Mick Haywood's Song Wordbook

Leeds Years

illustration of an old machine

Rag grinding machine

Willy 'Ole Lad


This is another of Keith Marsden’s Morley Opus, this one about a father giving his daughter advice about marrying a 'Willey Hole Lad', a young lad who tended a willeying machine, and one of the lowest paid jobs in the shoddy and textile industry. The ‘Willeyer’ was the machine operator who loaded the rags and woolens, after they had been sorted and scoured, into the rag grinding machine.

The machine separates and breaks up the matted fibre, shakes out the dirt and other impurities, when they've been cleaned and ground, the rags and woolens have to be spread on the floor and sprinkled with oil, before the second willeying process called ‘teasing’ take place.
The cleaned and ground rags are then fed into a ‘teaser machine’, which tears them up by passing them a series of teeth covered rollers.
Before the fibres can be either spun or woven they have to go through two further processes called scribbling and carding.

Willy 'Ole Lad

Oh, Mary, lass, what's this you're doing, and what's this you're getting into?
We're respectable folk and we're Chapel, so yon city lad will not do.
Your mother was always a mender. Your grandma before her was, too.
I started off low but I'm head spinner now,
So a Willy-'Ole lad's not for you.

Chorus:
And I dare say he's young now and handsome,
And his eyes are a fine smiling blue,
But he's clogs and he'll always be clogs, lass.
Yon Willy-'Ole lad's not for you.


He'll never have seat to his trousers; he'll never have jam for your bread.
No five pound a week house like ours is, but a back-to-back midden instead.
And one kid a year till you're thirty, then a worn out old woman you'll rue
That you shook your soft head when your old father said,
"Yon Willy-'Ole lad's not for you".

When he's forty and fat with the boozing and the women he's had turn away,
When his money on horses he's losing while you've still the rent man to pay,
When it's always your fault with the nagging and the beer makes him nasty and bad,
When you lie there and dread that he'll want you in bed,
Will you still love your Willy-'Ole lad?

So if you want my consent to wed him, lass, I fear you'll be wanting a while.
If it's him that you meet at the altar, then it won't be my arm down the aisle.
Just cherish your grace for a while, lass, and dream silly dreams while you can.
When you've spent all your youth, you'll have long years for truth,
With your lad still a Willy-'Ole man.

About Mick

Mick Haywood is a traditional folk singer & folk song collector who has run and organised folk clubs and festivals for many years. He now lives in Whitby, North Yorkshire.