I’m a sort of sportin bloke

An I’ll play most any gairme,

I’ll ave a goo at anything

Ter me, it’s all the sairme.

I doh think that it matters

If yoe win, lose or draw,

I think that how yer play the gairme

Is mooer important than the score.

But mar mate Ronnie doh agree

It’s everythin’ to ‘im

I’ve even copped ‘im chatin

To allow hisself ter win.

The other day wile playin golf

His ball went in the ruff,

We cudn’t find it anywhere

Heaven knows, we searched enuff.

An hour went by an still no luck

We cudn’t find that ball,

I woz just abaht ter pack it in

An then I ‘eard Ron call.

"Hey Alf, yoe wo believe it

Ain’t I a jammy soul,

I’ve fahnd the ball, it’s over ‘ere

Just three foot from the ‘ole".

I knowed that ‘e wuz lyin

Even tho he’s mar best mate,

He drapped it wen me back woz turned

The dirty little chate

I day see ‘im do it

He woz faster than a rocket

But there woz no way that cud be ‘is ball

Coz I’d gorrit in me pocket