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You Birmingham lads, come listen awhile,
And I'll tell you a story that will cause you to smile,
For the railroad they're going to open next spring
Will life up from London to Birmingham bring.

When the swell mob comes down, we must look out for squalls,
Or they'll bolt with the organ from out the Town Hall;
They think themselves clever in every feat,
But we'll show 'em one more boys, we'll show 'em Broad Street

So reckon on sport when the Cockneys come down,
For they're all very flash¹ from the fop¹ to the clown¹;
Whether tinkers or tailors or omnibus cads,
We can learn them a tune called the Warwickshire Lads.

The Cockneys for boxing have long held the sway;
This railroad will help us to meet them half-way.
This much I can say without telling a crammer¹:
If they'll find the anvil, we'll find our own hammer.

They say every cock can crow on his own hill,
But they must not come here empty pockets to fill.
They may walk round our streets without trouble or pain;
They'll have to do something to walk round Hammer Lane¹

We all know that London's a place of renown,
And for my own part, I will not run her down;
But I can't help thinking it'll be a queer thing
To be fighting the Cockneys in our old Bull Ring.

So now to conclude and to finish my song,
May the railroad be finished before very long;
May London and Brummagem unite and join hands
And grow like the oak tree of our native land.

 

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