Here's the song along with the dots from Tamlyn, Vol. II No. 4 (April 1976), p. 17

THE KENT
(Mike Lyddiard)

Flowing from the bonny Fells,
Where the mystery and Beauty Dwells,
The Kent and The Keer and The Lune:
Through Valleys green and hills they stray,
To the Sands of Morecambe Bay,
The Kent and The Keer and The Lune;
It's there the plover sings and the curlew builds her nest,
It's there the swallow and the heron take their rest,
Far beyond the smoke filled air,
The fairest face of Lancashire,
The Kent and The Keer and The Lune.

As the winter turns to spring,
The mighty salmon homeward swims,
To the Kent and The Keer and The Lune;
Fishermen their harvest make,
Shrimps and cockle flukes they take,
From the Kent and the Keer and the Lune;
Its here the nobbies go a trawling on the bay,
Far o'er the singing sands the cocklers they stray,
Far beyond the smoke filled air,
The fairest face of Lancashire,
The Kent and The Keer and The Lune.

Smugglers, soldiers men of God
Tradesmen o'er these ways have trod,
By the Kent and The Keer and The Lune;
Betwict the ebb tide and the flow,
Such men about their business go,
By the Kent and The Keer and The Lune;
From Ulverston and Cartmel too across the shining sands,
The Carters mark the way that bring them safe to land,
Far beyond the smoke filled air,
The fairest face of Lancashire,
The Kent and The Keer and The Lune.

As the sun sets o'er the Bay,
It tells the end of another day,
On the Kent and The Keer and The Lune;
The sea pie settles in her nest,
The weary traveller takes his rest,
By the Kent and The Keer and The Lune;
And while good honest folk lie sleeping to the dawn,
Those tumbling waters they flow on and on and on,
Far beyond the smoked filled air,
The fairest face of Lancashire,
The Kent and The Keer and The Lune.