Young Albert
There worra a young lad called Albert,
He were allus up t' no good,
He'd stand ont corner by t'lamp post,
sparkin' 'is clogs like mad,
'til day he were caught by 'is Dad.
Dad said to him, now stop it,
Tha's wearin' out tips my lad,
an I'll 'ave t' up n fix 'em
wi me hammer n me last,
Then 'e gave Albert a clip round earhole,
wi' edge o' his cloth cap as he passed.
Albert thought sparkin' were painful,
holdin' 'is ear, n sheddin' a tear
So he buggered off in t' next street,
mekkin sure is Dad weren't near.
In Lancashire dialect
© Dave Timperley 18 July 2017.
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