Lancashire Lantern: Lancashire Poetry Index

Part of the Lancashire Lantern network, an index to authors, first lines and titles of Lancashire poetry in books held within libraries in Lancashire, including the Lancashire Authors’ Association collection. The index provides details of the book in which a particular poem may be found and also a link through to the library catalogue to give the locations of the required volume.

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Na' Mary Breawn geet reet upset

Naah, all yo foak uts fond o'lore

Nails for those wearied feet

Naked must be the swan whose feathers come

Nation that budded slow, to bloom at length

Nations decline: alas, for martial pride

Naw ah 'ave a Grannie Bradshaw

Naw mi Grondad 'ad a silver watch

Nay this owd chap as lived next door

Nay, ask me not to leave this grave

Nay, I'm moithered, fairly maddled

Nay, mighty Master of all Melody!

Nay, this day shan't go songless by

Nean, I lads just yer yon throstle sing

Near Broadstone Clough, in Saddleworth

Near Broadstone Moors, in Saddleworth

Near the ancient town of Poulton

Near to Ardhonnel Inish Erreth lies

Near velvet sward and gay paterre

Neat lines of soldiers

Neau let mi tell thi lad

Neaw aw've getten a tale to tell thi

Neaw gather reawnd ye Lanky folk

Neaw Harvey Kershaw's poetry book

Neaw I were born and bred I' Bash, up yon wild and windy hill

Neaw if yo' favvour grand company

Neaw if yo'r wantin' what they co'n a literary treat

Neaw John Tommy Tupper wer' fifteen yer owd

Neaw lads, wheer are yo beawn' so fast

Neaw Lankysheer music to Lankysheer folk

Neaw my tackler's cawd Jim - 'ee's a Lancashire lad

Neaw som' folk keep parrots, pet dogs, an oal that

Neaw t' sea were high, an' t' wind were strung

Neaw t' seawnd o' t'sea's a funny seawnd

Neaw t' tale ah'm gooin fer t'tell yer

Neaw t' tap-rawm lads i' t' Crown one neet

Neaw th' fost thing aw'll explain mi case

Neaw th' wife's i' bed, an' th' childer too

Neaw then! Keep eawt o'mischief, do

Neaw then, o yoh naybors, yoh'r fere op o'th' 'itch

Neaw Tim Toggs an' Joe Juce wer' two contrary chaps

Neaw Tum Brown was a little piecer lad

Neaw what does this word 'gradely' mean?

Neaw when mi dad bowt a moticar

Neaw when yo' come to eawr meetin's

Neaw whether aw succeed or fail

Neaw women, God bless yo'! Yo' know aw'm yo'r friend

Neaw, clock, let's learn fro' tuneful Spring

Neaw, Jim, why wilto pine an' fret?

Neaw, lads, just yer yon throstle sing

Neaw, lads, wheer are yo' beawn so fast?

Neaw, Matty, lass, come dhreigh thi e'm

Neaw, Ned, we're meetin' here to-neet

Neaw, then, what's this grumblin' an' growlin' abeawt

Neaw, wimmen, if yo'll howd yo'r clack

Neaw, women, God bless yo! yo know aw'm yo'r friend

Neaw, young Jerry wur allus a swell

Ned Barlow, could fairly play t' trumpet

Ned Waugh said Pinder waur a foo'

Neddy o' Joan's, fro' th' Four Loyne Ends

Ne'er mind, let fooak say whod they will

Ne'er since Creation's dawn, did mortal eyes

Ne'er tell me that time can erase from the mind

Nervously I approached her shrunken frame

Never ' is a high blank wall

Never a morrow but can borrow

Never desapir, though skies gloom over thee

Never have the poets told us

Never heed wod foos may say

Never in any day

Never more in the streets of Blackburn I'll meet thee

Never more the rush and rattle

Never start something that you cannot finish

Never tell me that childer are tiresome

Never were e'en

New neighbours rang to thank me

New problems are propounded every hour

Next day, when Dobson woke with aching head

Nigh fifty years have sped since, looking down

Night - a dark and lowering sky

Night- and the City's cry, a waning croon

Night as black as the fabled pit

Night carnation

Night is falling over the town and the wind

Night must it be ere Friedland's star shall shine

Night on the Thames, and yonder flush of light

Nimble fingers on the banjo pluck the veil of Long-ago down

No beauty rarer than the moon

No braver lad e'er walk'd the wood

No call, you think, for panic yet

No deawt it ud look a deol better o' me

No deawt yo've heeard speyk uv Owd Turpin

No doubt situations arise which are unavoidable

No dreams are there, but deep perpetual year

No eager nose to jerk my elbow high

No Howess, please, in plastic hoods

No ice cream chimes! But ice cream carts came round

No impulse needs the enamoured soul to chase

No life is lived in vain

No love-song is this

No mistake, a sheep on a high stone wall

No mon's better known than th' owd parson

No moore fer me, yon draughty heawse

No more of grief: - the viol is awake

No more the way for working craft

No muffled bell in mournful tone

No need to turn green

No niche in fame for learned store

No one has seen

No one is perfect, that we know

No rhyme, no reason

No room was there, at the crowded inn

No royal robes doth the maiden wear

No Saxon font, or Norman towers

No skylark I, to scale the blue

No sorrows we know in these realms of delight

No sower ever sowed a better seed

No sweeter song could e'er be heard

No sweeter song was ever heard

No tale is told of our heroes bold

No tale is told of our own heroes bold

No village fete could ever be complete

No, I'd rather stand, thank you. Sorry it's so late

No, it's hardly the latest that's going, this shabby old bamboo of mine

No, my beloved Friend! there is but One

No, they can never tempt me now

No. 12 a long room built under the eaves, tri-

Noble old pile! How oft I stop to gaze

None that have long lived in one house alone

No-one has time to think of now

Nor gods, nor men, nor columns,' Horace cried

Nor in the city, nor the crowded town

Norman and Saxon mingle here

Nostalgia - fed, my loyal heart long yearned

Not again, O surely not again, dear lady

Not all at once doth the broad flowing river

Not all nuns these days, dress in starched hats and veils

Not all the Rothschild's wealth, one moment, weighs

Not content with eyes

Not costly gems I offer thee on this thy bridal day

Not even if you went on hands and knees

Not every one who readeth Lamb

Not fit for business! That judgement was passed on him

Not for me a cruising ship, all "matched luggage"

Not for us

Not half a league from yon old tow'r

Not human speech nor human wail can tell

Not in the crowded city, where men squander

Not in the earthquake, not in the fire

Not meekness; but the fire and vim

Not on my kness praising god

Not one to tell the tale of that dread night

Not solely that thou speakest of the hour

Not such a place was this for thoughts of laughter nor of mirth

Not the Circean wine

Not the famed looms of Arras or of Ghent

Not with the rich in houses cool and pleasant

Not yet can I reach the mountain height

Nothing is lost; the drop of dew

Nothing is sol telling as Silence

November sun, November sun

Now adown the western slope

Now autumn's cool and cleansing hand

Now Barber Bill's a sailor

Now comes the choice between two fears

Now comes the merrie, merrie May

Now darkly comes o'er Broadstone's fading height

Now electors

Now falls the lingering glory of the sun

Now far from Old England, away from cold England

Now ferry me o'er, thou good boatman

Now fill ye up your goblets high

Now gentle Peace with all her smiling train

Now has the old year done his embassy

Now hush'd that merry pipe for aye

Now I have two teenage daughters

Now if yo'll mak' a less noise an' hearkin a bit

Now I'm a cock chicken, on that you'll agree

Now in these last spent drops, slow, slower shed

Now into mist and remoteness fade the far lights of the village

Now is a constant warning stroke

Now is the golden time, mellow time

Now is the tolling time

Now ken ye yonder shady walk

Now lovers wander far and free

Now mi dad said, like his pidgins

Now my blocked mouth is loosed. My eyes

Now Nature licks in fairy bloom

Now nature tricks in fairy bloom

Now Nelly's had some real close shaves I've told you about before

Now o'er the topmost pine

Now of all the colours that shimmer or shine

Now radiant Autumn brings Harvest again

Now rose Aurora rubbing drowsy lids

Now shadows have lifted

Now She is old and frayed

Now silver threads begin to shine

Now somewhere in the black mountain hills of Dakota

Now that every heart rejoices

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