T'owld bugga's reached seventy,
Made ‘is three score ‘n' ten
But knowin' t'owld bugga he'll
Just start countin' off fra' yan agen.
With his venerable owld Martin,
A source of quiet pride,
The Main Coons, the Beardies
And his Missiz by his side,
And somewheer not far off
Owld Hank will be singin' a song
An'‘ere in my mind ah'm there
An' we're baith singin' along.
A friendship from t'villages
Way back in our joint past
That's stood the test o' time
And looks like it'll bluddee last.
All them long short years sin'
When we were chasin' local lasses
Who the ‘eck would've thought
We'd be raisin' up our glasses,
Mebbe not wi' John Smith's,
Last yan was don't know when,
To towst t' owld bugga fer‘ avin'
Reached' ‘is three score ‘n' ten.