On this page you will find the conditions of entry to each class, the rules for the competition, and the winners and entries for the current year.
TROPHIES
CLASS 1 RICHARD HOLLAND CUP
For the best POEM in Lancashire Dialect
CLASS 2 HARRY CRAVEN CUP
For the best PIECE OF PROSE in Lancashire Dialect Overall limit of 2000 words
CLASS 3 ANNE RIDGEON CUP
For the best STORY with a Lancashire Theme in Standard English Overall limit of 2000 words
Limited dialogue in dialect permitted
Entries which are not Lancashire in theme will be disqualified
CLASS 4 EDITH GRAYSHAN GOBLET
For the best POEM with a Lancashire Theme, written in Standard English
Entries which are not Lancashire in theme will be transferred to Class 5
CLASS 5 PRESIDENT'S CUP
For the best POEM in Standard English - subject matter open
Entries from new writers who are trying their hand at poetry writing and also to more
experienced writers with work that does not comply to the other Classes 1 - 4
ADDITIONAL TROPHIES
VICAR SHAW TROPHY
For the BEST OVER-ALL ENTRY, chosen from the winners of Classes 1 - 4
TH' OWD TAY CADDY
For the BEST ENTRY in Classes 1 - 5 from a competitor who is not a previous winner
T' KISSIN' SHUTTLE
For the best presentation of a DIALECT PIECE at the Waugh Supper.
To be decided on the evening by the committee.
RULES
1. The competition is open to members and non-members of the Society.
The cost for non-members is £2.50 per entry. Non-members are encouraged to join the society, the membership being £5.*
Entrants may make as many entries as they wish.
2. Entries should not be named but be accompanied by a covering note indicating the name of the writer.
If entering by email, see below
3. Writers are advised to keep a copy of their entries. Original entries will be returned at the Waugh Supper.
4. Winning entries, or extracts therefrom, may be performed by the authors (or proxy) at the Waugh Supper.
5. Trophies will be presented at the Waugh Celebration Supper in March. They remain the property of the Society and should be
returned no later than the following December meeting.
6. Entries should not be, or have been, published or publicly recited before the closing date of the competition.
7. Entries may be resubmitted in a subsequent year, provided that they comply with Rule 6.
8. A trophy will only be awarded if there at least two entries in the class.
* To download a membership form, please click here
ALL ENTRIES BY 31st JANUARY -
EITHER TO THE COMPETITIONS SECRETARY:
STEWART CHADWICK TEL. 0161 624 5852
STARKEY FARM
THORNHAM ROAD
ROYTON
OLDHAM
OL2 6YG
OR BY EMAIL TO THE WEBMASTER: mike.cragg@outlook.com who will copy and forward them to the Competitions Secretary.
Non-members please send your entry fee to the competitions secretary,
or, if joining the society, your membership fee and application form.
Cheques or postal orders only please to Edwin Waugh Dialect Society.
CLASS 1 RICHARD HOLLAND CUP
For the best POEM in Lancashire Dialect
CLASS 2 HARRY CRAVEN CUP
For the best PIECE OF PROSE in Lancashire Dialect Overall limit of 2000 words
CLASS 3 ANNE RIDGEON CUP
For the best STORY with a Lancashire Theme in Standard English Overall limit of 2000 words
Limited dialogue in dialect permitted
Entries which are not Lancashire in theme will be disqualified
CLASS 4 EDITH GRAYSHAN GOBLET
For the best POEM with a Lancashire Theme, written in Standard English
Entries which are not Lancashire in theme will be transferred to Class 5
CLASS 5 PRESIDENT'S CUP
For the best POEM in Standard English - subject matter open
Entries from new writers who are trying their hand at poetry writing and also to more
experienced writers with work that does not comply to the other Classes 1 - 4
ADDITIONAL TROPHIES
VICAR SHAW TROPHY
For the BEST OVER-ALL ENTRY, chosen from the winners of Classes 1 - 4
TH' OWD TAY CADDY
For the BEST ENTRY in Classes 1 - 5 from a competitor who is not a previous winner
T' KISSIN' SHUTTLE
For the best presentation of a DIALECT PIECE at the Waugh Supper.
To be decided on the evening by the committee.
RULES
1. The competition is open to members and non-members of the Society.
The cost for non-members is £2.50 per entry. Non-members are encouraged to join the society, the membership being £5.*
Entrants may make as many entries as they wish.
2. Entries should not be named but be accompanied by a covering note indicating the name of the writer.
If entering by email, see below
3. Writers are advised to keep a copy of their entries. Original entries will be returned at the Waugh Supper.
4. Winning entries, or extracts therefrom, may be performed by the authors (or proxy) at the Waugh Supper.
5. Trophies will be presented at the Waugh Celebration Supper in March. They remain the property of the Society and should be
returned no later than the following December meeting.
6. Entries should not be, or have been, published or publicly recited before the closing date of the competition.
7. Entries may be resubmitted in a subsequent year, provided that they comply with Rule 6.
8. A trophy will only be awarded if there at least two entries in the class.
* To download a membership form, please click here
ALL ENTRIES BY 31st JANUARY -
EITHER TO THE COMPETITIONS SECRETARY:
STEWART CHADWICK TEL. 0161 624 5852
STARKEY FARM
THORNHAM ROAD
ROYTON
OLDHAM
OL2 6YG
OR BY EMAIL TO THE WEBMASTER: mike.cragg@outlook.com who will copy and forward them to the Competitions Secretary.
Non-members please send your entry fee to the competitions secretary,
or, if joining the society, your membership fee and application form.
Cheques or postal orders only please to Edwin Waugh Dialect Society.
These are the awards made at Waugh's Presentation Supper, held on March 19th 2019
1. RICHARD HOLLAND CUP RON WILLIAMS The best POEM in Lancashire Dialect
2. HARRY CRAVEN CUP SALLY JAMES
The best PIECE OF PROSE in Lancashire Dialect
3. ANNE RIDGEON CUP FRANK GIBSON
The best STORY with a Lancashire Theme in Standard English
4. EDITH GRAYSHAN GOBLET SALLY JAMES
The best POEM with a Lancashire Theme in Standard English
5. PRESIDENT'S CUP SALLY JAMES
The best POEM in Standard English - subject matter open
VICAR SHAW TROPHY RON WILLIAMS THE BEST OVERALL ENTRY in classes 1 - 5
TH' OWD TAY CADDY BETTY LIGHTFOOT
THE BEST ENTRY in classes 1 - 5 from a competitor who is not a previous winner
T' KISSIN' SHUTTLE SID CALDERBANK
For the best PRESENTATION of a DIALECT PIECE at the Waugh Supper
Congratulations to all the winners and to all who took part
These are the winning entries from 2019 :-
RON WILLIAMS The best POEM in Lancashire Dialect
The winner of the Richard Holland Cup and the Vicar Shaw Trophy
A LUVIN’ ‘USBANT’S TREAT
Aye ah do like mi missus a lot
So ah thowt as ah’d gi’e ‘er a treat,
Ah,d tek ‘er eawt fer a meal
Toh t’ garden centre ut’s usually awreet.
So ah towd ‘er toh poot on ‘er glad rags
Ah wer tekkin’ ‘er eawt fer ‘er lunch,
We went un queue’d op in’t’ café
Fer summut thi’ reckont wer brunch.
We sat theer un enjoyed a fair meal,
Swilled deawn wi’ a pot o’ freysh tay,
Hoo wer thrilled when ah towd ‘er mi plan
Ut hoo’d ‘ave nobbut toh pay.
Thir wer a brid table theer o’ sale,
(wun ut’s awhoam’s noan soh good)
Soh ah towd ‘er toh go choose a new un,
A gradely un med o’ beech wood.
Hoo wasted noh time pickin’ a freysh un,
Un ah took it toh t’ checkeawt toh pay,
Theer thi’d Uncle Joes Mintballs,
A tin o’ thoose ud fere mek ‘er day!
Hoo towd foak heaw gen’ rous ah’d bin
Un hoo sung t’ praises o’ this second rate bard,
…….. But weeks later hoo cawed mi a che’pskate
When hoo discovvert ah’d paid wi’t JOINT CARD!
15 03 2018
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SALLY JAMES The best PIECE OF PROSE in Lancashire Dialect
The winner of the Harry Craven Cup
Mollie’s Meanderings
Well here ah am sat in mi cheer bit winder, t’carer’s just bin an geet mi ready so a’ll no deawt bi ‘ere all day on mi own unless sumby calls bu’ ah reckon they’ll not.
Onnyroad ‘ave geet mi memories keep mi comp’ny. When tha thinks on it, the’s more years behind mi neaw than ther’ ar’ i’ front o’ mi, bur it comes to us all i’ time so I’ll noan worry abeawt it. ‘ave lived ‘ere all mi life born ‘n bred i’ this street, eeh ‘ave sin some comin’s un gooin’s.
Ah remember when ah wheer o young un mi grandma seyin’ “ Hey hast tha read this in t’papper it ses ‘ere that St Nats, church ‘s bin moved overneet.” Weel wi all went eawtside un gawp at it. Weel heaw did thi do that mi auntie Maggie said weighin’ it up wi’ ‘er ‘ead cocked toh one side. Then mi mam said “Weel ah never ‘eard um move it, un ah lives nearer than thee.” “Weel ah thinks it’s a bit mooer toh left neaw ah comes toh think o’ it,” mi Auntie Hannah said as ‘er waddled intoh back yard.
Ah weer only abeawt six then un ‘ad just startin’ readin’ un ah knew folks reawnd ‘ere wer’ o bit gullible like un would belief eawt tha towd um or read in t’papper but movin’ a huge church steeple overneet wer’ just too much fer even’t me toh believe. So ah looks at t’papper agen an’ ah solved puzzle whilst they were all in t’backyard still gawpin’ at church. Ah towd um " ‘ave a look in’t papper agen,” then ah ‘eard um laughin’ i’ disbelief. It were in t‘fifty years ago column back in t’early nineteen ‘undereds. In them days the were an owd corrugated iron church tha’ the’ used toh use whilst new un wer’ bein’ built an’ that were t’one the’ shifted overneet, not the one wit’ t’big church steeple. Eeh some things tha ne’er forgeets un that weer one of um.
The’s sommut abeawt Wiggin folks especially t’ women that wer’ allus a bit niave, a bit backards ert commin forrads if that knows wor ah mean. The’ were’ daicent folk i’ them days, hard workin’ an God fearin’. Not like they ar’ neaw
Neaw look ert them young uns walkin’ deawn street neaw wi the skirts up toh the backsides and their busts ‘angin’ eawt, eeh mi mam ud ‘ave ‘ad o fit if onny of us ‘ad er gone eawt lookin’ like that. Trollops shid cor um un as common as muck un slopstone blondes as well. But they’re all at it these days un nob’dy seems toh bother. ‘ave sin um fallin’ abeawt in’t middle o t’cart road Friday neets after pubs’ave shut, as drunk as flamin’ mops un thi ‘ave babies too awhoam wor ‘ave no dad’s. Ah knows times change but nor allus fert best.
Un I’ll tell thi summat else, road eawtside this heawse used toh bi cobbled but neaw it’s tarmacked un wi’ ‘pot ‘oles in it wheer thi keep diggin’ it up an’ layin pipes er summat. Aye un trams use toh run past ‘ere years ago un t‘funny thing is the’re layin’ a knew metro link on’t main road neaw wi’ cables over ‘ead just like t’owd trams ‘ad.
Eeh ah ‘ope somb’dy comes tohday, it ud bi nice’toh ‘ave sombdy chat too. ‘ave geet mi telly an’ ah con waatch wor ah wants when ah like but the’s nowt like o’ bit o company.
Eeh tha ud laugh ert this though it’s not really funny bur again it’s true. Afoor ah weer born when mi dad were a young un he lived in o place called “Clinkey Valley”. Neaw don’t asked mi why thi called it that cos ah don’t really know. It weren’t a valley as such it were just set back oft main road in er bit on o field. It weer ‘appen a bit posher theer but ah don’t really know, Onnyroad durin’ war Gerrys use toh drop onny stray bombs thi ‘ad on t’flight back toh Germany after bombin’ Liverpoo’.
One dropped i’ mi dads back yard un blew all back ert t’heawse in, bur mi dad wer’ in t’petty at t’ time which were at t’bottom o t’yard. It weer one o them owd middens type cos water closets ‘addn’t come toh that part o’ Wiggin yet. Mi dad were’ safe enough though cos petty dooer fell on ‘im an’ saved ‘is life. He escaped wi just o few cuts un bruises so that were o’ good job. If it had bin different then ah wouldna bin ‘ere toh tell thi t’tale.
A week later the were o joke gooin’ areawnd Wiggin Hipp that Germans wer’ flyin’ ore Wiggin un saw a building marked WC so bombed it cos thi thowt it stood fer Winston Churchill. Foaks ‘ad toh ‘ave sommut smile abeawt i’them days.
Thi don’t know the born these days, neaw just look at um theer, he’s not workin’ i’ ses bur is short er nowt un thi ‘ave an heawse full o’ kids too, an’ thi all ‘ave mobile phones and a big screen tele. Kids o allus kickin’ th’ dam football intoh mi gardin’ ‘ave banged on t’winder monny o time but thi jus pull the faces un run off.
Ah suppose ‘ave some need talk missel though cos eawr kids ‘ave done the fair share o’ kickin balls i’ foak’s garden’s i’ the time. Neaw the’s grandkids givin’ mi trouble doin’ just same. Eeh the’s soh monny of um neaw ah don’t know which is which an heaw owd thi all are. Ah ‘m allus glad toh see um when thi come to visit but ah’m fain when thiv gone.
Eeh bi thi eck just look whose commin’ deawn eawr path its eawr Billy mi youngest, mi babby . Lovely lad he allus thinks a lor abeawt ‘is mam. Eeh ‘ad best put kettle on. Ah con just abeawt ger abeawt wi’ this walkin’ frame. Ah‘m nor altogether ‘elpless tha knows. Onnyroad it’s bin nice gooin’ back o’er mi memories, it passes time and keeps mi mind occupied.
Ah thinks i’ Wiggin dialect tha sees as weel as speyckin’ in it, allus ‘ave done, Tha knows seyin’ “Tha con tek a lass eawt er Wiggin but tha cornt tek Wiggin eawt o’ t’lass”, weel that’s me. Though mi dad ud go mad if he ‘eard mi neaw. He said once “ Ah don’t know weer tha gets that talk from, cos there’s no one in this heawse speycks broad like thee does!
Sally James
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FRANK GIBSON The best STORY with a Lancashire Theme in Standard English,
the winner of the Anne Ridgeon Cup
Frank prefers that we do not publish his entry, as he may want to use it in future competitions.
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SALLY JAMES The best POEM with a Lancashire Theme in Standard English
The winner of the Edith Grayshan Goblet
Blood Brothers
My Lancashire has gone
like a pit siren
whistling in the wind
a mineshaft filled in
slag heaps flattened
and a loom silenced.
My Lancashire was
like a clog iron
sparking on cobbles
a donkey stone scraping
coal fires burning
and a chimney belching.
My Lancashire disappeared
like steam from a kettle
pit headgears in the sunset
ashes in the grate
granddad’s rocking chair
and the rag and bone man.
Your Lancashire is different
like a giant superstore
a computer website
an industrial estate
land reclamation
and a sanctuary for wild life.
Your Lancashire is today
not yesterday
grasp my red rose
by it’s thorns
let your reality
bleed into my memories
so that our red rose will never fade.
Sally James
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SALLY JAMES The best POEM in Standard English - subject matter open
The winner of the President's Cup
The Old Mill Stream
I love to walk by the old mill stream
where the Rose Bay Willow grows
where catkins weep and bluebells peep
and entwine the Briar Rose.
I love to hear the cuckoo call
near the crumbling dry stone wall
yet that rippling stream isn’t all it seems
near the flowing waterfall.
For I hear the voice of yesterday
babbling through cold waters
echoing words tired fathers said
to mothers, sons and daughters.
They talk of hours long and hard
and the meagre lowly pay
of children’s laughter turned to tears
in the early hours of day.
Half-timers juggling work with school
too young to know the shame
of crawling under lashing looms
oblivious of who’s to blame.
Those days are gone and glad I am
that the old mill stream still flows
rambling on in the same old way
where the Rose Bay Willow grows.
Sally James
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BETTY LIGHTFOOT THE BEST ENTRY in classes 1 - 5 from a competitor who is not a previous winner
The winner of Th'Owd Tea Caddy with "Lancashire Born and Bred"
Betty prefers that we do not publish her entry, as she may want to use it in future competitions, but has kindly allowed us to put on a previous winning entry.
THE GIPSY’S CURSE....
I asked for a doll and pram Christmas, 1949, BUT Father Christmas must have lost my letter because I ended up with a thirty inch “MAMA” doll, but no pram. Dad, a coal miner, said it was because of rationing, but I think the gipsy incident had a lot to do with it.
Marian, Harry, Billy and me either played down the Moss or on the Green, near Marian and Harry’s Aunty Bertha’s House. One afternoon in late summer the Green was full of brightly painted caravans and tents. Piebald ponies were grazing by Aunty Bertha’s door and a dozen or more brown skinned, bare footed children were playing with a motley assortment of dogs. My excitement was short lived because my Mother said I’d to stay away because gipsies stole little girls like me.
I did as I was told – until Marian and Harry said they were going to Aunty Bertha’s. I couldn’t resist tagging along. It was a quick “Hello Aunty” then off we shot to play with the gipsy children.
I hadn’t noticed Marian and Harry had gone home when my brother shouted me for my tea, so I turned a deaf ear. A few minutes later my Mother, a Carder at the Acme Mill arrived, rolling up her sleeves. As she got within slapping distance an old gipsy took pity on me and told her I’d been no trouble.
She smiled a gold toothed smile, showed my Mother a small bag, told her she had a kind face and asked her to do a bit of washing. I don’t know who was more surprised, me, or the gipsy, when she agreed.
Unfortunately the “bit of washing” my brother and his friends dragged through our back gate wasn’t in the bag. It bulged out of a filthy palliase cover! Needless to say I kept out of the way until my Mother’s bottle of pop temper had been worked off, scrubbing the mountain of dirty, ragged clothing.
To add insult to injury, the gipsy woman sent a small box of Persil “for her trouble” with the two gipsies who collected it later. I was still having the Riot Act read when my dad arrived home. He banned me from the Green until the gipsies left.
It wasn’t long before the gipsies moved camp and it was business as usual for Marian, Harry, Billy and me. By the time we had worked up an appetite for our teas racing around the Green playing cowboys and Indians the gipsies and their “bit of washing” were ancient history.
Until Christmas morning!
Betty Lightfoot - awarded “Th’0wd Tay Caddy” March 2000 (winner of competition 1999)
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