Talking Swansea Like

None of us talk tidy like
And ev’rythin’ good is lush,
We can’t pr’nounce acc’rat
And when we speaks we rush.

F’rages we yap to mush and bwt
An’ ‘ate anyone who thinks ‘e’s shit’ot
And when we angry we tamping like,
‘specially when it’s all gone t’pot.

We don’t mind no double negatives,
Or contradicting half ways in the end:
“Whose coat’s tha’ jacket, whose shoe’s them boots?”
and saying “you’re furit my friend”.

We learns each other ‘ow to do rugby
And shout like viragoes all match,
We shoo-er do loves them int’nationals
Singing with ‘ope at each catch.

When youer quiet you shuts your face,
And anything ‘spensive knocks you back,
If ‘e’s good looking ‘e’s stonkin
And lava bread ‘n’ cockles are snacks.

When we gets drunk we gets steaming,
When we gets ill we gets bad,
When we get ‘appy everythin’s lovely,
All we want is a cwtch when we’re sad.

When we go out we go towning it,
On the way back we talks to ol’ drive,
When ‘e gets going ‘e fair bombs it,
A case of: “ta for getting ‘ome alive!”

We slags the place off no end mun,
But when we leave we likes to go back,
Nowhere is quite like this Swansea,
No one un’erstands us unless thera Jack!

Victoria Phillips