Aa's a broken hairted keel man and Aa's ower heed in luv
Wiv a young lass in Gyetsid an Aa caal hor me duv
Hor nyem's Cushie Butterfield and she sells Yalla clay
And her cousin is a muckman and they caall µim Tom Gray.

Chorus- She's a big lass an' a bonnie lass an' she likes hor beer
An they caall hor Cushie Butterfield an' aa wish she war heor

Her eyes are like two holes in a blanket bornt throo,
An' her brows in a mornin wad spyen a young coo;
An' when aw heer her shootin "will ye buy ony clay,"
Like a candy man's trumpet, it steels ma young hart away.

Ye'll oft see hor doon at Sangit when the fresh harrin cims in,
She's like a bagfull o'saadust tied roond wiv a string;
She weers big galoshes tee, an' hor stockins once was white,
An' hor bedgoon it's laelock, but hor hat's nivver strite.

Chorus

Whan Aa axed hor te marry us, she started te laff;
"Noo, nyen o'yor munkey tricks, for Aa like nee such chaff"
Then she started a' blubblin' an' roared like a bull,
An' the cheps on the Keel ses As's nowt but a fyeul.

Chorus

She sez "The chep that gets me'll heh to work ivry day,
An when he cums hyem at neets he¦ll heh te gan an' seek clay;
An' when he's away seekin't aal myek balls an' sing'
Weel may the keel row that my laddies in !"

Chorus

Noo, aw heer she hes anuther chep, an' he hews at Shipcote'
If aw thowt she wad deceive me, ah'd sure cut me throat;
Aal doon the river sailin, an¦sing "Aam afloat,"
Biddin addo te Cushy Butterfield an¦ the chep at Shipcote.



Lyrics submitted by sillybunny

Cushie Butterfield song meanings
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  • 0
    General CommentGeordie is not a regional accent. It is a language that owes a lot to Scandinavian tongues, for the Geordies and the Vikings had much in common. They both liked to chat up each others women folk and burn down monasteries. In fact the Vikings made monastery burning a national sport for the time.

    A translation ...
    I'm a broken-hearted keelman
    and I'm over head in love
    With a young lass from Gyetsid
    And I call her my dove

    Her name's Cushie Butterfield
    And she sells yellow clay
    And her cousin’s a muckman
    And they call him Tom Gray

    Chorus
    She's a big lass
    She's a bonny lass
    And she likes her beer
    And I call her Cushie Butterfield
    And I wish she was here

    Her eyes is like two holes
    In a blanket burnt through
    And her breath in the morning
    Would scare a young coo
    And when I hear her shouting
    Will you buy any clay
    Like a candyman’s trumpet
    She steals my heart away

    [CANDYMAN. A bum bailiff. The man who serves notice of ejectment. The word is almost always used as a term of abuse or contempt. The reason for this is the way these men were regularly used during mining strikes. Pitmen lived in "tied" houses and if they went on strike the coal owners usually evicted them. To do so many bailiffs were needed. They were recruited from the scum of the towns and many street vendors were among those so employed. Some of the street traders sold sticks of candy, their street cry being Dandy-candy, three sticks a penny. So all bum bailiffs were contemptuously described as candymen.]


    You’ll often see her down at Sangit
    When the fresh herring comes in
    She’s like a bag full of sawdust
    Tied round with a string
    She wears big galoshes too
    And her stockings once was white
    And her bed gown it's lilac
    But her hat's never straight
    Chorus
    When I asked her to marry us
    She started to laugh
    No, none of your monkey tricks
    For I like no such chaff
    Then she started a’blubbering
    And roared like a bull
    And the chaps on the keel
    Says I’m nothing but a fool
    Chorus
    She says “the chap that gets me here to work every day.
    And when he comes home at night
    He’ll here to go and seek clay
    And when he’s away seeking all my balls and things
    Well may the keel row that my laddie’s in
    Chorus
    Now I hear she has another chap
    And he hails at Shipcote
    If I thought she would deceive me
    I’d sure cut my throat
    All down the river sailing, and singing “I’m afloat”
    Bidding adieu to Cushy Butterfield and the chap at Shipcote.

    This is from For Our Children, an album recorded to benefit the Pediatric AIDS Foundation, released in 1998
    sillybunnyon July 18, 2006   Link
  • 0
    General CommentCushie Butterfield is another of Tyneside's great folk songs. Some might think of an old TV ad for Newcastle Brown Ale when they hear this song.

    The Newcastle Brown Ale version

    If yee like a beer that's porfection indeed,
    I'll bring yee a toast, to fulfill yer need.
    At hyem by yer fireside, in club or in bar,
    The sign of good taste is the famous Blue Star.

    It's a strong beer, it's a bottled beer, with the North's biggest sale, for complete satisfaction, Newcastle Brown Ale.

    (Then in a very deep voice, repeat...)

    Noooooooocastle Brown Ale.
    sillybunnyon September 01, 2006   Link

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