Classic Poem

Come all you bonny boys
Who love to bait the bonny bull,
Who take delight in noise,
And you shall have your bellyful.
On Stamford's town bull-running day,
We'll show you such right gallant play;
You never saw the like, you'll say,
As you shall see at Stamford.

Earl Warren was the man
That first began this gallant sport;
In the castle he did stand
And saw the bonny bulls that fought.
The butchers with their bulldogs came,
These sturdy, stubborn bulls to tame,
But more with madness did inflame;
Enraged, they ran through Stamford.

Delighted with the sport,
The meadows there he freely gave;
Where these bonny bulls had fought,
The butchers now do hold and have;
By charter they are strictly bound
That every year a bull be found:
Come, dight your face, you dirty clown,
And stump away to Stamford.

Come, take him by the tail, boys,
Bridge, bridge him if you can;
Prog him with a stick, boys,
Never let him quiet stand.
Through every street and lane in town
We'll chevy-chase him up and down:
You sturdy bungstraws ten miles around
Come stump away to Stamford.