Owd Nick 'n' Yung Tom

The absolutely 100% true story of how we got our crooked spire.



Owd Nick 'n' Yung Tom

Owd Nick com darn ter Darbiesher
In sum owden time
'E thowt 'e'd start sum mischiff
An' 'e kicked off wi' this rhyme

"'Im upsteers 's med this land
its grand as owt an' fair
Well ar've com 'ere to mek it woss
Ah'll ruin it, ah swair!"

'E flew abaht them peaks an' crags
'E tonned the rivers red
'E stared raight at an 'undred shaip
'An killed 'em all ston ded

A peasant, name 'o Thomas Dunn
'E wor raight big'n'strong
'd bin plowin' near ter Chesterfield
'E'd bin wokkin' 'ard'n'long

'E'd just sat darn to 'ay 'is snap
When Owd Nick com flyin' past
'E slew Tom's ox wi' a flay orriz tail
'It 'appened laightnin' fast

Off went Owd Nick darn ter t'tarn
Tom stood and shook 'is 'ed
'is fizzog war laik thunder
'it 'ad gone ten shades o' red

'E ripped a tree raight art o't grarnd
'An set off runnin' after Nick
'E ran to keep 'im in 'is sight
'E wor battin' - a raight owd lick

When Nick reached t'tarn 'e 'ad sum fun
'E wor causin' lots o' bother
'E drank all't beer in't Market Place
'An peed it art in't Rother

By t'time yung Tom caught up wi' 'im
'E'd sat on top o't church
'E wor laughin' fit ter bost
Up theer on 'is perch

"Oi Lucy! Get thissen darn 'ere,
Ah'v 'ad me fill o' thee;
"Tha'll get what's comin' raight enough
Wen tha picks a faight wi' me"

Nick couldn't believe 'is 'airy lugs
This barmpot must be cracked;
E' wor climbin' up outside 'o t'church
Wi' a tree strapped ter 'is back

He wrapped 'is tail ararnd the spire
'An stared raight in Tom's eyes
"Tha darst com 'ere and faight wi' me?"
"Ah duz", yung Tom replies

Nick took a swipe wi' 'is deadly claw
But Tom swayed art o't road
then whacked 'im w't tree in 'is ugly chops
until 'is grain blood flowed

'E wor raight shakken wor'oary Nick
Tom dealt him blow on blow
'E flicked 'is tail raight off o't spire
An' scurried back below





"Ar, womit thee, ah'll gi' thi' more
If tha wants me to!!"
Tom louked darn ter see that t'spire
wor twisted laik a screw

Folk wor cheerin' young Tom Dunn
As 'e slid down from up t'top
Rarnd and rarnd that twisted spire
Til 'e com turra stop.

"That lonned 'im, Sorrey!", blarts art Tom
to that cheerin' crard
They all et souse'n'tonnips
an' drank beer darn't Falcon Yard.






Nar, lowk ovver theer, si fer thissen
'Ow t'devil med it twist'n'buck;
Tom'd tell yer't tale 'imsen
if yer bort 'im beer in't Mucky Duck

(c) Tim Fellows 2017 with help from the spirit of Tom Dunn