I have always been uneasy about McColls "Manchester Rambler" specifically this verse-
I once loved a maid, a spot welder by trade
She was fair as the Rowan in bloom
And the bloom of her eye watched the blue Moreland sky
I wooed her from April to June
On the day that we should have been married
I went for a ramble instead
For sooner than part from the mountains
I think I would rather be dead

I always Thought what a selfish callous bastard to jilt a girl that he waxes so poetical like that about, just to go walking.