There's rich folks up Gornal an' Rewiton Road,
They rairkin' it in an' they keepin' it co'ed;
Ter see some a'walkin' about in the street,
Yo'd think as they cud'na buy shoes fer theyre feet,
But theer aye many short of a thousan' er tew,
Yo' should see theyre big 'ouses an' all wi' a view.

Yo'n 'eared of o'de Caleb whose donkey took fright,
An' tipped th'ode mon's salt blocks ter left an' ter right,
Well, Caleb wuz rich, tho' 'e never ler' on,
But one night 'e sot in 'The Strigglin' Mon',
An' 'eared some blokes talkin' who said they'd bin toed,
As the Gov'mint wun pouncin' on folks who'd got gold.

Soo Caleb scrairped nearer an' listened some mooere,
A' spillin' 'is bitter all ower the flooer,
An' from wot 'e cud gather, it looked pretty grim,
'Cos the Guv'mint 'ud shewerly be down after 'im;
Wi' all them gold sov'rins stoored under the bed,
Soo 'e started ter figure things out in 'is yed.

These blokes kep' on talkin' an suppin' up beer,
Theyre tongues gerrin' lewse till it suen become clear,
As one er tew on 'em 'ad gold stoored away,
Kep' ready in cairse of a rainy day,
Soo they reckoned, nex' day, they wun gooin' ter goo down,
An' tek all theyre gold ter the bonk in the town.

Then Caleb rushed 'um ter Big Kath'rin' 'is wife,
An' said 'Ar've 'eered summat wot's shortened mar life !
Yo' know them theer sov'rins wot wee'n stored away,
Well they'm gooin' in the Bonk wi'out fairther delay;
Ar've 'eared as the Gov'mint an' med it a law,
As folks wot's got gold coins cor 'ave 'em no mooere.'

The very nex' motnin' they gor' out the cart,
Gid Pongo the donkey fower carrots ter start,
Then they airved up the bath wi' the sov'rins in,
An' trotted away at a pretty good spin,
At the Bonk Caleb said ter the mon at the grill,
'Ar've brought me gold sov'rins ter put in yore till !'

The Manijer cum, 'e says 'Ah, let me see !
How many gold sov'rins sir - one, two or three ? '
O'de Caleb tairned roun' an' 'e loffed wi' Big Kath,
' Theer's ower five thousan' out theer in a bath !'
The Manijer gawped an' become a changed mon,
'E put all 'is poshest cumflewshushniss on;

' My dear sir ! ' says 'e 'Pray forgive me, please do !
I'll get the red carpet put down jus' fer you.'
The 'e called ter the chap sittin' theer at the grill,
'Pray fetch that theer bath from the cart will you Will ?'
The bath wuz 'aived in an' the gold wuz tipped out,
An' the sun come right on it an' flashed it about.

The Manijers mouth weatered therr at the sight,
While they counted it out jus' ter see it wuz right.
They counted it once, an' they counted it twice,
Then Caleb 'e counted it, meckin' it thrice,
'Five thousan' five 'undered's wot oughta be 'ere !'
Says Caleb 'Theer's tew 'undered missin 'ar fear !'

Soo Caleb went white fer a moment er tew,
An' the manijer's fairce tairned tew colours o' blew,
They booth scratched theyre yeds where they dae itch at all,
While the customers waited all fumin' wi' gall;
Then Caleb cried 'Damn an' set fiyer tew it Kath !
Ar know wot we'n done now - we'n brought the wrung bath

written by J William Jones and contributed by Paul Bowen