That Factory Lass
Tune: Erin go Bragh

Oh, Jack, what's the metter? ye luck se doon-heated,
Wativor's yor trubbil? aw hope ye'll tell me,
It pains us te see a yung chep sad as ye.
Whey, Joe, man, aw'm nearly heart broken, believe us,
Aw can find ne injoyment i' me pipe or me glass,
Me luv for me mary's byeth strange an'unsartin,
Aw heh ne peace o' mind throo that Factory Lass!

She works i' the fact'ry amang lots o' lasses,
But nyen o' the beauties that's there can compare
Wi' the lass that aw's efter,--she's smart an' she's bonny,
Wi' blue eyes, a Wellinton noes, an' red hair;
Her mooh wad tempt ony te wish they dor kiss them,
Her lucks a' tegither a Queen wad surpass,
But, oh man, aw's frighten'd she cares nowt aboot us,
Ay, an' me deep i' luv wi' that Factory Lass!

Aw left her one mornin te join the Militia,
An' sairly she cried an' aw  hoped 'twes for me,
But noo man, aw doot it, --aw'm not often jealous,
But really aw've seen what aw'd rether not see.
She wes leet-myend an' canny the mornin aw left her,
But noo she's se stoot, that the neybors a' pass
Remarks,--when aw hear the maw shudder an' fear that
She's been false te me hes that Factory Lass!

Aw sumtimes imadjin aw shud marry sweet Mary,
But if aw propose man, aw've ne courage wid,
For aw've thowt te me-sel that thor might be sumbody,
Had mair reet te her, ay, an' mair reet te did.
So aw feel se unhappy, the whole toon aw wander,
But whativor shud happen, whativor shud pass,
Aw promise te tell ye the next time aw meet ye,
Aw'm as daft as a feul throo that Factory Lass!
 

-Source: Joe Wilson, Tyneside Songs and Drolleries