Cushie Butterfield Lyrics - Sting

I'm a broken-hearted keelman 

and I'm o'er head in love 

With a young lass from Gyetsid 

And I call 'er my dove 

Her name's Cushie Butterfield 

And she sells yellow clay 

And 'er cousins a muckman 

And they call him Tom Gray 

CHORUS 

She's a big lass 

She's a bonny lass 

And she likes her beer 

And I call her Cushie Butterfield 

And I wish she was here 

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Her eyes is like two holes 

In a blanket burnt through 

And her breath in the mornin' 

Would scare a young coo 

She wears big galoshes 

And her stockings once was white 

And her bed gown it's lilac 

And her hat's never straight 

CHORUS 

Cushie Butterfield 

Aa's a broken hairted keel man and Aa's ower heed in luv 

Wiv a young lass in Gyetsid an Aa caal hor me duv 

Hor nyem's Cushie Butterfield and she sells Yalla clay 

And her cousin is a muckman and they caall µim Tom Gray. 

Chorus- She's a big lass an' a bonnie lass an' she likes hor beer 

An they caall hor Cushie Butterfield an' aa wish she war heor 

Photos 

Her eyes are like two holes in a blanket bornt throo, 

An' her brows in a mornin wad spyen a young coo; 

An' when aw heer her shootin "will ye buy ony clay," 

Like a candy man's trumpet, it steels ma young hart away. 

Ye'll oft see hor doon at Sangit when the fresh harrin cims in, 

She's like a bagfull o'saadust tied roond wiv a string; 

She weers big galoshes tee, an' hor stockins once was white, 

An' hor bedgoon it's laelock, but hor hat's nivver strite. 

Chorus 

Whan Aa axed hor te marry us, she started te laff; 

"Noo, nyen o'yor munkey tricks, for Aa like nee such chaff" 

Then she started a' blubblin' an' roared like a bull, 

An' the cheps on the Keel ses As's nowt but a fyeul. 

Chorus 

She sez "The chep that gets me'll heh to work ivry day, 

An when he cums hyem at neets he¦ll heh te gan an' seek clay; 

An' when he's away seekin't aal myek balls an' sing' 

Weel may the keel row that my laddies in!" 

Chorus 

Noo, aw heer she hes anuther chep, an' he hews at Shipcote' 

If aw thowt she wad deceive me, ah'd sure cut me throat; 

Aal doon the river sailin, an¦sing "Aam afloat," 

Biddin addo te Cushy Butterfield an¦ the chep at Shipcote. 

Chorus