Song parody of
Sheffield in a Trench (feat. Pete Smith (Vocals, Acoustic Guitar), Tom Wright [Electric Guitar])
by Pete Smith
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What would I like to see" No fear
Not London - no nor Windermere
Nor Paris with its skies so clear
Give me a look at Sheffield
I have it in my mental eye
Its valleys and its uplands high
Its smoke-cloud flung against the sky
The smoke that blackens Sheffield
Its five small rills that slowly steal
Past rolling mill and grinding wheel
Their very names can make me feel
That I belong to Sheffield
O' Loxley, Rivelin, Porter Sheaf
Flow onward to the Don your chief
And ripple out your message brief
Men must be free in Sheffield
I know each street and winding lane
Oh yes, they're black! Oh yes, they're plain
But let me tread them once again
And heaven will shine in Sheffield
And I can hear, as luck may hap
The knickerpecker's "tap, tap, tap
The grindstone's hiss, the tilts "rap, rap
As if I was in Sheffield
O' Loxley, Rivelin, Porter Sheaf
Flow onward to the Don your chief
And ripple out your message brief
Men must be free in Sheffield
Aye, and that blunt old Sheffield speech
As none else to my soul can reach
It knows not how to beg, beseech
The tongue that's spoke in Sheffield
But here we are! - "What for?" You Say
To teach the Boche the time of day
And keep him far enough away
From setting foot in Sheffield
O' Loxley, Rivelin, Porter Sheaf
Flow onward to the Don your chief
And ripple out your message brief
Men must be free in Sheffield
What would I like to see" No fear
Not London - no nor Windermere
Nor Paris with its skies so clear
Give me a look at Sheffield
I have it in my mental eye
Its valleys and its uplands high
Its smoke-cloud flung against the sky
The smoke that blackens Sheffield
Its five small rills that slowly steal
Past rolling mill and grinding wheel
Their very names can make me feel
That I belong to Sheffield
O' Loxley, Rivelin, Porter Sheaf
Flow onward to the Don your chief
And ripple out your message brief
Men must be free in Sheffield
I know each street and winding lane
Oh yes, they're black! Oh yes, they're plain
But let me tread them once again
And heaven will shine in Sheffield
And I can hear, as luck may hap
The knickerpecker's "tap, tap, tap
The grindstone's hiss, the tilts "rap, rap
As if I was in Sheffield
O' Loxley, Rivelin, Porter Sheaf
Flow onward to the Don your chief
And ripple out your message brief
Men must be free in Sheffield
Aye, and that blunt old Sheffield speech
As none else to my soul can reach
It knows not how to beg, beseech
The tongue that's spoke in Sheffield
But here we are! - "What for?" You Say
To teach the Boche the time of day
And keep him far enough away
From setting foot in Sheffield
O' Loxley, Rivelin, Porter Sheaf
Flow onward to the Don your chief
And ripple out your message brief
Men must be free in Sheffield
