Come, lads and lasses, frame yersens!
We’r bahn ter t’ Christmas Crack,
Fer tales an’ poims in t’Yorksher tongue,
As wi’ tu’n wer clocks all back
Ter t’ days o’ wer youth, an’ t’ days o’ yore,
An’ fu’ther back still ter long afooare,
When t’ stars shone dahn yon neet
On t’ dawnin o’ treeuth an’ leet
In a bit of a mistal wi muck all rahnd
An’ theeare in t’ midst yon shepherds fahnd
T’ babby in ‘ippins all wahrmly lapped,
An t’ three Wise Men, all on ‘em capped
At such a gloorious seet!
Nay, we’r not same as fowk tha sees terday,
Spendin the’r brass wi’ Christmas greed…
Wi s’ll think o’t’ meantn o’ yon grand day
An’ think of all t’ childer born i’ need
Wi s’ll do t’job reight – an’ then wi s’ll mak
This year’s Christmas really crack!
For liftin low sperrits ther’s no fowk can whack us:
We’r baht comic ’ats – but we’r reight Christmas Crackers!
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