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Lyrics for Cushie Butterfield by Unknown:
| | | Artist: | Unknown |
| | Album: | Unknown | | Track: | Cushie Butterfield | | | | Date Added: | 18/10/2007 | | Views: | 311 | | | | Lyrics: | Cushie Butterfield
(George Ridley 1834-1864)
I's a
broken-hearted keelman and I's over head in love
With a young lass in Gateshead and I call her
my dove.
Her name's Cushie Butterfield and she sells yellow clay,
And her cousin is a
muckman and they call him Tom Grey.
cho: She's a big lass and a bonny lass and she likes
her beer
And they call her Cushie Butterfield and I wish she was here.
Her eyes
is like two holes in a blanket burnt through
Her brows in a morning would spyen a young
cow
And when t' hear her shouting Will you buy any clay?
Like a candyman's trumpet it
steals my heart away
You'll oft see her down at Sandgate when the fresh herring
come
She's like a bag full of sawdust tied round with a string
She wears big galoshes too
and her stockings once was white
And her petticoat's lilac and her hat's never
straight
When I axed her to marry me she started to laugh
Now none of your monkey
tricks for I like ne such chaff
Then she started a blubbing and she roared like a bull
And
the chaps on the quay says I's nought but a fool
She says the chap that gets her must
work every day
And when he comes home at nights he must gang and seek clay
And when he's
away seeking she'll make balls and sing
O well may the keel row that my laddie's
in.
*spyen - to dry up a cow's milk
A parody of a music hall hit.
See also
POLLYPRK
@love @parody
filename[ CUSHBUTT
play.exe POLLYPRK
RG
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