a land of marriage of cliff and sea,
Yorkshire is a land of the future
a land of yesterday, a land of the free.
A chimney, a watermill churning the mix
should you prove morose then Yorkshire’s a fix,
take not the word of poet or quill
your pros will be numerous your cons will be nil.
Yorkshire is a land of longing
a land of sweetness, a land of song,
Yorkshire is a land to belong in
to be a Yorkshireman can never be wrong.
The heart of England, the rose of York
the warmth of our wool, the soil of our chalk
unique in it’s cheeses, of puddings renown,
so proud to be England’s sceptre and crown.
Modern images older than time,
castles, cathedrals and cafes sublime.
Yorkshire is now, as always has been
essential to visit, decreed to be seen.
O’er hill and dale and seamless spire
a cool Yorkshire beer, a suck on a briar.
We walk in the quarry, the sun on the stone
we work in the field but we’re never alone.
As you wade the bright ford, and top the fond hill
of Yorkshire’s delights let your heart overfill.
But the essence of Yorkshire be ye old be ye young,
is the warmth of the folks, the breadth of the tongue.