I'm tellin thi - suthern'ills ar nowt compared to owwers
Scotland's foak are nowe neer as tite, or fair
Lancaster az but weaker trees and moare gawmless flowwers
And o' watter from Thames or Tyne, i cannot care

 

Tek noattice - us Yorkshire foak ar blest wi natures gold
We wer craaned as kings n queens from ar verry burth
Nivver fear nor dahht it, tho wethers wet an coald
A better cahnty cannot be fahnd on earth

 

There's summat abaht the air that's nobbut fine
We've spogs and spice and chuddy t' keep us sweet
We graft n laik.  Even gossip, faff and whine
But, a finer clan o foak, you will not meet

 

Ennywere I go, I can allus luk an' say
That ah grand 'ills, n trees, n flowers ar devine
I'm chuffed that this is where I mek me way;-
Yorkshire's God's Cahnty, an' I'm praad to call it mine