I'm A London Lass In Yorkshire

My apologies go to Sting, for butchering his lyrics.

A London Lass In Yorkshire.

I can't drink coffee, must be Yorkshire tea my dear

have my breadcake on the side

And you can hear it in my accent when I talk

I'm a London lass in Yorkshire

See me walking down Victoria Quarter

Handbag clutched tightly to my side

I take it everywhere I walk

I'm a London lass in Yorkshire

I'm an alien I'm a legal alien

I'm a London lass in Yorkshire

I'm an alien I'm a legal alien

I'm a London lass in Yorkshire

If, "Manners make t'man" as someone said

Then he's t' hero of the day

It takes a man to call a man “love” and then smile

Be yer’sen no matter what they say

I'm an alien I'm a legal alien

I'm a London lass in Yorkshire

I'm an alien I'm a legal alien

I'm a London lass in Yorkshire

Modesty, propriety, are not a Yorkshire rarity

In London you can be the only one

Gentleness, sobriety, are rare in London's entirety

In Yorkshire at night, you can walk and never run

Takes more than an accent just to make a man

No-one in Yorkshire calls you hun

Confront a Londoner they will avoid you when you can

A Yorkshire man will talk but never make fun

If, "Manners make t'man" as someone said

Then he's t' hero of the day

It takes a man to call a man “love” and then smile

Be yer'sen no matter what they say

I'm an alien I'm a legal alien

I'm a London lass in Yorkshire

I'm an alien I'm a legal alien

I'm a London lass in Yorkshire