  A Song much sung some Years ago, by the Pitmen about Long Benton. Fra Benton Bank, to Benton town, There’s not a Pitman’s raw: So when ye get to the Moor Yate, Play footy again the wa’. Then hie footy, and how footy, And footy again the wa’; And when ye get to the Moor Yate, Play footy again the wa’. The wife went down the Moor Lonnin, And let her basket fa’; For when she gat to the Moor Yate, Play’d footy again the wa’. Then hie, &c. The stoby road’s a stoby place, And some o’ the stobs are la’; But still there’s some that’s high enough, For footy again the wa’. Then hie, &c. The Holy Stone’s a holy place, The trees are thick and la’; But they are nought to the Moor Yate, For footy again the wa’. Then hie, &c. Wapping Square is a bonny place, The houses are but sma’: But in them yet there’s room enough, For footy again the wa’. Then hie, &c. The lady did not like the house, For the air it was raw; It was sweeter far at the Moor Yate, For footy again the wa’. Then hie, &c. Young Cuddy is a bonny lad, And Robin’s tall and sma’; But if you come to wour town end, They’ll footy again the wa’. Then hie, &c. A pile of discarded armour and weapons
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