Cushie Butterfield

Aa's a brokem hairted keelman and as's ower heed in luv
Wiv a young lass in Gyetsid and Aa caall hor me duv
Hor nyem's Cushie Butterfield and she sells yalla clay
And her cousin is a muckman and they caall 'im Tom Gray.

She's a big lass an' a bonnie lass an' she likes hor beor
An' they caall hor Cushie Butterfield and Aa wish she was heor.

Hor eyes is like two holes in a blanket bornt throo
An' hor broos iv a mornin' wad spyen a yung coo
An' wnen Aa heer hor shoutin' - 'Will ye buy ony clay?'
Like a candyman's trumpet, it steals me yung hart away.

Ye'll oft see hor doon at Sangit when the fresh harrin comes in
She's like a bagfull o' saadust tied round wiv a string
She wears big galoshes tee, an' hor stockins once was white
An' hor bedgoon it's laelock, an' hor hat's nivver strite.

When Aa axed hor to marry us, she started te laff
'Noo, nyen o' you monkey tricks, for aa like nee sic chaff.'
Then she started a' bubblin' an' roared like a bull
An' the cheps on the Keel ses Aa's nowt but a fyuel.

She ses the chep 'et gets us 'ill heh te work ivvery day
An' when he comes hyem at neets he'll heh to gan an' seek clay
An' when he's away seekin' Aa'll myek baals an' sing
O weel may the keel row that ma laddie's in.

A less "regional" version:
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.

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.

*yellow clay was used for polishing doorsteps
**Spyen = dry up a cow's milk