A Yorksher Bite.

A poem by John Hartley

Bless all them bonny lasses,
I' Yorksher born an bred!
Ther beauty nooan surpasses,
Complete i'th' heart an th' heead.
An th' lads, - tho aw've seen monny lands,
Ther equal aw ne'er met;
For honest hearts an willin hands,
They nivver can be bet.
Aw nivver hold mi heead soa heigh,
Or feel sich true delight,
As when fowk point me aght an say,
"Thear gooas a Yorksher Bite."

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