One Sunday morn young Lambton went
Afishing’ in the Wear;
An’ catched a fish upon he’s heuk,
He thowt leuk’t varry queer.
But whatt’n a kind of fish it was
Young Lambton cuddent tell.
He waddn’t fash te carry’d hyem,
So he hoyed it doon a well.
Whisht! Lads, haad yor gobs,
An Aa’ll tell ye’s aall an aaful story
Whisht! Lads, haad yor gobs,
An’ Aa’ll tell ye ‘boot the wohrm.
Noo Lambton felt inclined te gan
An’ fight i’ foreign wars.
he joined a troop o’ Knights that cared
For nowther woonds nor scars,
An’ off he went te Palestine
Where queer things him befel,
An’ varry seun forgat aboot
The queer wohrm i’ the well. Ref\u2026
But the wohrm got fat an’ growed and’ growed
An’ growed an aaful size;
He’d greet big teeth, a greet big gob,
An’ greet big google eyes.
An’ when at neets he craaled aboot
Te pick up bits o’ news,
If he felt dry upon the road,
He milked a dozen coos. Ref\u2026
This feorful wohrm wad often feed
On caalves an’ lambs an’ sheep,
An’ swally little bairns alive
When they laid doon te sleep.
An’ when he’d eaten aall he cud
An’ he had had he’s fill,
He craaled away an’ lapped he’s tail
Seven times roond Pensher Hill. Ref\u2026
The news of this myest aaful wohrm
An’ his queer gannins on
Seun crossed the seas, gat te the ears
Ov brave and’ bowld Sor John.
So hyem he cam an’ catched the beast
An’ cut ‘im in twe haalves,
An’ that seun stopped he’s eatin’ bairns,
An’ sheep an’ lambs and caalves. Ref\u2026
So noo ye knaa hoo aall the foaks
On byeth sides ov the Wear
Lost lots o’ sheep an’ lots o’ sleep
An’ leeved i’ mortal feor.
So let’s hev one te brave Sor John
That kept the bairns frae harm,
Saved coos an’ caalves by myekin’ haalves
O’ the famis Lambton Wohrm.
Noo lads, Aa’ll haad me gob,
That’s aall Aa knaa aboot the story
Ov Sor John’s clivvor job
Wi’ the aaful Lambton Wohrm.<\/td> | One Sunday morn young Lambton went
Fishing in the Wear;
And caught a fish upon his hook,
He thought looked very queer.
But what kind of fish it was
Young Lambton could not tell.
He was not keen to carry it home,
So he hoyed it down a well.
Shush! Lads, hold your tongues,
And I’ll tell you all an awful story
Shush! Lads, hold your tongues,
And I’ll tell you about the worm.
Now Lambton felt inclined to go
And fight in foreign wars.
He joined a troop of Knights that cared
For neither wounds nor scars,
And off he went to Palestine
Where queer things him befell,
And very soon forgot about
The queer worm in the well. Ref.
But the worm grew fat and grew and grew
And grew to an awful size;
He’d great big teeth, a greet big mouth,
And great big googly eyes.
And when at night he crawled about
To pick up bits of news,
If he felt dry upon the road,
He milked a dozen cows. Ref.
This fearful worm would often feed
On calves and lambs and sheep,
And swallow little bairns alive
When they laid down to sleep.
And when he’d eaten all he could
And he had had his fill,
He crawled away and wrapped his tail
Seven times round Penshaw Hill. Ref.
The news of this most awful worm
And his queer goings on
Soon crossed the seas and to the ears
Of brave and bold Sir John.
So home he came and caught the beast
And cut him in two halves,
And that soon stopped him eating bairns,
And sheep and lambs and calves. Ref.
So now you know how all the folks
On both sides of the Wear
Lost lots of sheep and lots of sleep
And lived in mortal fear.
So let’s have a drink to brave Sir John
That kept the bairns from harm,
Saved cows and calves by making halves
Of the famous Lambton Worm.
Now lads, I’ll hold my tongue,
That’s all I know about the story
Of Sir John’s clever\/cleaver* job
On the awful Lambton Worm.<\/td><\/tr><\/tbody><\/table><\/figure>\n\n\n\n |