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by Marriott Edgar
Illustrations by John Hassall
Today in the 21st century 'hood, the term "sparrow grass" probably means marijuana used by plump little feathered creatures, or alternatively, a junior gang member who rats on his dodgy mates to the cops.
But in the early 20th century, with this vegetable's short growing season, it was not such a familiar dish in Northern England. It was seen mainly on tables of those who would use the more refined term: Asparagus, and served for us in this monologue by Marriott Edgar.
Mr Ramsbottom went to the races, He felt himself suddenly tempted He were crunching the claws at the finish | |
For Mother were dead against racing These homely domestic reflections 'Twere a bit ofa job to decide on He saw some strange stuff in a fruit shop "That's Ass-paragus-what the Toffs eat" He started off home with his purchase |
Buying the asparagus |
He knew when she heard he'd been racing He had hardly got up to the counter "It's 'sparagus stuff what the Toffs eat" |
He cut all the tips off one bundle, When he got home the 'ouse were in dark ness, He got in without waking Mother, |
Meeting his friends at the local |
Ma tries to light fire |
But when he woke up in the morning He shouted "What's up theer in t' kitchen?" |