‘As tha ivver been ter Pudsey
The Paris of our Shire
T’Church stands aut fer miles ‘n’ miles
Yet it doesn’t boast a spire
Tha needn’t go ter Brussels
Ter get a bit o’lace
Just pop up on a Sunday
An’ browse rand t’Market place
Tek a lewk at snowy Post ‘Ill
The view is ally’s grand
Tha needn’t go to t’continent
It’s just like Switzerland
They do say as we ‘ave some mines
Wheer t’treacle simply oozes
It’s wheerabouts are not quite knawn
Tha just picks wheer tha chooses
We’ve also gotten them queer birds
Back’ards they’re said ter fly
If tha didn’t knaw, ah’ll tell thee
It’s to keep muck aht their eye
Lowtahn, Chapeltahn an Greenside
Fartahn an’ Kent, Wotterloo
Full o’ industrious people
Mebbe one of ‘em is you
But wheerever tha may travel
Wheerever tha may roam
T’good owd adage still remains
There ain’t no place like ‘ome
If tha does decide ter go away
Let it even be o’erseas
Tek a good lewk at all t’views
They’ll nivver beat all these
An’ when it comes ter shoppin’
Fer all yer many needs
Just up into Pudsey Tahn –
No need to traipse to Leeds
Transcripts from Yorkshire Brass from a Yorkshire Lass By Kate Glover
Rediscovered in a folder, in the bottom of a cupboard, in the local history section of Pudsey Library.
