Many’s the time ah’ve thowt of aal the scran
That in this country year on year we waste;
Yet ah knaa there’s some dinna give a damn
About how the starving multitudes are placed.
Well, they should, an’ they’ve nee excuse;
If we were less generous win oursels
There’d be mair ter gan rund and less abuse
Of this world’s pristine valleys, woods and fells.
Even the produce of our local fields
If thuh taks a luk, thoo’ll see gets wasted;
Thuh dizzent need ter gan ter the far-off wealds
Whence come the hops thoo’s often tasted.
Just tak a luk in Durham’ tatie-fields
In Autumn efter tatie-pickin’ time
An’ aal the way from here ter South Shields
See the big fat chippers in their prime
Just left ter rot: well isn’ that a crime?
Tony Kelly, Crook