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 Long time ago in the land of the big sky

  Men would work the land till the day that they die.

  On our island rising out of the fen

   Billinger roughs would fight ‘till the end.

 

Chorus

 

   And we all drink our ale in the pub wi’ our ‘mayats

  Then end the night wi’ a playat filled wi' tayats

  We'll all raise a glass to a life that is tough

  Cheers! to ya mayats,  yer a Billinger Ruff!

 

 

  As fortune would have it, the rain it did pour

  The fowl they flew in, we were straight out the door

  I picked up old Bessie, and sat there in wait

  Had twenty two brace that I hung on me gate.

 

   If  people poach our fowl , they are looking for a fight

 We’ll chase em, we’ll ‘ave ‘em, down by the old car dyke

 With pikes and forks, back they all are driven

 Past labour in vain they flee back o’er the Witham

 

 

 Now Amos and me we are sons of the earth

 We sweat on the land and bath in the skirth

 If we say it!  Hey!!! we'll do it!

 In Digby we're feared

 We're not ones for small talk

 We call a spade a speeard

 

 The feast it is coming, the chine’s on the stove

 From Anwick and Kyme they stream down the drove

 If they try for our girls, they'll meet with their fate

 We don't care for outsiders, this is Billinger ma’et !!!

The Billinger Ruff Brommell, Pout and Broughton

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