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I come from Yorkshire, pal.
Any Southerner knows that;
They can tell by my accent
And regulation flat ‘at.
From my fellow Yorkies
There’s no way of hiding
I have that twang
That says from the East Riding.

Not from North York’s,
Speech more Geordie like,
Nor talk like the Wessies
But still all fellow Tykes,
All living here up North
Enjoying the bounty
Of the Texas of England
God’s own Fair County.

We don’t all keep whippets
Or scrounge on the dole,
Though they’ve nearly killed steel
And wiped out King Coal;
And we know our life is shorter
Than those living down south
And it’s not Estuary English
That pours from each mouth.

And we don’t pull the forelock
To our so called betters
Nor write worried of Cheltenham
Whinging complaining letters;
We just carry on surviving
In spite of all that’s gone
And pity those south of Sheffield,
At t'other end of the M1.

And I know

For what its Worth

Its just by

An accident of birth

But I come from Yorhshire mate

And I’ll say it out loud

I come from Yorkshire mate

And it makes me right proud.

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