Geo. Leybourne's New Song of the
LANCASHIRE LASS.
You may talk of young girls, but none can surpass,
My dear little charmer that comes from Oldham,
Fresh and as sweet as the newly mown grass,
Is my little Polly the Lancashire Lass;
She's eves so blue, and teeth so white,
Her hair is brown, her step is light,
Her ankle its a perfect mite,
My beautiful Lancashire Lass.
My Lancashire Lass, there's none can surpass,
My Lancashire Lass for style and beauty
My Lancashire Lass — come fill your glass,
And drink to the health of my Lancashire Lass.
The way that I won her is strange you will say,
'Twas one afternoon that I went to Bellevue,
A young friend of mine was there for the day,
And took little Polly for whom he'd to pay;
When first we met I soon could see,
That with his chance 'twas all U P,
And so I asked her if she'd have me,
This beautiful Lancashire Lass.
She said she'd be mine, and she swore to be true,
We've since been like doves, billing and cooing!
We never fall out as some lovers do,
And she has some money betwixt me and you;
She bought this watch which now I wear,
If she dout mind, well I don't care,
She says that her fortune I shall share,
My beautiful Lancashire Lass.
She's published the banns, we're going to be wed;
I leave those matters for her to settle,
To-morrow, for time so quickly has fled,
The Lancashire Lass to the church will be led;
I need not work while there's a purse,
To the idea I'm not averse,
And perhaps one day I may have to nurse
A sweet little Lancashire Lass.
