Ti muck hersen sha ’edn’t heart,
An’ sha c’u’dn’t bake a leeaf or tart,
That lass fra Lunnon.
Sha’d lig back iv a basket cheear,
An’ fairly cap yan wiv her hair—
Ah’ve seen mah missus stan’ an’ stare
At t’ lass fra Lunnon.
Sha wad laak at crickets leyke a lad,
An’ carry on leyke yan ’at’s mad,
Bud sha wadn’t mend a thing sha ’ed,