Folk & Traditional Song Lyrics www.traditionalmusic.co.uk The Lambton Worm 
The Lambton Worm 
One Sunday morn young Lambton went A-fishing' in the Wear; An' catched a fish upon he's heuk, He thowt leuk't varry queer. But whatt'n a kind of fish it was Young Lambton cuddent tell. He waddn't fash te carry'd hyem, So he hoyed it doon a well. 
cho: Whisht! Lads, haad yor gobs, An Aa'll tell ye's aall an aaful story Whisht! Lads, haad yor gobs, An' Aa'll tell ye 'boot the worm. 
Noo Lambton felt inclined te gan An' fight i' foreign wars. he joined a troop o' Knights that cared For nowther woonds nor scars, An' off he went te Palestine Where queer things him befel, An' varry seun forgat aboot The queer worm i' the well. 
But the worm got fat an' growed and' growed An' growed an aaful size; He'd greet big teeth, a greet big gob, An' greet big goggle eyes. An' when at neets he craaled aboot Te pick up bits o' news, If he felt dry upon the road, He milked a dozen coos. 
This feorful worm wad often feed On caalves an' lambs an' sheep, An' swally little barins alive When they laid doon te sleep. An' when he'd eaten aall he cud An' he had had he's fill, He craaled away an' lapped he's tail Seven times roond Pensher Hill. 
The news of this myest aaful worm 
An' his queer gannins on Seun crossed the seas, gat te the ears Ov brave and' bowld Sor John. So hyem he cam an' catched the beast An' cut 'im in twe haalves, An' that seun stopped he's eatin' bairns, An' sheep an' lambs and caalves. 
So noo ye knaa hoo aall the foaks On byeth sides ov the Wear Lost lots o' sheep an' lots o' sleep An' leeved i' mortal feor. So let's hev one te brave Sor John That kept the bairns frae harm, Saved coos an' caalves by myekin' haalves O' the famis Lambton Worm.
 Final Chorus 
Noo lads, Aa'll haad me gob, That's aall Aa knaa aboot the story Ov Sor John's clivvor job Wi' the aaful Lambton Worm. 
note: My young son at six (2 years ago) used to love to sing this song as learned in his primary school (Allendale, Northumberland). Apparently, though this may be an apochryphal interpretation, the song refers to taxation, a tax that Lord Lambton first invented, then dramatically reduced because of the economic hardship it was causing. The sting in the tail of this story, however, is that the Lambton Memorial, seen from all around Sunderland, was supposedly erected by subscription from grateful tax-payers -- when Lord Lambton realised that there was money available for this sort of subscription, he raised the taxes again, and so the memorial was never completed. LW 
LW apr96