Cushie Butterfield - Sting



I'm a broken-hearted keelman

and I'm o'er head in love

With a young lass from Gyetsid

And I call 'er my dove



Her name's Cushie Butterfield

And she sells yellow clay

And 'er cousins a muckman

And they call him Tom Gray



CHORUS

She's a big lass

She's a bonny lass

And she likes her beer

And I call her Cushie Butterfield

And I wish she was here



Her eyes is like two holes

In a blanket burnt through

And her breath in the mornin'

Would scare a young coo



She wears big galoshes

And her stockings once was white

And her bed gown it's lilac

And her hat's never straight



CHORUS



Cushie Butterfield



Aa's a broken hairted keel man and Aa's ower heed in luv

Wiv a young lass in Gyetsid an Aa caal hor me duv

Hor nyem's Cushie Butterfield and she sells Yalla clay

And her cousin is a muckman and they caall ”im Tom Gray.



Chorus- She's a big lass an' a bonnie lass an' she likes hor beer

An they caall hor Cushie Butterfield an' aa wish she war heor



Her eyes are like two holes in a blanket bornt throo,

An' her brows in a mornin wad spyen a young coo;

An' when aw heer her shootin "will ye buy ony clay,"

Like a candy man's trumpet, it steels ma young hart away.



Ye'll oft see hor doon at Sangit when the fresh harrin cims in,

She's like a bagfull o'saadust tied roond wiv a string;

She weers big galoshes tee, an' hor stockins once was white,

An' hor bedgoon it's laelock, but hor hat's nivver strite.



Chorus



Whan Aa axed hor te marry us, she started te laff;

"Noo, nyen o'yor munkey tricks, for Aa like nee such chaff"

Then she started a' blubblin' an' roared like a bull,

An' the cheps on the Keel ses As's nowt but a fyeul.



Chorus



She sez "The chep that gets me'll heh to work ivry day,

An when he cums hyem at neets heŠll heh te gan an' seek clay;

An' when he's away seekin't aal myek balls an' sing'

Weel may the keel row that my laddies in !"



Chorus



Noo, aw heer she hes anuther chep, an' he hews at Shipcote'

If aw thowt she wad deceive me, ah'd sure cut me throat;

Aal doon the river sailin, anŠsing "Aam afloat,"

Biddin addo te Cushy Butterfield anŠ the chep at Shipcote.



Chorus



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