We’re Northerners, us

We’re Northerners, us

Yeah, we’re practical and 'ard

We gurn through misfortune

As it’s torpedoed through our hearts

Slam us, flatten us, trample us – we’ll come up for more

Even though we’re drowning – oh yeah, oxygen’s a bore!

We’re Northerners, us

Scots, Geordies, Tykes and Mancs

Scousers, Cumbrians, Borderers, proud our postcode’s reading Lancs

Freezing cold can’t kill us

Your indifference, we ignore

Salt of the earth – spice of the hills – currying favour is our fore.

But when the wooden boards are mounted on another High Street shop

When the chicken processing factory grinds to a hopeless stop

When a man in Bangalore offers better insurance advice

When a 10-year-old in Bangladesh is cheaper at half the price

You’ll find the blood still beats around our arteries at the same rate

You’ll find that anti-depressants condemn us to the same fate

Stoic frozen cheeriness can only go so far

When supermarket multibuys trounce the nearest bar

But we’re Northerners us,

Hey! You’ll never knock us down!

We’ll worship at the shrine of the penalty area clowns

We’ll sell our family fortunes for a sandwich filled with prawns

For a glimpse of a dimwit mercenary moron who just moans

About the thickness of the tyre tread upon his four-wheel-drive

While the people who chant his name in worship struggle to survive

So while you tell us to adjust our lives

And our limits to imbibe

Or hide away our pleasures with a patronising smile

Twenty-eight units, nicotine, salt intake, BMI

Did you ever think that some of us want some pleasure before we die