William Billington (1825-84) was born at Samlesbury, his parents being impoverished handloom weavers. He received little formal education, but despite his harsh beginning he became a noted "artizan poet" and, within his lifetime, acquired the epithet, "The Blackburn Poet". Billington is mainly remembered for his popular Lancashire dialect poems "Th' Shurat-weyvur's song" and "Aw wod this war wur ended", both of which deal with the devastating effects of the "Cotton Famine" of the 1860's. He also became a newspaper columnist, writing in The Blackburn Standard and The Blackburn Times on local literary subjects. Billington's poetry was published in two volumes, "Sheen and Shade" (1861) and "Lancashire Songs with other sketches" (1883).
By Ian Petticrew.
This photograph of William Billington is from Blackburn Library's collection of "Bygone Blackburnians" , collected by D. Geddes:
Blackburn to the Fore! Jamie Holman, Head of Fine Art at Blackburn Univeristy College was one of nine artists commisioned by the "Art in Manufacture" project for the first National Festival of Making held in Blackburn, May 6th and 7th, 2017. Jamie was commissioned to work with paper manufacturers, Roach Bridge Tissues; a family run firm with over 170 years of experience of paper manfacture. The resulting artworks and performances were revealed as part of the festival with a solo exhibition, a digital moving image commission and two choral performances in Blackburn Cathedral. The choral performance and exhibitions were inspired by William Billington's poem "Blackburn to the Fore!".
In order to see the specially commissioned performance by Blackburn People's Choir of William Billington's "Blackburn to the Fore", please select the following link, by kind permission of Jamie Holman:
For Shakespeare and Ben Jonson the Mermaid Tavern was the favoured hostelry and source of inspiration. For Blackburn's bards in the middle of the 19th century it was a beerhouse on the corner of Bradshaw Street and Nab Lane, known as 'Poets' Corner.' Here congregated such luminaries as William Billington, John Baron, John Critchley Prince and Richard Dugdale. In an article in the Blackburn Times of June 23rd 1972 George Miller describes a typical exchange of wit:
Another distinguished rhymster to grace the tavern with his presence was John Critchley Prince. He acquired more than local fame, 'wrote like an angel' but, alas, lived like the Devil, being sadly addicted to the bottle.
It was while presiding at the Blackburn Scotsmen's dinner, held here about 1849, that Prince toasted a fellow poet, Richard Dugdale, known to fame as the 'Bard of Ribblesdale', with the dubious words, 'a fine man, but no poet.' To which witticism Dugdale instantly replied by proposing the health of Prince, 'a fine poet, but no man.'
The work of our dialect poets is not given the attention it merits. Burns and the Border balladeers are accorded their place in literary history, but the likes of Edwin Waugh, Sam Laycock are sadly overlooked. As George Miller remarked: 'Humble and self-taught there is a wholesome quality in the simple verse of these men that we shall seek in vain in the sophisticated products of most contemporary poetry.'
One other who did his utmost to honour their genius was George Hull who published 'The Poets and Poetry of Blackburn' in 1902. It contains biographies and examples of some our best local poets' work, such as this by William Baron:
For an on-line version of George Hull's book, click here.
Joseph Baron was a dialect writer, born in Rishton in 1859.He attended Blackburn Grammar School and later worked as a solicitor's clerk. After this he worked in the commercial department of the Lancashire Evening Express, which he left after two years to devote himself entirely to journalism. He is probably most famous for the works "Blegburn Dickshonary" and "Lankisher Dickshonary", in which he listed popular dialect word and phrases form the local area.
This article was taken from the Blackburn Times, March 15th 1924:
Charles Hodgson from Canada contacted Cottontown about the Blegburn Dickshonary. He presents a daily web-based broadcast about interesting words and their derivation. He had seen this work cited in the Oxford English Dictionary and was curious to know more about it.
We were happy to tell him about Joseph Baron and his dialect works.
He was keen to have a derivation of one of Joseph's words read for his website, in an authentic accent. We were happy to oblige, and Diana Rushton read the derivation of the word Baby or Babby.
This is a wonderful thing, an heaw mich wonderful depends on id number. Iv it's th'fost it's a hangel; yo' mezzer id an weigh id every Setterda'neet, an book th' perticklers deawn in a family Bible. An' when id says "Daddy" an' "Mammy"- wey, yo' wodn'd tek th' Nash'nal Det for id. But iv it's th' duzzenth, it's a little imp an' id gets plenty o' strap; aw know abeawt id, becos aw've hed' em - at leeast th'wife hes, an it's o th'same.
The recording of "Babby" was broadcast on Charles's website on 28th October, 2005
Dr Simon Rennie and Dr Ruth Mather are currently working on a project exploring the poetry written during Lancashire's cotton famine. The primary focus concerns the poetry published in local newspapers, particularly in the Blackburn Standard and Blackburn Times.
Further information about the whole project can be found by selecting the following link: Cotton Famine Poetry
BLACKBURN'S MOST PROLIFIC POET
John Thomas Baron, Jack o'Ann's
Blackburn, can proudly boast of having had many good poets over the years, some well-known and popular in their time and known even today. George Hull in his book “Poets and Poetry of Blackburn" writes about 56 of them. Names like William Billington, spring immediately to mind, he wrote many poems for various newspapers and two books, “Sheen and Shades" and “Lancashire Songs with other Poems and Sketches". He also kept a beer house on Bradshaw-street known as The Poets Corner, from where for many years he ran a literary club. Another well-known poet of that time was Joseph Baron (no relation to our subject) who wrote both a Blegburn Dickshonary and a Lankisher Dickshonary" These, and most of the others written about by Hull at one time or another wrote poems in the Lancashire dialect. But certainly the most prolific of our local dialect poets has to be our present subject; John Thomas Baron who, for over 30 years, with just one short break due to illness wrote a dialect poem each week for the Blackburn Times and never missed an issue.
John Thomas Baron was the son of John Baron, a card room grinder, and Ann Bond weaver; they were married on the 22nd of February1846. John Thomas was the fourth of six children, two of whom died young. He was born on the 1st of March 1856 at 42 Chapel-street Blackburn. The surviving children were an elder brother, James and a younger brother William, who was born 19th April 1865. Like his brother, William became a poet and wrote under the name of “Bill o'Jacks." There was also a sister, whose name I cannot find, she married a man called Ashover and for some time was the caretaker of the Ragged School, on Bent-street.
In 1859 John's father became ill and so the family moved to the cleaner and healthier air of Blackpool. They resided at “Napier House," 28 Chapel-street. Here for a fee of a penny-a-week John Thomas got his only education, a place was found for him in the infants department of the National School in Bank Hey-street, (just behind where the tower now stands.) His teacher was a Miss Jones who he described as: “An admirable and painstaking lady. Her teaching was excellent." In 1865, when John had turned nine his education came to an abrupt end when his brother William was born, his parents thought he would be more useful at home helping his mother.
42 Chapel-street where John Thomas Baron was born
About a year after the birth of his brother William the family moved back to Blackburn for a short while. Back in his hometown John Thomas got his first job as an errand boy at Anthony Welding's saddlers shop, at 12 Darwen-street, but it did not last long. After just six months back in Blackburn the family returned to Blackpool. John Thomas soon found employment at a newly opened “Dick's Shoe Establishment" in Lytham-street where he remained for the next two years.
On May 23rd 1869 at thirteen years old John Thomas was to suffer the greatest loss of his short life, it was the sudden death of his mother, who he adored. One of the first poems he wrote was dedicated to her; he called it “A Mothers Love." The first verse runs:
There is a flame, more pure and holy
Than that which burns at Beauty's shrine;
'Tis shared alike by great and lowly,
And once—ah, once!—'twas mine.
It lingers sweet in recollection,
And haunts us wheresoe'er we rove—
The gleaming pole-star of affection;
It is—a mother's love.
In 1919, on the fiftieth anniversary of her death he wrote another poem, called simply:
“IN MEMORIAM (Ann Baron died May 23rd 1869.)
The golden glory of a summer's day
Streams from the azure dome wide-arched on high
As blossoms tell the presence of sweet May,
Yet sadly I behold them with a sigh.
On such a day—remembered with a tear—
Grief's first great shadow o'er my life was thrown
Death struck (we recked not he was lurking near,)
The gentlest Teacher Youth had ever known.
Grieving at the loss of his wife John Baron decided to move and on Whit-Monday, 1870 the family came back to Blackburn. Within a few days of their return John Thomas got an apprenticeship as a fitter and turner at Dickinson's Phoenix Foundry Bank Top, the firm made looms and other textile machinery. He would remain there for the next fifteen years.
Phoenix Iron Foundry: John served his apprenticeship here as a fitter and turner
While still an apprentice he began to write poetry seriously and had some of them printed in various magazines including “Oldbury Lyrist," “Young Folks," “Rambler," “Echoes from the Lyre," and “Dick Snowdrop's Journal." His brother William latter recalled a tale about this journal, he said: “My brother had hardly passed out of his teens, but even at that early age he had written some fifty or sixty [poems] for the Journal, and was easily, with the exception of “Dick Snowdrop" himself, its most prolific contributor. One morning he received a letter from “Dick" inviting him for supper at the editor's domicile, as slight acknowledgement of his services, and needless to say, this bit of recognition on the part of his editor excited my brother considerably. On the appointed evening he set forth in high spirits, with visions of an epicurean banquet floating before his eyes. But alas, he was quickly to be disillusioned, for the feast he had so eagerly looked forward to eventually materialized into a plate of potato pie, and nothing more."
In an article for Blackburn Times in 1978, J.S. Miller wrote about John Thomas, he said: “He widened his experience by joining the local Artillery Volunteers, being promoted Sergeant when he was only 19—the youngest in the Corps. While engaged in manoeuvres at Southport, he gashed his thumb on a jagged part of the gun mechanism, and reported to the duty surgeon in order to have his wound attended. When the officer asked what on earth he had been doing, the poet promptly retorted, 'Shedding my blood for my country, Sir.'" He was to remain in the Volunteers for seven years.
The first poem he had printed in a newspaper appeared in the Blackburn Times of October 14th 1876, when he was twenty. The poem was called “Hope" and is written in plain verse. He also began to contribute poems to many other newspapers, including the “Blackburn Standard," “Preston Chronicle," “Blackpool Gazette," “The Oldham Chronicle," “The Accrington Times," and “The Blackburn Weekly Telegraph." His second poem in the Blackburn Times was printed on November 17th 1877 and was called “Art and Song" which Edwin Waugh, perhaps the greatest Lancashire poet of the time, had a great deal of admiration for and said that he hoped the author would long be spared to produce poetic work of such quality. John had no poems printed in the Blackburn Times in 1878; however, one appeared in the Preston Chronicle of August 1879 called “Song of the War King." All these were written in plain verse, he had not yet got into the dialect, at least not into getting it printed.
On Thursday May 1st 1879 at 5.30 in the morning, Montague-street Congregational Church held a “May Morning Breakfast" which attracted over 400 diners at a shilling a head. After the meal a public meeting was held when another 400 people came to watch the proceedings. They were entertained with music, recitations and speeches. Prizes were offered for the best two poems on the subject of “May Time," John won the first prize which was Tennyson's complete works in eleven volumes, he was twenty three years old at the time.
As a poet John used many nom-de-plumes “Trouncer," “Borona," “Jounty Baronious," “John Brannot," “Bob o' Clinkems," “Jacobite," “Tummy Tulip," “Byronic-B," “J.T.B." “John T. Baron," “Jo Hotbrann," “Baron." Another name he used was “Nora B," There were not many local female poets at this time and it was thought that “Nora B" was one of them. Perhaps he wanted to write some sentimental poems, which he felt he could not do using the name of a man. Eventually it was realised that “Nora B" was simply Baron backwards! His most famous non-de-plume by far was “Jack o' Ann's—this way of writing a name continued an old Lancashire custom, it means Jack of Ann's or Jack son of Ann—which he wrote most of his dialect work under. George Hull tells an amusing story in his book “The Poets and Poetry of Blackburn" (written in 1902) he says: “For a long time after Mr. Baron adopted the nom-de-plume of “Jack o'Ann's," he kept his identity secret… While on his way to work, Mr, Baron met, in Salford an old shop mate who had often read and admired the poems, signed “John T. Baron" or “J.T.B."… This admirer asked his poet friend if he could tell him “who that `Jack o' Ann's` was?" Our poet answered evasively, that he was not at liberty to divulge printing-office secrets; and this answer proved affective. When, however they had parted at the bottom of Eanam brow the inquirer suddenly stopped and called out to the poet, some forty yards away—
“Well; what's up?"
“Tha's written some fairish bits i' th' pappers neaw an' ageon; but tha'rt a foo compared to yon `Jack o' Ann's.`"
In May 1877 John married Sarah Watson with whom he had seven children, four boys and three girls, sadly two of the boys died in infancy. He wrote a poem to the memory of one of his dead sons (see below.) In 1885 he left Dickinson's foundry and moved to Henry Livesey's Greenbank works, where he was to remain for the rest of his working life. About a year after this change, on October 30th 1886 he had his first dialect poem printed in the Blackburn Times under his pen name “Jack o' Ann's." He had expected to see it in the usual poet's corner of the newspaper, but to his surprise the Times printed it in a place of its own and called it “Rhymes in the Dialect." The poem was called “A Comfortable Smook." The following week—November 6th 1886—a short poem called “Audley" by a poet with the initials “W.P" appeared in the “Rhymes in the Dialect" column, with “Jack o' Ann's dialect poem “To the River Blakewater" appearing in the usual poets corner.
The next dialect poem John had printed in “Rhymes in the Dialect" was a very touching poem called “Johnny's Clogs." This poem was about the loss of one of his children. I have copied it in full:
Howd on, theer! Dunnot use 'em rough but put 'em gently deawn;
They're nobbut hawf-worn clogs to yo, wi' tops o' musty breawn;
To me, they're sacred links 'at bind my thowts to one i' th' mowd;
Eawr Johnny wore those clogs afooar Deeath med him stiff an' cowed;
They're but a pair o' little clogs, wi' irons rusty red,
Yet thowts they wakken i' my heart, ov a life-star 'at's fled.
For th' gloom o' grief seems darker neaw, an' Life's nowt near as sweet
As when he used to welcome me wi' hooam smiles every neet.
Tho' th' sod's bin o'er him money a while, to life he's gi'en a grace;
Oft reawnd my cot aw wond'ring stare—there's summat eawt o' place.
Thad lad wur th' best mate 'at aw hed i' sunshine or i' storm.
Wur aw a King, my creawn aw'd give, to clip th' familiar form.
No other eye could shine like his; his speech, so soft an' mild,
Fell o' my ears like music-strains,—he wur my darling child.
No hand seemed hawf so nice to grip, nor greetin' e'er so kind
As his; an' neaw aw seem to hear his voice I' every wind.
Last neet, aw see a little star, 'at fairly pleased my eye,
It seemed o ov a flutter theer, heigh up i' th' dusky sky.
An' then a thowt flashed thro' my mind 'at med my eyeseet dim.
He wur My child! Aw stood on th' earth an' looked tort Heaven' on him.
Con he be waitin' for me theer, hawf-way fro' th' gowden Throne?
Wur them his wings 'at fluttered breet heigh i' thoose realms unknown?
His bonny face seems allus near, an' th' love for him shall be
Held sacred i' this heart o' mine reight to Eternity.
For the next thirty-three years he was the sole contributor to “Rhymes in the Dialect" and not once did he miss handing in a dialect poem for the column. George Hull says that after his first poem was printed in “Rhymes" he never wrote anything for another newspaper.
It should be remembered that while he wrote his weekly contribution to the Times he was working full time at Livesey's Greenbank Foundry, he was also was an official for the Amalgamated Society of Engineers. To their credit Henry Livesey's gave him time off to fulfil his writing obligation to the Blackburn Times when he become well known as a poet.
In 1889 on Edwin Waugh's 71st birthday, John wrote a poem which he dedicated to the writer, it was called “To Edwin Waugh (on his 71st birthday") which had the prefix “Tha good owd King o' Trumps—God bless thi silver yure!" At this time Waugh was living in Brighton and so John sent him a copy of the poem together with a letter. Waugh wrote back: “It's a cheering thing at my time of life to feel that I have the friendship and good wishes of so many of the people of my native county."
According to George Hull John Thomas wrote “for amusement rather than the instruction of the reader", he seemed to enjoyed writing poems describing events, such as New Years, Valentine's day, Pancake Tuesday, Easter, and Christmas, although these were annual events the poems he wrote about them when their times came around were never the same. He also wrote about the annual holidays, about going on and coming back from.
By 1906 John had been writing for “Rhymes in the Dialect," for 20 years and on the 13th of January of that year, he had his one thousandth poem printed in that column, The poem was called “'Lectioneerin" it told of the troubles a man went through on the days leading up to an election, how he was pesterd by his friends, neighbours and politicians trying to win him over to their way of thinking. In the same Issue George Hull wrote a poem and called it “A Tribute To Jack o'Ann's"
An article printed in the Blackburn Times for the occasion said: “it would be absurd to claim that every single rhyme…would satisfy a highly critical taste, but when we recall the fact that the “Rhymes" which are from half to three-quarters of a column long, have never once failed to appear at the appointed time…we are filled with amazement." The article goes on to tell how John had over the years been in correspondence with such well-known authors and poets as Harrison Ainsworth, Samuel Carter Hall, Ruskin, and R.D. Blackmore who all applauded his dialect and plain verse poetry. It also quotes John as saying: “I have endeavoured at all times to give my readers something fresh and tried to show the people just as they are or were. My great aim has been to be a help and consolation to my fellow workers. My greatest difficulty is to find a suitable subject that found, the rest is fairly easy."
John carried on writing poems for the Blackburn Times until June 1919 when, at 63 years old, he suffered a serious illness, which confined him to his bed. The illness prevented him contributing his poetry the Blackburn Times and the Editor reprinted some of his older work beginning with “A Comfortable Smook." William, his brother, said that during this illness when he found he was unable to contribute to the Blackburn Times, he cried like a baby. By October however John was on the mend and on the 16th of that month he resumed his “Rhymes in the Dialect" with a poem called “A Day at Blackpool." Once again John was writing a poem a week for his “Rhymes in the Dialect" and he continued for a further two years until 1921. On the 7th of June 1921 his brother William received a letter at his home in Rochdale from John. William said: “The feeble and uneven scrawl off the envelope—so unlike his usual flowing hand-writing—filled me with fears and misgivings, and these were only too speedily realised as I opened the letter and hastily scanned its contents." It told William that his brother was seriously ill and he wanted him to go immediately to his home. When William arrived there he was shocked at the great change in his brother. The once strong and healthy man had wasted to a shadow. He was however still cheerful and they talked of the old days, of authors and poets. Old friends of the poet were constantly visiting the house. One fellow poet who visited the house was John “Jack" Rawcliffe who was about to sail the following day for a new life in America. During their conversation the name of William Billington came up and some comment was made about the poets work. At that Jack Rawcliffe jumped up and said: “Neaw aw'm nooan avin' a word ageon Billington's poetry, becose moast on it's gradley good stuff, but no poet should write on subjects as he knows nowt abeawt, an' that's what he's done. For instance, just tek his poem, “Look under t' leeoves iv yo want ony nuts." Why its ridiculous, to say t' leeast on't. Nuts ripen i' t' sun, as every foo' knows, and yo'll hev to look aboon t' leeaves for em not under, iv yo want to find ony. But ther's one thing certain, if Billington hed bin forced to gooa gatherin' nuts to fill place o' butter cakes, like eawr Dick an' me hed to do mony a time as lads, he'd hev known better than to mek sich a silly blunder."
John Rawcliffe poet and friend of John Thomas Baron
With much difficulty John continued writing Rhymes in the Dialect until December 31st 1921 when he contributed his last poem called “A December Nights' Dream." His health was rapidly deteriorating, and on February 3rd 1922 he died at his home at 92 Scotland Road aged 65. The funeral took place on Wednesday 8th of February when he was interred in the Blackburn cemetery, Whalley New-road. As well as family many of his old friends also attended the funeral including George Hull, the author, James Rostron, Editor of the Blackburn Times, and Mr and Mrs. Robinson who represented the Lancashire Authors' Association.
On March 17th 1924 the Mayor and Mayoress welcomed the Lancashire Authors Association to Blackburn when they held a commemorative meeting for John at the lecture hall. They talked of the contributions John had made to dialect poetry and also discussed the direction dialect poetry was going. Someone suggested that it would be a grand memorial to Jack o' Ann's if a selection of his work could be made into a book, but this was never done. After the meeting they moved onto the library where, in the art gallery an enlarged photograph of John Thomas Baron framed in oak was unveiled by William Baron and presented to the Corporation. The frame had the inscription “John Thomas Baron, “Jack o' Ann's," author of Rhymes in the Dialect. Born March 1st 1856, died February 3rd 1922. Presented by the Lancashire Authors' Association, March 1923."
After this they went to the cemetery where the chairman of the L.A.A. laid a laurel wreath at the poet's grave. The day finished with tea and a public meeting back at the lecture hall, where James Baron, one of John's sons, read a poem written by his father.
In his day John Thomas Baron was a very popular and prolific local poet. In 35 years he wrote about 1,800 dialect poems for the Blackburn Times. It is thought that he must have wrote at least 3000 poems altogether.
Expatriates from all over the world who had their origins in East Lancashire and had the Blackburn Times delivered through the post would contact the paper saying how the poems of Jack o' Anns brought a little bit of Lancashire to their adopted part of the world.
It is unfortunate and surprising that a compilation of his poetry was not put together until 1978. At that time his great-grandson, John Baron of Accrington made an anthology of almost 150 poems by John Thomas Baron and called it appropriately “A Cotton Town Chronicle." In it are verse in both dialect and plain verse and is well worth reading if you can borrow a copy.
The grave of John Thomas Baron at Blackburn's Whalley New Road Cemetery
I will finish by giving you the very first poem “Jack o' Anns" wrote for the column Rhymes in the Dialect.
“A Comfortable Smook."
Aw,m bothered nooan wi' acres broad, nor burdened mitch wi' wealth;
For tried friends aw've a ready hand, an'for misel' good health!
When work is o'er, at hooam aw sit i' th' cosy cheer i' th' nook,
An' reych my pipe deawn to enjoy a comfortable smook.
There's doctors, nobs, an' simple fooak, wi' faces long an' pale,
'At's fairly shocked at pun or jooak or gradley merry tale.
They say as 'bacco's pisenous, an' dolefully they look
On every hearty cock who loves a comfortable smook.
It's nowt to me, they suit thersels, they've narrow hearts an' brains;
They suit thersel's—but nobr'y else,—an' ged chaffed for their pains.
Mi grondad wur a veteran bowd, who fowt wi' th' “Iron Duke."
He oft enjoyed—an' sooa will aw!—a comfortable smook.
When sorrows linger reawnd my mind, an' try to poo me deawn,
Aw leet my pipe—a puff o' wind, an' troubles leave my creawn.
They ged i' th' draft wi' t' smook; up flue they fly, an' quit my nook.
There's nowt 'at kills care sooner than a comfortable smook.
It's th' true philosophy o' life to tek things as they come;
An' if yo have a gradely wife an' childer reet at home,
Yo' needn't cry o'er th' Past, nor try to peer i' th' Future's book;
Use th' Present weel, an' calmly tek a comfortable smook.
I' winter time, when neets are dark, an' blustry winds blow cowd,
My pipe, lit wi' contentment's spark, brings hooamly joys untowd.
When summer fleawrs i' th' sunleet gleeam aw ramble deawn bi th' brook,
An' birds sing for me while aw hev a comfortable smook.
Aw've oft watched th' smook arise an' curl i' queer shapes o'er my head,
But queerer thowts hev filled my brain wi' th' fancies 'at they've bred.
Like 'bacco, Life soon burns away, eawr ashes gooa to th' rook;
So while Life lasts, live reight, an' tek a comfortable smook!
by Stephen Smith
back to top