Naar then!  Sithee! Dunt be messin abaart wi nonna that theear forrin muck.  Get thissen ta Scarbra forraz gudda fotnit as ivver thallev.

 

Whoa! We’re going to Scarbados

Whoa! Those cloudy Yorkshire skies

99’s at Jaconelli’s

Whoa! It’s peas and Pukka Pies.

 

Whoa! We’re going to Scarbados

Off to play on them slot machines

Show! them ponces in Ibiza

What a Yorkshire Good Time means.

 

Chuckle Brothers playing at the Spa

Eight pints of lager I drank at the bar

Tail-gated down the Malton by-pass

Fuck the law, A64.

 

Whoa! We’re going to Scarbados

Coliiers nobs and Yorkshire Curd

Balls to Blackpool fucking Tower

Whoa! Owd up! There’s Dickie Bird.

 

Who’s on soon?  Not that twat Jimmy Carr

More time for lagers in the bar

Argued with some blokes from Derby

In these brawls I kicked one’s balls

 

Whoa! We’re going to Scarbados

Throw away your used chip wrappers

Finger pie with two old slappers

I feel sick (bleugh) now kiss me quick.