On a Friday, it fell in the month of Avril
O'er the hill came the morn with the blithe sunny smile
And the folks were a-thronging the roads everywhere
Making haste to be in at Copshawholme Fair

I've seen 'em a-coming in from the mountains and glen
Both rosy faced lasses and strapping young men
With a joy in their heart and unburdened o' care
A-meeting old friends at Copshawholme Fair

There's lads for the lasses, there's toys for the bairns
Therе's jugglers and tumblers and folks with no arms
Therе's a ballad singer here and a fiddler there
There are nut men and spice men at Copshawholme Fair

There are peddlers and there're potters and gingerbread stands
There are peepshows and puff and darts and the green caravans
There's fruit from all nations exhibited there
With kale plants from Hawick at Copshawholme Fair

And now about the hiring if you want to hear tell
You should ken it as afar as I've seen it myself
What wages they addle, it's ill to declare
The muckle they vary at Copshawholme Fair

Just the gal I have seen, she's a strapping young queen
He asked what her age was and where she had been
What work she'd been doing, how long she'd been there
What wages she wanted at Copshawholme Fair
Just then the pit lass stood a wee while in gloom
And she blushed and she scraped with her feet on the ground
Then she plucked up her heart and did stoutly declare
"I'll have five pound and ten at Copshawholme Fair"

Says he "But m'lass, that's a very big wage"
Then he, turning about like he'd been in a rage
Says "I'll give ye five pounds but I'll give ye nae mair
And I think you maun take it at Copshawholme Fair"

He took out a shilling for to hold the pit wench
In case it might enter her head for to flinch
But she grabbed at it, muttering "I should o' had mair
But I think I will take it at Copshawholme Fair"

Now the hirin's o'er and off they all sprang
In to the ballroom for to join in the throng
And "I Never Will Lie With My Mammy Nae Mair"
The fiddles play briskly at Copshawholme Fair

Now this is the fashion, they thus pass the day
Till the night coming on, they all hurry away
And some are so sick that they'll never go more
With the fighting and dancing at Copshawholme Fair