Bea Leaver-Gentle, lady-bag,
She worked a roadsite
In the daytime;
Stood a curbside,
Pooling pennies like a child,
Singing pitch-songs like a drinker,
Bringing living from the brokers,
From the breakers, mindless throng,
From the teeming, daily thing...
And she did it with a song,
She sang, "O Sunderland,
Y' great and greenful thing..."
O Sun'erland! Ya Won'erland!
Ya green an' tree-ful sea!
I can see ya, comin' out
O' what's been hidin' in the gray-street.
I can see ya,
From the portholes o' these day-bads,
In the potholes o' these streets;
I can feel ya,
In the thistles o' these things,
Creepin' green into the scene.
Ya blinkin' in the dog-pies...O, the daisies!
Will ya, Sun'erland?
I need ya
When it sweeps me like a whippin' wind,
In a wheelin' rain along my way,
A windsheet in the pourin' day...
I need ya
An' yer patient green, yer standin' grove,
Appearin' near my blanket, in the blackness--
Like a myst'ry, when I cannot see, protectin' me--
Ya lead me, n' ya take me home,
Ya sweet an' savin', Sun'erland!