This poem, attributed to Gordon Nicholl, describes the demise of Bulgill Colliery in about 1910.

West Cumbrian Version

Bulgill’s buggert marra
Wukken out cum’s fast
If thou gits t’backshift in
That cud be thee last

T’Powney’s gone till Riser
T’Ingins gone till t’seals
Thompson’s up afoort t’boss
Fer pinchun six inch neals

Tyson’s gone till Buthy
Cass till Outerside
Uncle Joe’s at Number Fower
An Tom’s at Number Five

Bulgill’s buggert marra
Just a wa’ o stean
Divent ga ’till Buthy
Thoo’s better off at yam.

Ere we ga up t’clog trod
In till t’Railway Pub
Get thee wissel wet me lad
See-un thou’ll be on’t club.


Bulgill’s buggered friend,
Working-out comes fast,
If you get the backshift in,
That could be your last

The pony’s gone to Risehow
The Engine’s gone to the sales
Tompson’s up before the boss
For stealing six inch nails

Tyson’s gone to Bothel
Cass to Oughterside
Uncle Joe’s at Number four
And Tom’s at Number Five

Bulgill’s buggered friend
Just a wall of stone
Don’t go to Bothel
You’re better off at home

Here we go up the path
Into the Railway Pub
Get your whistle wet my lad
Seeing as you’ll be on the club

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