A LANCASHIRE STORY. “T” shirt ‘n’ rhymes, And washing lines, Between brick built back to backs, Side cobbled drains, Gurgling past , Fast, Clogs ’n’ Makers, Clogs ‘n’ Makers, On their way, Supping their Scouse ‘n’ Beer, Under gloom of grey, To work their Loom, This Monday Morning Day Where Witches are a--rumour, And Cotton is King, At Masters Mill, Built from a Negro’s Pain, Here in a Lancashire Town, On which Britannia She paints, Her Monuments of Stone., An Empire to behold.