Old fellow old fellow
where for art thou old fellow

I'm in t'shed wi whippet and tin bath
his filthy from his walk on t'crags
you should ha seen him what a laugh
chasing through t'mud a plastic bag


Oh Fred you said it were too wet
to go a walking on t' pit top
your boots are caked in mud I'll bet
oh I bet thy breath sticks high of pop


Quiet woman can you not see
I'm as sober as a judge
so get yer back to makin t'tea
as I wash off me boots of sludge


She is the moan this northern lass
that makes me old heart flutter
but just one more word of disrespect
and I'll head in there and nut her


He is the pain makes me old heart ache
and the one that brings me t'laughter
but I'll **** him soon as look at him
if he don't respect that I'm a grafter


Teas on t'table drippings hot
there's fresh bread in the oven
by heck lass that there's real class
I love yer, yers a good un


So no Romeo nor Juliet
just honest homely folk
whom now the worth of mother earth
and the value of a joke

Let's leave em be in kitchen warm
wi the humblest of fayre
for Yorkshire folk are t'salt of earth
and I know coz I live there.