A Kersmass song I’ll sing, me lads,
If yoh’ll bud hearken me;
An incident e Kersmass time,
E eighteen sixty-three:
Withaht a stypher e the world—
I’d scorn to tell a lie—
I dined wi a gentleman
O’ Gooise an’ giblet pie.

I’ve been e lots o’ feeds, me lads,
An hed some rare tuck-aahts;
Blooid-pudding days wi killing pigs,
Minch pies an’ thumping taahts;
But I wir’d in an reight anall,
An’ supp’d when I wor dry,
Fer I wor dining wi a gentleman
O’ gooise an’ giblet pie.

I hardly knew what ail’d me, lads,
I felt so fearful praad;
Me ears prick’d up, me collar raise,
Taards a hauf-a-yard;
Me chest stood aaht, me charley in,
Like horns stuck aaht me tie;
Fer I dined wi a gentleman
O’ gooise an’ giblet pie.

I offan think o’ t’feed, me lads,
When t’ gentleman I meet;
Bud nauther on us speiks a word
Abaht that glorious neet;
In fact, I hardly can mesel,
I feel so fearful shy;
Fer I ate a deal o’ t’roasted gooise,
And warmed his giblet pie.