John North

Oh, my name is John North, I'm south of the forth. In the Land of Three Rivers I dwell. In the steelworks and pits, I've worked with my mates. Not a bad word again them I'll tell. They're the best bunch of lads and I'll tell you for why. If it thought they would help you, they'd jump in the Tyne. In the Land of Three Rivers, I'm longing to be. Where the Tyne, Wear and Tees, meet the North Rolling Sea. From Carlyle, from Dover, from Bristol to Hull. And every town in between. I'm known in them all by my accent and gall. And friendship to pauper and queen. I got lots of friends aye but still not enough. I'm a means to their end when the going gets rough. In the Land of Three Rivers, I'm longing to be. Where the Tyne, Wear and Tees, meet the North Rolling Sea. In centuries gone, our ancestral homes. Were pray to the Romans and Dames. But Hadrian knew and Odin did too. That the Northeast was no place for games. They tried to enslave us but all efforts failed. While the strength of St. Aiden and Hilda prevailed. In the Land of Three Rivers, I'm longing to be. Where the Tyne, Wear and Tees, meet the North Rolling Sea. I work hard and play hard as hard as I toil. And I drink the best ale in the land. Our roots nestle deep in Northumbrian soil. The branches akin in fresh hands. When loneliness takes you and dampens your song. If you meet up with John North, you'll not go far wrong. In the Land of Three Rivers, I'm longing to be. Where the Tyne, Wear and Tees, meet the North Rolling Sea. In the Land of Three Rivers, I'm longing to be. Where the Tyne, Wear and Tees, meet the North Rolling Sea.