Sing a song of Yorkshire, from the Humber to the Tees Of cricket, rugby, beer, of pudding and of cheese I know no other county where the land is quite so fine England's lovely county. And I'm proud to call it mine
Where shining purple heather stretches far across the moor And the lapwing's cry above me takes the place of traffic roar And peace comes drifting gently, there's no place I'd rather be Than this land of hills and valleys, from the Pennines to the sea
So when I've done my roaming, and when my step grows slow When heart and mind assure me that the time has come to go Then let me rest in Yorkshire, for its there I want to lie 'Neath sun and wind and heather... and a gleaming Yorkshire sky
