Cushy Butterfield
The Ian Campbell Folk Group, The
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Lyrics
I'm a broken-hearted keelman
An I'm o'er head in love
Wi a young lass from Gateshead
An I call her me dove.
Her name's Cushie Butterfield
An she sells yella clay
An her cousin's a muckman
An they call him Tom Gray.
She's a big lass
She's a bonny lass
An she likes her beer
An I call her Cushie Butterfield
An I wish she was here.
Her eyes is like two holes
In a blanket pulled through
An her breath in the mornin
Would scare a young coo.
And when I hear her shoutin'
Will you buy ony clay?
Like a candyman's trumpet
It steals me young heart away.
She's a big lass
She's a bonny lass
An she likes her beer
An I call her Cushie Butterfield
An I wish she was here.
Ye'll oft see her doon at Sandgate
When the fresh herring comes in
She's like a bagful o sawdust
Tied round with string
She wears big galoshes
And her stockings was once white
An her bedgown it's lilac
An her hat's nivva straight.
She's a big lass
She's a bonny lass
An she likes her beer
An I call her Cushie Butterfield
An I wish she was here.
When I axed her to marry us
She started to laugh
"Noo, Nyen o' yer monkey tricks
For Aa like nee sic chaff"
Then she started abubblin'
An roared like a bull
An the cheps on the Keel sez
Aa's nowt but a fyeul
She's a big lass
She's a bonny lass
An she likes her beer
An I call her Cushie Butterfield
An I wish she was here.
She sez "The chep that gets us
He'll heh te work ivvery day
An when he comes hyem at neet
He'll need to gan an seek clay.
An when he awa' seekin it
Aall myek baals an sing
O weel may the keel row
That my laddie's in."
She's a big lass
She's a bonny lass
An she likes her beer
An I call her Cushie Butterfield
An I wish she was here.