Listen to the world’s best poetry read out loud.

(A Yorkshire Dialect Rhapsody)

From under’t canal like a watter-filled cellar
coming up like a pitman from a double’un, twice,
I said “Hey, you’re looking poorly”
He said “Them nights are drawing in”

Down’t stairs like a gob-machine, sucking toffees,
up a ladder like a ferret up a ladder in a fog,
I said “Hey, you’re looking poorly”
He said “Half-a-dozen eggs”

Over’t top in’t double-decker groaning like a whippet
like a lamplighter’s daughter in a barrel full of milk,
I said “Hey, you’re looking poorly”
He said “Night’s a dozen eggs”

Down’t canal like a barrow full of Gillis’s parsnips,
coming up like a cage of men in lit-up shiny hats,
I said “Hey, you’re looking poorly”
He said “Half a dozen nights”

Under’t canal on a pushbike glowing like an eggshell
up a ladder wi’ a pigeon and a brokken neck,
I said “Hey, you’re looking poorly”
He said “I feel like half-a-dozen eggs”

Over’t night on a shiny bike wi’ a lit-up hat,
perfect for’t poorly wi’ heads like eggs,
I said “Hey, you died last week”
He said “Aye, did you miss me?”