Yorkshire Life,
Haworth Parish Times...
cricket, rugby (league), football;
shove ha'penny, darts and doms, crib-
bage;
pint o' Timmy Taylors fer a penny; lasses
who'll lend yer a bob or two; tight-
fisted lasses;
lasses, lasses up the duff;
lasses ah'm shaggin';
lasses who won't (lesbians).
Lasses. Dales, bream, trout,
koi carp, sludge;
yer alreet you, aye
yer alreet.
***Selected glossary:
Poim = how Yorkshire people who aren't as posh as what I am pronounce 'poem'
ow do, na then, alreet = all familiar forms of greeting
shall we make a go of it = often said by chaps who are courting their loved one, can often be translated as 'will you marry me'; an oblique reference to 'love', never spoken out loud as that could constitute you as being effeminate or 'not hard'
Nowt = nothing
Becks = small tributary stream
WYPTE = West Yorkshire Passenger Transport Executive
SYPTE = South Yorkshire Passenger.... You get the idea
GNER = Great North Eastern Railways
Popping yer clogs = his royal highness, the Grim Reaper, knocks on your door
Summat = something
Geoffrey Boycott = famous Yorkshire cricketer (don't make me explain cricket to you Yanks, it makes as much sense as Arnie being Governor of Kalifornia)
Damien Hirst = trendy Brit artist artist who pickles sharks for fun from Leeds
Scary Spice = one of the Spice Girls (i.e. the 'scary' one) from Leeds
Gradely = very nice, fine upstanding
Peg-legged = one-legged
Prossy = prostitute (Lumb Lane was red light district of Bradford, immortalised on TV's 'Band of Gold')
Tykes = Yorkshire people born and bred
Shove ha'penny = old pub game where you quite literally shove a half penny coin
Timmy Taylors = my local brewery (though I never really liked their beer - prefer Budweiser funnily enough)
Bob = one shilling now equivalent to 10 pence or a few Euros
Up the duff = with child
Shaggin' = the beast with two backs