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Cushie Butterfield

Aa’m a broken-hearted keelman
An Aa’m ower heed in love
Wi a young lass from Gatesheed
An I caall hor me dove.
Hor name’s Cushie Butterfield
An she haaks yella clay
Her cousin’s a muckman
An the’ call him Tom Gray.

She’s a big lass
She’s a bonny lass
An she likes hor beer
An the call hor Cushie Butterfield
An Aa wish she was here.

Her eyes is like two holes
In a blanket bornt through
An her breath in the mornin
Would spyen a young coo.
And when Aa hear her caallin’
Will you buy ony clay?
Like a candyman’s trumpet
She stole me young heart away.


Ye’ll oft see her doon at Sandgate
When the fresh herring comes in
She’s like a bagful o sawdust
Tied round with string
She wears big galoshes too
And her stockins once was white
Her bedgown it’s lilac;
An her hat’s nivver strite.


When I axed her to marry is
She started to laugh:
“Noo, Nyen o’ yer monkey tricks
For Aa like nee sich chaff”
Then she started abubblin’
An roared like a bull
An the lads on the Keel sez
Aa’s nowt but a fyeul


She sez “The chep that gets is
He’ll heh te work ivvery day
An when he comes hyem at neet
He’ll need to gan an seek clay.
An when he away seekin it
Aall myek baals an sing
O weel may the keel row
That my laddie’s in.”


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