It was on the news that I heard
About
the loss of dame Thora Hird
She
died at the age of ninety-one
She
always reminded me of my mum
I
will really miss dear Thora Hird
She
was ordinary, yes that’s the word
Thora
Hird was down to earth I’d say
The
lass who came from Morecambe bay
She
trod the boards since a babe in arms
But
no pomposity was one of her charms
With
a glint in her eye, she would say
In
that warm and conspiratorial way
The
best thing to come out of Yorkshire
Was
the road to her beloved Lancashire
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