I'Ve Worn My Bits O' Shoon Away Poem by Edwin Waugh

I've worn my bits o' shoon away,
Wi' Rovin' up an' deawn,
To see yon moorlan' valleys, an'
Yon little country teawn:
The dule tak' shoon an' stockin's too!
My heart feels hutchin'-fain;
An', if I trudge it bar-fuut, lads,
I'll see yon teawn again!

It's what care I for cities grand,-
We never shall agree;
I'd rayther live where Th' layrock sings,-
A country teawn for me!
A country teawn, where one can meet
Wi' friends an' neighbours known;
Where one can lounge i'th market-place
An' see the meadows mown.

Yon moorlan' hills are bloomin' wild
At th' endin' o' July;
Yon woodlan' cloofs, an valleys green,-
The sweetest under th' sky;
Yon dainty rindles, dancin' deawn
Fro' th' meawntains into th' plain;-
As soon as th' new moon rises, lads,
I'm off to th' moors again!

There's hearty lads among yon hills,
An' in yon country teawn;
They'n far moor sense than prouder folk,-
I'll uphold it for a creawn;
They're wick an' warm at wark an' fun,
Wherever they may go,-
The primest breed o' Iads i'th world,-
Good luck attend 'em o'!

Last neet I laft the city thrung,
An' climbed yon hillock green;
An' turned my face to th' moorlan' hills,
Wi' th' wayter i' my e'en;
Wi' th' wayter wellin i' my e'en;-
I'll bundle up, an go,
An' I'll live an' dee i' my own countrie,
Where the moorlan' breezes blow!