Yn whistling bristling breezy
Tha breeze it whistles through tha neet
I canne standle on me feet
Eet blow a bloody fearsome voice
und wriggles through in bristly noice
A quivering cap’tain of much renown
were bastin a puddin as his ship went down
he sang with his rum abound his chest
and chortled at the weend as he sank to his deeth
When ya hear of a breezy that’s a blowin in ta Port
Spare a thought for tha cap’tain, of the rum he would snort
Tha weend eet sailed in and snatched im awee
But ya can still hear his chortles ta this very cald dee!
By tha Neek Saundersh 17th October 2011
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