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Bladey's Beuk O' Newcassel Sangs The Tradition of Northumbria
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eccentricities so often seized upon by our local poets
as subjects of humourous satire, are fast disappearing, and ere many
more years shall have elapsed, the Songs of our Local Bards
will be the only memorials of the peculiar characteristics of this
ancient border town. Should an occasional coarseness of language
meet the eye, let not the fastidious reader forget, that such were
the modes of expression used by the parties described, and that elegance
of language would be as much out of place as are the polished classical
sentences of Shenstone' s rustics, so often and so justly a theme
of censure .-Adapted from the Newcastle Song Book or Tyne-Side
Songster, W.& T. Fordyce, Newcastle Upon Tyne.
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"Weel may the keel Row!
The "Tyneside National Anthem", as it has been called has been claimed-
both melody and
words-as Scottish. Mr. John Stokoe, in the monthly Chronicle,
shows this claim to be unfounded,
and proves, by an interesting reference to William Shield, the famous
Swalwell muscian that "the
Keel Row was a popular Tyneside melody bofore 1700. Few melodies, he
adds, are so identified with
a district as our simple nad beautiful melody of the "Keel Row" is
associated with Norhumbria a
nd Tyneside."
-Allan's Illustrated Edition of Tyneside Songs and Readings...., Thomas and George Allan, NewcastleUpon Tyne, 1891
As I came thro' Sandgate, thro' Sandgate, thro' Sandgate,
As I came thro' Sandgate, I heard a lassie sing
Weel may the keel row, the keel row, the keel row,
Weel may the keel row that my laddie's in.
Oh, wha's like my Johnnie, sae leish, sae blighe, sae bonny?
He's foremost 'mang the mony Keel lads o' coaly Tyne.
He'll set and row sae tightly, or in the dance sae sprightly
He'll cut and shuffle sightly; 'tis true - were he not mine.
He wears a blue bonnet, blue bonnet, blue bonnet,
He wears a blue bonnet, a dimple in his chin;
And weel may the keel row, the keel row, the keel row,
And weel may the keel row that my laddie's in.
My lad's ower bonnie, ower cannie, ower bonnie-
My lad's ower cannie, for the coal trade---
He's fitter for a merchant, a merchant, a merchant,
He's fitter for a merchant, than a man-o'O-war's blade.
Bright star of Heaton, your ay wour darling sweet one,
May Heaven'sblessings leet on you, your lady, bairins, and ye--
Weel may the keel row, &c.
(Last verse addressed to Sir Matthew White Ridley, of Heaton
known as Canny Sir Matthew)
Last two verses found in:
The Bishoprick Garland, London, Nichols and Baldwin and Cradock,
1834, Graham, 1969.
-Source for 1st three verses: A Beuk
o' Newcassel Sangs. Joseph Cawhall,
1888
In Allan the source is cited as Ritson's
"Northumberland Garland," 1793.
Only the first and third verses are present.
In the first the words are-
"As I went up Sandgate" in stead of thro'.
This version is called the-
"Correct version" as opposed to the "Street
Version"
Street Version The
Keel Row
As aw was gawn thro' San'get, thro'
San'get, thro' San'get,
As aw was gawn throi' San' get aw
her'd th' lasses sing--
Weel may th' keel row, th' keel
row, th' keel row,
Weel may th' keel row that maw lad's
in!
He wears a blue bonnet, a bunch of
ribbons on it ;
He wears a blue bonnet, a dimple
in his chin:
And 'weel may th' keel row, th'
keel row, th' keel row.
an' weel may th' keel row that may
lad's in!
-Allan's
Illustrated Edition of Tyneside Songs and Readings...., Thomas and George Allan, NewcastleUpon Tyne, 1891
Whe's like my Johnny,
Sae leish, sae blithe, sae bonny,
He's foremost 'mang the mony
Keel lads o' Coaly Tyne;
He'll set or row so tightly,
Or in the dance so sprightly,
He'll cu' and shuffle slightly,
'Tis true--were he not mine.
chorus:
Weel may the keel row,
The keel row, the keel row,
Weel may the keel row,
That my laddie's in;
He wears a blue bonnet,
A bonnet, a bonnet,
He wears a blue bonnet,
A dimple in his chin.
He's ne mair learning,
Than tells his weekly earning,
Yet reet frae wrang discerning,
Tho' brave, ne bruiser he;
Thoi' he no worth a plack is,
His awn coat on his back is,
And nane can say that black is
The white o' Johhny's ee.
Each pay-day nearly,
He takes his quairt right dearly,
Then talks O, latin O,--cheerly,
Or mavies jaws away;
How caring not a feather,
Nelson and he together,
The springy French did lether,
And gar'd them shab away.
Were a' kings comparely,
In each I'd spy fairly,
An' ay wad Johnny barly,
He gets sic bonny bairns;
Go bon, the queen, or misses,
But wad for Johnny's kisses,
Luik upon as blisses,
Scrimp meals, caff beds, and dairns.
Wour lads, like their deddy,
To fight the French are ready,
But gie's a peache that's steady,
And breed cheap as lang syne;
May a' the press gangs perish,
Each lass her laddy cherish;
Lang may the Coal Trade flourish
Upon the dingy Tyne.
Breet Star o' Heaton,
Your ay wour darling sweet'en,
May heaveh's blessings leet on
Your leady, bairns, and ye;
God bless the King and Nation,
Each bravely fill his station,
Our canny Corporation,
Lang may they sing wi'me
-By TT, in: Bell also in Allan's Illustrated Edition of Tyneside
Songs and Readings...., Thomas and George Allan, NewcastleUpon Tyne, 1891 with the note:
"The Oldest and by far the most popular, of all the additions
to, or imitations of, the famous fragment, "The Keel Row." To the old
tune".
The author is listed as Thomas Thompson.
Keel Row III
Chorus-
Weel may the keel row,
the keel row, the keel row,
Weel may the keel row, and better may she speed:
Weel may the keel row, the keel row, the keel row,
Weel may the keel row, that gets athe bairns their breed.
We teuk wor keel up to the dyke,
Up to the dyke, up to the dyke,
We teuk wor keel up to the dyke,
And there we gat her load;
Then sail'd away down to Shields,
Down to Shields, down to Shields,
Then sail'd away down to Shields,
And shipp'd wor coals abroad.
Then we row'd away up to the fest,
Up to the fest, up to the fest,
We row'd away up to the fest,
Cheerly every man;
Pat by wor gear and moor'd wor keel,
And moor'd wor keel, and Moor'd wor keel,
Pat by wor gear and moor'd wor keel,
Then went and drak wor can,
Our canny wives, our clean fireside,
Our bonny bairns, their parent's pride,
Sweet smiles that make life smoothly glide,
We find when we gan hyem:
They'll work for us when we get au'd,
The'll keep us frae the winter's cau'd;
As lifedeclines they'll us uphaud--
When young we uphaud them.
-T. Thompson (Listed as Keel Row "New" --In: The Newcastle Song Book or Tyne-Side Songster., W&T Fordyce
Newcastle Upon Tyne.
One mornen wen aw went ta wark, th'seet wis most exsiten.
Aw ard a noise en luckt aroond, en we de ye think wis fiten?
Aw stud amaisd en at thim gaisd, te see thim in such raiges,
For aw nivor seed e row like that between th' Brockwil caiges.
Wor aud caige sais: "Cum over th' gaits, becaws it's mei intenshin
To let th' see wethor too or me is th' best invenshin."
Th' neuin been raised, teuk off his clais, then at it thae went
dabbin;
Th' blud wis runnen doon th' skeets an past th' weimin's cabin.
Wor aud caige sais: "Let's heh me clais; thoo thwot thit thoo
cud flae me,
But if aw'd been is young is thoo, aw's certain aw cud pae thee."
Th' patent knockt hees ankel off, en th' buaith ad cutten fuaices.
Th' shifters rapt three for te ride, so th' buaith went te thor
plaices.
Wen gannen up en doon th' shaft, th' paitint caige did threetin
For te tuaik wor audin's life if thae stopt it meeten.
Wor aud caige bawld oot is thae passt: "Thoo nasty dorty paitint,
Rub thee ies eguain th' skeets -aw think too's ardly wakinit."
Th' patint te wor aud caige sais: "Altho aw be a strangoer,
Aw kin work me wark is weel is thoo, an free th' men freh daingor.
Noo, if th' rope shub brick we me, aud skinny jaws, just watch
us-
Thoo'll see me clag on te th' skeets, for aw's full e springs
en catches."
Wor aud caige te th' paitint sais: "Aw warned thoo think thoo's
clivor
Becaws thi'v polished thoo we paint, but thoo'l not last for
ivor.
The paint on thoo 'ill wer awae, an then thoo's lost thei beuty;
Th' nivor painted me at aal, en still aw've deun my deuty."
Th' braiksmin browt thim buaith te bank, th' mischeef for te sattil,
Thae fit frae five o'clock te six, en th' paitint won th' battle.
It teuk th' braiksmin half e shift te clag thim up wi plaistors.
Wor aud caige sent hees noatece in, but just te vex th' maistors.
The song was written by Tommy Armstrong (1848-1919) of Tanfield,
County Durham. The above is as he wrote it, "Pitmatic" dialect and
all, and is taken from A.L Lloyd's Folk Song in
England. The song was set to a traditional melody, used
earlier by Alexander Rodger for Robin Tamson's Smiddy.
Fresh aw cum frae Sandgate Street,
Dol-li, dol-li
Maw best freends here to meet,
Dol-li-a
Dol-li the dillen dol,
Dol-li, dol-li
Dol-li th dillen dol,
Dol-li-a
The Black Cuffs is gawn away,
Dol-li, dol-li,
An' that'll be a crying day
Dol-li-a
Dol-li the dillen dol,
Dol-li, dol-li
Dol-li th dillen dol,
Dol-li-a
Dolly Coxon's pawn'd her sark,
Do li, do li,
To ride upon the baggage cart.
Do li a, &c-*
The Green Cuffs is cummin' in,
Dol-li, dol-li,
An' that'll make the lasses sing
Dol-li-a
Dol-li the dillen dol,
Dol-li, dol-li
Dol-li th dillen dol,
Dol-li-a
-Allan's Illustrated Edition of Tyneside Songs and Readings...., Thomas and George Allan, Newcastle Upon Tyne, 1891 with the note:
"A song famous in Newcastle about the years 1792-3-4. The "Black Cuffs",
the North York Militia, The "Green Cuffs", the 23rd Ulster Dragoons.
Where have ye been all the day, Billy Boy, Billy Boy?
Where have ye been all the day, me Billy Boy?
I've been walking all the day
With me charming Nancy Grey.
Chorus And so me Nancy kittled me fancy,
Oh me charming Billy Boy.
Is she fit to be your wife, Billy Boy, Billy Boy?
Is she fit to be your wife, me Billy Boy?
She as fit to be my wife
As the fork is to the knife.
Chorus
Can she cook a bit o' steak, Billy Boy, Billy Boy?
Can she cook a bit o' steak, me Billy Boy?
She can cook a bit o' steak,
Aye, and make a girdle cake.
Chorus
Can she make an Irish stew, Billy Boy, Billy Boy?
Can she make an Irish stew, me Billy Boy?
She can make an Irish stew,
Aye, and 'Singin' Hinnies' too.
When the Boat comes in/Dance to
thy Daddy For notaton click here For midi sound click
here
Come here me little Jacky,
now ah've smoked me baccy,
let's hev a bit of cracky,
till the boat comes in.
Dance to thee Daddy, sing to thee Mammy,
dance to thee Daddy, to thee Mammy sing;
Thou shalt hev a fishy on a little dishy,
thou shalt hev a fishy when the boat comes in.
Here's thy mother humming,
like a canny woman;
Yonder comes thy fatha,
drunk - he cannat stand.
Dance to thee Daddy, sing to thee Mammy,
dance to thee Daddy, to thee Mammy sing;
Thou shalt hev a fishy on a little dishy,
thou shalt hev a haddock when the boat comes in
Our Tommy's always fuddling,
he's so fond of ale,
but he's kind to me,
I hope he'll never fail.
Dance to thee Daddy, sing to thee Mammy,
dance to thee Daddy, to thee Mammy sing;
Thou shalt hev a fishy on a little dishy,
thou shalt hev a Bloater when the boat comes in
I like a drop mesel',
when I can get it sly,
and thou, my bonny bairn,
will like't as well as I.
Dance to thee Daddy, sing to thee Mammy,
dance to thee Daddy, to thee Mammy sing;
Thou shalt hev a fishy on a little dishy,
thou shalt hev a Mackerel when the boat comes in.
May we get a drop,
oft as we stand in need;
and weel may the keel row
that brings the bairns tha breed.
Dance to thee Daddy, sing to thee Mammy,
dance to thee Daddy, to thee Mammy sing;
Thou shalt hev a fishy on a little dishy,
thou shalt hev a Salmon when the boat comes in.
-In Allan's Illustrated Edition of Tyneside Songs and Readings...., Thomas and George Allan, NewcastleUpon Tyne, 1891. Author lsited
as Watson and source: Fordyce's "Newcastle song Book," 1842"
Wor Geordey an' Bob Jonsin byeth lay i' one bed,
Iv a little lodgjin hoose that's doon the shore,
Before Bob had been an' oor asleep, a kick frae
Geordey's fut
Myed him wakin up to roar instead o' snore.
Korus. "Keep yor feet still! Geordey, hinny, let's bve happy
for the neet,
For aw maynit be se happy throo the day.
So give us that bit cumfort, --keep yor feet still, Geordey
lad,
An' dinnet send maw bonny dreams away!"
Aw dreamt thor was a dancin held, an' Mary Clark wes there;
An' aw thowt we tript it leetly on the floor,
An' aw prest her heevin breest te mine when walsin roond
the room,
That's mair than aw dor ivor de before.
Ye'll knaw the lad that she gans with, they call him Jimmy
Green,
Aw thowt he tried te spoil us i' wor fun,
But aw dreamt aw nail;'d him heavy, an' blackt the big
feul's eyes;
If aw'd slept it's hard to tell what aw wad deun.
Aw thowt aw set her hyem that neet, content we went alang.
Aw kiss'd her lips a hundred times or mair,
An' aw wish'd the road wad nivor end, se happy like wes
aw,
Aw cud wlak'd a thoosind miles wi' Mary there!
Aw dremt Jim Green had left the toon an' left his luv
te me,
An' aw thowt the hoose wis furnish'd wi' the best,
An' aw dreamt aw just had left the church wi' Mary be
me side,
When yor clumsy feet completely spoil'd the rest."
I went to Blaydon Races, 'twas on the ninth of June,
Eighteen hundred on sixty-two on a summer's efternoon.
I tyuk the bus fra Balmbra's an' she was heavy laden.
Away we went along Collingwood street that's on the road to Blaydon.
Chorus -
Oh! lads ye shud of seen us gannin',
We pass'd the foaks along the road Just as they wor stannin';
Thor wes lots o' lads and lasses there, all wi' smiling faces,
Gawn alang the Scotswood Road To see the Blaydon Races.
We flew past Armstrong's factory and up to the 'Robin Adair'
Just gannin doon te the railway bridge the bus wheel flew off
there.
The lassies lost their crinolines off, an' the veils that hide
their faces
An' aw got two black eyes an' a broken nose in gan te Blaydon
Races.
Chorus
When we gat the wheel put on, away we went agyen,
But them that had their noses broke they cam back ower hyem;
Sum went to the dispensary an' uthers to Dr. Gibbs
An' sum sought out the Infirmary to mend their broken ribs.
Chorus
Now when we got to Paradise thor wes bonny gam begun;
There were fower-and-twenty on the 'bus, man, hoo they danced
and sung;
They called on me to sing a sang, I sung them 'Paddy
Fagan",
Aw danced a jig an' swung me twig the day I went to Blaydon.
Chorus
We flew across the Chain Bridge reet into Blaydon toon
The bellmen he was callin' there they called him Jackey Brown;
Aw saw him talkin' to sum cheps, an' them he was persuadin'
To gan an' see Geordy Ridley's show in the Mechanics Hall at Blaydon.
Chorus:
The rain it poor'd all the day, an' myed the groons quite muddy
'Coffy Johnny' had a white hat on-they war shootin' "Whe stole
the cuddy"
There wes spice stalls an' munkey shows, and an' aud wives sellin ciders,
An' a chep wvi' a hapenny roond aboot shootin' "Now, me boys,
for
riders."
-In Allan's Illustrated Edition of Tyneside Songs and Readings...., Thomas and George Allan, NewcastleUpon Tyne, 1891.
With the Note: Ridley (Geordie) Author's Manuscript 1862.
-The Whisky Priests have used this tune for their song "The Car-Boot
Sale"
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