'Av allers live i'Bury,

A place o' gradely folk,

Most are canny wi' their brass,

Un wastage is no joke.

Mi wife she found a friendly job,

At a place they call Claremont,

Enough cash te keep 'em open,

Is o' they ever want.

Gran settled down at Croich Hey,

Then 'er wer sent te Killelea,

Where next they're goin' te send 'er,

We'll just 'ave te wait un see.

Mi son e goes te Whittle Pike,

Staff there are the top,

But cos o' lack o' money,

It'll likely get the chop.

Mi niece lives down at Parkside,

She's happy un content,

When't powers say "no more cash",

Who knows where she'll be sent.

They'r a kindly lot i' Bury,

An most folk seem te care, but

"culture" must take precedence,

Can this be really fair?

They're causing so much stress,

Don't know which way te turn,

But a can allers go to Rammy,

An sit an watch yon urn!

ANON

Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.