If anyone is a Pam Ayres fan like me, then by all means read this poem and imagine the Pam Ayres accent.
I'll have to cut me hair today, me hair it's gone all wrong.
It's old and grey and very coarse like a sailor and his song.
A patch of barren ground on top with worn-out carpet all around.
The icy wind glides over me head and makes me wanna frown.
But in the mirror tis shearing day and I'll psych me self up too.
To trim the beard and old mustache and see the armpits through.