A rare piece of true Northumbriana:

I hear old Corby lies in his sleep; grave digging was his occupation
Or ringing the bell, the church to keep; or dusting the pews upon occasion

Aye lame of arm with but one leg; some charity Jack was deserving
But he was too bashful to gan oot an beg; and he'd rather prefer half starving

And his speech and manners, oh they were uncouth; but firm and staunch upon occasion
And he always bluntly told the truth; withoot the smallest deviation

But to hunt the fox was his delight; to get sly Reynard in his clutches
He stopped the fox holes up by night; and by day, he hunted on his crutches

Whenever the fox was in full view; no footman with Jack could keep stitches
As Jack away on his crutches flew; louping nimbly ower hedges and ditches

but now his hunting days are done; we hope he'll not be forgotten
it's hoped he will meet up at last; with the honest sportsmen in heaven

(Jack Corby was a sexton at Bedlington in Northumberland who lost a leg in his youth; the anonymous verses were published in The Blyth Gleaner on the occasion of his death in 1819)