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
