I'm going for to give you a very strange narration,
But what I tell is really true of my own observation.
A lass there was as nice a one an'bonnie an' you'd need look,
She was a steam loom weaver and they called her Betty Reedhook
There was a chap in love wi' her, he said quite to distraction,
And wanted well to marry her, in spite of all objection,
This was an overlooker, that came her loom to fettle,
He worked at t' top o' Lackey Moor, and they called him Sammy Shuttle.
Now Betty couldn't bear this chap, though some fine things her(sic) took her,
A spark in t' warehouse won her slap, he were a sly cutlooker,
And when she took her cuts to him, they'd so much fune(sic) and prate, sir,
He always passed o'er all her faults, and never used to bate her.
When Sam yeard o' these goings on, in a passion then he flies up,
Swearing if he met that man, he'd smartly knock his eyes up,
A challenge then he sent to him, on killing him he reckoned,
And he'd take wi' him Billy Crape, and he should act as second.
T'cutlooker said he'd fight the mon, in any part o' th' town sirs,
If it must be on t' Owdham plan, a regular up and down, sirs,
So at Lackey Moor they did meet, that very same afternoon, sirs,
And he geet half a pound o' stamps, to put in his new shoon, sirs,
Sam first took a punce at him, but th' cutlooker he legged him,
Gan him some cross buttockers, and down to t' floor he pegged him,
He geet his fingers in his throat, and twisted o'er so nimbly,
That Sam at last was forced to give in, when he found he'd stopped his chimbley.
When Betty yeard that Sam had lost, on him no notice took, sirs,
But went out walking Sunday last, with that same sly cutlooker,
Sam swore he could not stand it, on them no more he'd look,
He'd blow his brains out wi' his shuttle, or stab him with his reedhook

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