n,
An'd then wur bad luck an' misfortunes began;
For before Ginger Jabus cud draw us anuther,
All went on wrong an' we'd a gert deal o' bother;
He must ha' been dreamin, a silly oud claan,
For three fields o' Doodle's he never put daan.

But Jack Metcauf put up wi' that for he sed he'd allah
'At th' misfortune wur caused wi th' greedy oud kaa;
So be set all his navvies agate in a hig,
An' thay upset a chapel at th' Paper Mill Brig;
Na th' folk dropp'd thair lugs an wur daan o'th' Railway,
But we gat ower that bit wi' hevin' to pay.

Nah Ike finished off in his dashin' oud way,
An' th' folk wur all shaatin', hear, hear! and hurra,
For heigher and heigher the band it wur playin',
An' nobody cud hear a word thay wur sayin',
For th' clappin' an' shaatin' it lasted awhile,
For I clapped wal mi hands wur as sore as a bile.

Nah, I'll tell yo wat, folk, yo tawk abaat storms,
An' thunner an' leetning, an' dreadful alarms,
But th' applause thare wur wen he'd dun,
Thare wur niver nowt heard like it under th' sun,
For wat wi laad music, huraaing an' cheers,
Th' folk wur so suited thay gaaped at both ears.

As for thee, Jonny Broth, it's a pity I knaw
For thart one o'th' best drivers at iver I saw,
An' nobody can grumble at wat tha hes dun,
If this bus driven wearisome race it is run;
For who cud grumble ha fine wur thur cloth,
To ride up to Haworth wi' oud Jonny Broth.

So Jonny, mi lad, don't thee mak onny fuss,
I' shutting thi horses, or sellin' thi Bus;
For if th' railway hes dun thee, thare's one thing I knaw
Tha mud mak o'th' oud Bus a stunnin' peep show,
An' if I meet thee at Lunden, tho two hundred miles,
I sall patronise thee if it be in St. Giles.

An' if any one else hes a complaint to mak,
Doant let em say it behint yor back,
But cum up to th' front an' dunnot be flaid,
If he's owt aat o' pockets I'll see at he's paid;
For all theas small trubbles I want to decide,
An' them at's been wrong'd to be satisfied.

For all native exiles are welcum once more
To cum back agean to thair awn native shore;
Even theas at hed hookt it an' left it i'th' lurk,
An' wur flaid at they'd awet if thay happened to work,
Can cum back agean to thair awn native place,
If thay think thay can fashion to show up thair face.

So strike up yor music an' give it sum maath,
An' welcum a