Why’s It Called The Black Country?
John Morris
Some say the Black Country woz gid its name
By Queen Vicky one day on a visit,
‘Er gawked from ‘er train and sez, “Hey Bert,
Tay very clane up ere, is it!”
“Look at them chimbleys belchin’ out smoke,
From fac’tries covered in sooty shite.”
Though yow’d a thought ‘er’d not put it like that,
Queens am posh and usually polite.
“Ev’rything’s black,” ‘er sez, “even the sky,
It looks a right shit-ole of a plairce,
The folks am common and covered in crap,
Doe think they’ve ever ‘ad soap on their fairce.”
“Tell the train driver we doe wanna stay,”
It’s so cack here one doe wish to look,
We ay sid such a black country ‘afower.”
And it’s said, from that day, the name stuck.
With that ‘er woz off, winda blinds shut
As ‘er train chuffed off down the track,
T’was er only trip to that part of ‘er realm,
‘Er sez, “Yow woe catch we comin’ back!”
But what ‘er day twig, as ‘er ‘eaded wum,
Woz that Black Country folk never tire,
They’d slog day ‘n’ night to mek the whales turn,
To help pay for ‘er massive empire.
Them fact’ries woz the ‘eart of the nation,
Most stuff yow could buy then, woz med there,
The folks day mind bein’ covered in shite
And breathin’ the crap in the air.
But if ‘er cum back up this way today
‘Er oodn’t ‘arf get a surprise,
More than a cent’ry after ‘er med that trip
‘Er’d be shocked at the Black Country’s demise.
The chimbleys am gone, the whales turn no mower,
And the ‘eart of a nation’s stone jed,
Where fact’ries once stood mekkin’ stuff for the world,
They’ve now built shapping centres instead.
