Through Yorkshire Fog and Timothy
Through Yorkshire Fog and Timothy
Intolerant of race a creed
I tread the sods with heavy feet
I'm sodden from the dew.
A spear I raise to fiend and foe
From where I came I'll always know
My mothers breast my fathers hand
Brought me up to be a man
I'm sodden from the dew.
I ponder rose and honeys**le
Clench my fist and bite my knuckle
I crouch in anticipation
Fight for my mother's nation
I'm sodden from the dew.