You may boast about your cities, you may think them very fine

but the joy you feel about them can never equal mine.

Give me Durham’s hills and valleys, her woodlands and her streams

and my heart will know contentment, I’ll keep my pleasant dreams.

You may boast of flowery language, you may boast of perfect speech

but I’d rather have the language that the Durham tongues can teach.

There’s music in their welcome, there’s a friendly honest ring

as they greet you with "what fettle", what a comfort it can bring

Let me know the life long pleasures, that a Durham man can know,

as he wanders o’er the hill tops to the valleys down below.

Through Greencroft onto Leadgate, from Consett to Blackhill,

then on to lovely Shotley once famous for its mill.

There’s Stanley and there’s Dipton, Lintz Green and Burnopfield,

where woodland pictures greet you and beauty is revealed.

While in the humble cottages there’s hearts so wondrous kind

and ‘neath the Durham language there’s oft’ a cultured mind.