THE TWIN-BROTHERS' BIRTHDAY. BY JOSEPH WILSON.

TO HIS TWIN BROTHER, THOMAS WILLSON.

Dear brother Tom,

 Our birthday's come,

 And now we're seventeen;

 'Mid smiles and tears,

 Seventeen long years

 Have glided like a dream

 Since first we saw a mother's smile

 Beam on us like a ray

 Of pleasing hope throughout life's path,

 To cheer us on our way.

 And now we gaze

 Upon those days,

 Which memory paints so fair,

 When we have played,

 And often strayed

Far from a parent's care;

We think upon our childhood's days,

Affection then expands

Throughout our breasts, with brother's love

 We grasp each other's hands.

 Together we

Will ever be

 As we have ever been;

 Let years roll on,

 We think upon

 Each fond and cherished scene,  

Since first we came into this world,

 Together, yet one in heart,

 Let us then hope, and trust in God,

 We ne'er will have to part.

BOB HOBSON'S ADVICE TIll HIS SON.

A RECITASHUN.

BOB HOBSON sat before the fire,

 An' puff'd his baccy smoke,

 A pictor ov a gud aud sire,

 That can give or tyek a joke;

He puff'd away, luck'd wiselyroond,

Wink'd slyly at young Dan,

Then like a mortal wisdom croon'd,

Thus tiv his son began :

Maw canny lad, ye've noo arrived

 At a wild, unsartain age,

So wi' me tung aw've just contrived

A lesson worth a sage :

Luck forward te the sunny side,

The dark side scarcely scan,

An' nivor deal wi' dirty pride,

If ye want te be a man.

Tyek a' advice that ye can get,

Turn not yor heed away,

Or let foaks put ye i' the pet,

Wi' anything they say;

For inforrnashun myeks us wise,

An' shows which way te steer;

Be careful,-if ye want te rise,

Be canny wi' the beer.

Keep close yor mooth I-watch weel yor words,

Afore ye let them oat,

For thowtless speeches myek discords,

An' put foaks sair aboot;

Keep passion always frae yor door,

Send selfishthowts away,

An' nivor let foaks chawk a score

Ye think ye cannet pay!

Let honesty yor motto be,

Mark weel these words, aw say,

For if thor worth ye dinnet see

Ye'll mebbies rue the day;

Save up, te thrive, mind weel yor pense,

Put not yor claes j' pawn,

But keep them oat, yorsel te mense,

Thor's nyen fits like yor awn!

Dinnet tell lees, sic ackshuns scorn,

Unworthy ov a man,

Let truth as pure as ye war born,

For ivor be yor plan;

Stick close te frinds that ye've fund true,

Strite-forward, kind, an' free;

De nowt te myek yor conshuns rue,

An' a "Happy Man" ye'll be !

ABSENT FRIENDS.

As in nights of dreary darkness,

There may be a flitting ray,

A chaste glow of light so starry bright,

To clear the douds away;

In lone moments of dark sadness,

HOPE will lighten ev'ry pain,

Till the soul knows not its gladness,

And our hearts their peace regain.

Though oft in sad lamentation

We mourn for an absent friend,

Each relation or separation,

A cheering word we send;

Hope! thou star of light, we listen

To thy pure consoling strain;

WELCOME in each eye will glisten,

Absent friends to meet again.

Wife

Wisdom's worth but little, if te worldly joys

 I t turns a scornful ear, myeks luv a jest;

F or i' this simple verse ye'll find a neym

Entwined wi' ivry bliss te myek man blest.

ON PRESENTING A FAIRING TO A FAIR LADY AT NEWCASTLE FAIR.

MINE own FAIR darling, FAIR as morning's light,

Sweet gem of nature's morn, and charm of night,

FAIR-er than the FAIR-est, with no compare,

'Tis FAIR that one so FAIR should have a FAIR;

Af-FAIRS of love, perhaps, the heart might vex,

And FAIR-lywith a FAIR, thy mind perplex;

Yet with FAIR-neSS"for FAIRS"my love I'd tell,

I'd rather say well-FARE than say FARE-well!

Without my FAIR-y, poor would be my FARE,

Then take thy FAIR-ing from my humble care.

CHAMPIONS O' THE TYNE.

Cheers for the careful, the canny, the clivor

Champions combined on wor coally river,

Clasper an' Candlish-the boast 0' past days,

Chambers an' Cooper-the theme 0' men's praise.

LONG HAVE I SADLY WAITED.

LONG have I sadly waited

For a dear and treasured word,

From the wand'rer o'er the sea,

To dispel the sad discord

Raging here within me,

With torture night and morn;

For oh, to live in sad suspense,

Uncertain and forlorn.

Long have I sadly waited

For a message o'er the wave,

To tell me if the wand'rer lives,

Or sleeps ina foreign grave;

Oh send me word, some kindly hand,

A line but though it be,

To lighten dark and dreary hours,

My soul's impatience free.

AUD NELLY'S ADVICE TIV HER DOWTOR!

A RECITASHUN.

AUD Nelly plied her needle, byeth careful, fine, an' swiftly,

Then she gazed wi' muther's pride iv her bonny dowtor's een,

Her mind wi' past joys reelin, she blist the dear form kneelin,

Sweet coonsil then revealin te that sweet flooer 0' sivinteen.

Maw eumley pet, maw hinny, aw' prood te see yor bonny,

But words 0' praise oft myek eonseet, an' beauty oft brings pain.

Aw'd like te see ye cosey, yor cheeks keep reed an' rosey,

As bloomin as a posey, but aw dinnit want ye vain!

Cawshus i' yor Iuv affairs, yor shoor te fettle canny,

So dinnit thraw me words aside for owt that lads may say;

For oft they'll sweer devoshun, an' tell ye thor greet noshun,

But like the tretch'rous oshin, they smile an' then betray.

It's not the fyece that myeks the man, fine eyes, or hair that's corly,

An honest heart an' kindly hand's far better then the pair;

So when ye gan a cortin, spoil not yorsel wi' flortin,

Or else ye'll find ne sport in the lot that's for yor share.

If dancin ye shud fancy, mind weel what steps yor takin,

For one false step oft puts foaks rang, ne mair to be put reet.

For gud an' bad steps glancin, i' life, itsel, like dancin,

We've a' te tyek wor chance in, an' tyest byeth soor an' sweet.

Let uther foaks' affairs alyen, if ye mind yor awn ye've plenty,

An' nivor myek a practice 0' gannin ootte tea,

For there thor's often clashin, wi' mischief myekin pashun,

If they'd tawk 'boot nowt but fashun, then, an' only then, 'twad de.

Keep the hoose byeth clean an' tidy,-dinnit gan a drinkin,

A drunkin wife's the plague 0' life, a dorty wife's the syem!

Wi" neybors dinnet gossip,-wi' scandal gud nyems toss up,

Ye'd mair need gan an' poss up the claes ye've left at hyem.

Attend yor hoosehold duties wi' heart byeth leet an' cheerful,

An' let yor gudman's cumforts be yor studdy a' throo life,

An' stop his mooth frae sweerin, wi' nice kind words, endearin,

Thor's nowt te man see cheerin as a true an' canny wife!

MIDNIGHT THOUGHTS

Written at Midnight, July 18th, 1859.

I GAZED on the dark blue sky,

One summer's still midnight,

And my lips breathed forth a sigh

As I long'd for the morning's light,

For sleep had deserted mine eyes,

And I could not calmly rest,

And again as I look'd at the skies,

My heart beat quick in my breast.

What thoughts then flewthrough my brain

At that silent hour of night, Scenes past, were present again,

Like a vision-supremely bright;

Dear forms appear'd to mine eyes,

And faces I long had mourn'd,

Seemed around me again to rise,

And the once happy past return'd.

IN MEMORY OF THE HARTLEY CATASTROPHE

January 16th, 1862.

By which 204 Men and Boys were buried alive in New Hartley Pit.

By the watch-fire's glow, 'mid the falling snow,

There reigns a death-like gloom,

Whilst prayers are murmured for those below

Immur'd in a living tomb.

With a tearless eye, and despairing sigh,

Too sad, too griev'd to weep,

The watcher's wild and heart-rending cry

 Is heard on the cold pit-heap.

'Mid the shaft's foul air, the brave searchers dare

Its dangers to defy;

“Have mercy, 0 God!" is the last sad prayer

Of the miners doom'd to die.

Again from below, to the scene of woe

The searchers bold appear,

Their words breathe hope, while their glances show

Dread signs of desponding fear.

Seven days have pass'd, they are found at last,

Too LATE, sweet life to save,

For death's mighty spell is o'er them cast,

In that dark and fearful grave.

Breathe forth a prayer for bereav'd ones there,

Whose peace of mind hath fled,

Good Lord, soothe with thy heav'nly care

Those who mourn the hapless dead.

LAUGHING EYES.

 I LOVE to gaze on laughing eyes,

Bright eyes that seem forever smiling,

They make such happy thoughts arise,

With joyous look each heart beguiling

And yet how often they deceive,

Those lovely eyes, so careless glancing,

Their truth, alone, we but believe,

Such power have they, each mind entrancing.

May sorrow never cast a cloud,

Upon those eyes serenely beaming;

Oh never may dark care enshroud,

And dull the lustre of their gleaming;

Could I but know those orbs of joy

From holy virtue ne'er would sever

I'd pray might nought that bliss alloy,

Smile on, sweet eyes, smile on for ever!

A frind i' need's the frind that's deed, if he leeves ye se much an 'eer te console yorsel with. It keeps him i' yor memry, ye knaw.

THE DAY 0' LIFE.

TWES a bright sunny morn when Bill Tait's bairn we born

An' the glasses went roond tiv a reet merry teun:

An' the muther she smiled at the fethur se wild

Wi' joy at the birth ov a fine healthy sun:

Its bit soft cheek wes kiss'd, an' its muther weel blist,

An' thor health drunk agyen, an' agyen, te convey

Thor neybors' rispect wi' the best 0' gud feelin:

What a sweet little pictor-the dawn 0' Life's day!

Next door, a grand weddin, each young heart te gladden

Myed curious heeds pop throo windows an' doors,

Te see the bride blushin, an' a' the crood pushin

Te welcum Dick Scott an' the lass he adores;

Wi' sic a fine party,-contented an' hearty,

The fleet moments rowl onward, unheeded, away:

May the bride's life be as sweet as her luver's heart's leet,

What a dear little pictor-the noon 0' Life's day!

Close at hand, doon the street, i' the dusk 0' the neet,

Bill Carr, sair wi' suffrin, lay waitin for Deeth,

He sadly luckt roond, but nyen there cud help him,

An' darkness set in as he drew his last breeth:

The birth ov a bairn's like the dawn 0' the mornin,

An' a weddin's the noon, wi' the sun's cheerin ray,

An' Deeth's the dark neet that's se sartin te follow,

The dreary dark pictor that closes Life's day!

PRETTY SWEETHEART, JESSIE MAY

OH! Jessie, I am often doubting

That your love for me is true,

Ever changeful, laughing,-pouting,

Thus I often think of you;

Could I know its long endurance,

Lighter then my heart would be,

Give me but that dear assurance,

Then I'd live and love but thee.

I like but not a night's flirtation,

Scenes that never bring forth joy,

They dull each happy expectation,

Every blissful thought alloy;

Could I know that nought would sever

Hopes that linger night and day,

Then I'd call you mine for ever,

Pretty sweetheart, Jessie May.

Oblige ivrybody if ye can, an' if ye cannet, dinnet hinder onybody else for dein't.

ACROSTIC.

R EMEMBER,ye Bards, the famous J. P.,

O v Tyneside,-a Poet of highest degree,

B ard 0' the Tyne an' Minstrel 0' the Wear,

S preedin the harmony we like te hear;

O v a' the greet writers, reet foremost he'll shine,

Noo an' for iver 'mang Bards 0' the Tyne.

 SALLY WHEATLEY'S COMMENTS

Delightful-Gettin yor lass te set ye hyem for a change.

Delishus-Roast Pork an' onions wiv a lot 0' gudtemper'd fyeces roond it.

Delicate- Tyekin bad wi' the thowts on't.

SALLY WHEATLEY'S COMMENTS

ON THE LUV LETTER SHE GOT FRAE CHARLEY BLACK, THE KEYSIDE CLERK.

SCENE.-The Hoose where Sally leeves-Sally I’ the Kitchen, sittin reedin the last Luv Letter she got frae Charley Black (that's her lad, ye knaw).

SALLY.-Poatry agyen, bliss me, what a queer lad he is; what a

heedpiece he hes, aw sav, but aw wish he wad rite it i' the Newcassel tung,-aw's fairly bamboozled wi' se monny fine words.

(Reeds.)

How oft in lonely moments have I sought

 A sweet repose in calm poetic thought,

To recall past joys, and each hope extol,

To light the darkness of a yearning soul.

Gudness grayshus me, what can Charley mean? He cannet for a moment imadgin that aw meant owt serious when aw went te Jesmond Gardens wi' Jimmy Allan. Aw's sure Jimmy's a greet frind 0' mine, an' aw might as weel turn jealous me-sel an' say sumthing, for it diddent luck varry weel 0' Charley settin Hannah Broon hyem frae the dancin at Mrs. Elliott's. Aw wassent hawf pleased when Peggy Morrison tell'd us aboot it.

Our hearts were not made to be thrown away,

Or FIRST LOVE born to live but for a day;

'Mid forms and faces made to charm the eye,

First Love may sleep but it can never die!

Whey, that is nice i-it just puts us i' mind 0' the neet when Charley an' me had wor forst wawk throo Friday Fields. What a neet that was, aw say! Aw's sure aw varry nigh fainted when Charley tell'd us that aw wes his" forst an' only luv;" His voice trimmild se, an' he luck'd se frighten'd like, poor lad. Maw bonny Charley!

Could we believe that whilst there's doubt there's hope,

How soon might sadness with despair elope.

Aw wad far seuner see Charley elope wi' me, but thor's nyen ov that noo-a-days. What fun thor mun heh been when aud Nelly Simpson's granmuther's greet granfethur ron away wi' Mistress Murphy (a widow body that leeved next door, an' a distant relayshun te Betty McGill that keeps a mangle at the tuther side 0' the street) te Gretna Green, an' got a blacksmith te marry them wiv a hammer. But aw dinnet knaw what te myek 0' Charley, he hes ne confidence like; an' it dissent luck wee! the lasses deein a' the coortin thorsels, aw's sure it dissent!

'Twas so with me-if truth must now be told,

I thought of thee-pray do not deem me bold;

For when the heart is full the tongue must speak,

On paper even consolation seek.

Consolayshun on paper, hooiver i' the world will he find consolayshun on paper? Aw wish Charley had niver written poatry, Ye cannet myek these fellows oot at a. Wad ye believe he actwilIy said it wes a greet releef tiv his feelins, when he cud put doon his thowts on paper? the silly lad, when he might hey cum an'tell'd me what he wes put aboot aboot, an' where will he find better consolayshun? Charley, if ye only knew't !

Your smile shone on me like a sunny morn, Affection hoped and cherished a return,

But when your looks grew cold, hope disappear-d,

And bitter feelings in its place career'd;

I thought another, much more happy, he

Had claim'd the heart I thought belong'd to me.

Iv a' yor life did ye ivor see such a jealous lot 0' mortals as the men foaks. Aw've nivor had ony peace since Jimmy Allan per swayded us te hey a wawk wiv him.

Then into folly-which I now repent,

I heedless rush'd-s-say, love, can you relent?

Relent! aw think aw can, but it dissent luck weel gein in thereckly. Aw'll plague him a bit forst. Aw knaw varry weel what folly he's hintin at, the slee deevll, He hessent forgettin settin Hannah hyem frae Elliott's dancin yit.

Forgive and favour, if you still are free,

My earnest wish to live and love but thee;

Then once more o'er me let your spell be thrown,

That I may can you-Sarah, dear, mine own!

SARAH! what a funny soond that hes te be sure, an' it's me reet nyem tee. He wants te call me his awn! it's a' settled, it's a sartinty it's settled; he just needs te ax me fethur an' muther, for it's a' reet wi' me. Jinny Thompson's promised us the mahogany tyeble that stands aside the clock, an' me Uncle Bob's gan te myek us a prisint ov a feather bed an' two chairs an' a candlestick he bowt second-hand the tuther day, so thor's glorious prospects, an' if Charley cannel myek eneuff te keep us cumfortable, aw'll gan te wark me-sel (aw's a cap myeker), for thor's ne disgrace iv a wummin workin as lang as thor's ne bairns i' the road.

ACROSTIC RIDLEY

Ready was he wi' the "Bobby Cure,"

I n Stanley's hall, te myek secure

Delight tiv a' the patrons there,

Liked be them a',-but noo, ne mair

E nlivenin strains frae him ye'll hear,

Y e'll knaw ne mair poor Geordy's cheer.

WHAT YE SHUD WEER A' THROO THE EER!

AS RECCOMMENDED BE WOR GEORDEY AN' WOR PEG AN' A'.

JENNYWHORY.

GEORDEY.-A happy new eer-an' the best 0' gud cheer,

Aw wish ye may get ivry day throo the eer ; .

Noo's the time, hinnies, for yor wrappers an' coats,

An' mufflers te hinder yor hevin sair throats.

PEG.-Noo lasses, maw hinnies, luck weel te yor feet,

An' divvint heh corns on yor toes te luck neet;

Wi' strang beuts, an' pattins, an' britches cumpleet,

An' two pair 0' shawls, ye may pass throo the sleet.

FEBOORARY.

GEORDEY.-The wethor keeps dreery, still ye munnit be flaid,

But stick te the coats, tho the tailor's not paid

For thor's Jimmy the snip, that leeves on the Kee,

He nivor pays Qwt,-so it's a' reet wi' ye!

PEG.-Dinnet mind what Geordey advises the men,

If they dinnet pay him, wad he let them alyen?

Weer lang cloaks an' sealskins myed 0' gudstuff;

Dogs skin stuffed wi' straw myeks a varry gud muff.

MAIRCH.

GEORDEv.-Pork-pies may be wore i' the stomick just noo,

Dinnet mind cullors for yor nose 'Il turn bloo

Wi' keen winds that blaw frae the frost-bitten west,

For Windy cumplaints Woodcock's Pills is the best.

PEG.-Reed petticoats noo gain thor early renoon,

If ye get a gud un-dispense wi' the goon,

For when up the waist, the goon's nivvor seen;

Reed fethors leuk weel te the bonnet that's green.

YEPRIL.

GEORDEv.-UmborelIas are useful i' these kind d days,

Wi' top-coat abuv, ye may weer the aud claes ;

At Easter let dark for leet suits change places,

Save up just noo, an' yor reet for the races.

PEG.- Ye munnit gan oot if yor stockins not clean,

I' rain, lasses' legs cannet help but be seen;

Use ne umborellas, withoot thor's ne shem,

Let sum canny chep tyek an' shelter ye hyem,

MAY.

GEORDEY.-A leet suit lucks weel i' the first fashun cut,

Wi' greet peg-top pockets-tyek pains hoo ye strut;

A gud suit 0' claes lucks like nowt on the back,

Ov a chep that 'ill walk as if tied iv a sack.

PEG.-White Hats, wi 'reed tabs, wi' green leeves is the best,

A bright yallow shawl myeks foaks stare when yor drest;

A goon dubbil-skirted suits weel a smart waist

Dinnet leeve the hoose withoot byeth yor beuts laced.

JOON.

GEORDEY.-Minadge men just noo heh thor wark te get paid,

Te lie oot thor munny aw've heerd's pairt thor trade;

It's time for the races-so lads, get yor claes ;

Straw hats may be wore if the blunt ye can raise.

PEG.-Race Sunday,maw hinnies, 'ill cum roond at last;

Aw wish it wes here, an' then greeve it's gyen past,

For there aw gat Geordey when seekin a lad

Silk goons, an' leet capes, just noo dissent luck bad.

JOOLY.

GEORDEY.-For pic-nics an' trips ye had better prepare;

A greet big broad check, if it issent threed-bare,

Suits weel for excorshuns ;-a ten-shillin' hat

Leuks weel on a chep full 0' gud-temper'd fat.

PEG.-Fine muslins leuk nice gently blawn wi' the breeze,

Ye munnet weer stays if ye want a gud squeeze;

Smart petticoats frill'd wi' the best 0' blue crape

Leuks weel wi' the hoops, if yor foot's a gud shape.

AWGIST.

GEORDEY.-Black claes is the best that a fellow can buy,

They leuk se genteel, aw'd advise ye te try

A suit just like this, for they'll suit ivry day

Dorty shoes dissent leuk weel te such a display.

PEG.-Black velvet roond hats trim'd wi' ribbin bright reed,
Wi' black an' white fethors a gem for the heed;
Kid gluves an' white stockins, an' fine flooncy goon,
'Ill suit ony lass i' the country or toon.

SIPTEMBOR. GEORDEY.-Siptembor's the time for the men te weer tweeds,

Soft hats is the things for the cheps wi' soft heeds;

Aw wad change the neck-ties for sumthin that's thick,

An eye-glass leuks weel on a swell wiv a stick!

PEG.-Sum bonny corn heeds, for the season's forst-class,

Stuck annunder the hat ov a gud-leukin' lass;

Wi' leaves that'll rival the Leazes, se green,

An' a dress myed 0' Linsey, she'llieuk like a queen.

OCTOBER. GEORDEY.-Darkneets set in noo,so the bestaw can say

For Chrismis te bundle yor best cIaes away

Econmy's the study for maister an' man,

So tyek me advice, an' ye'll try the best plan.

PEG.-Green goons an' white shawls is an improvement aw think,

Wi' sleeves nice an' full, trim'd wi' ribbin rose-pink,

Lang ringlets, hair oily, wi' gantlets bran new,

Myed 0' the best paper, might stonish a few.

NOVEMBER.

 GEORDEY.-White waistcoats, stiff collors, broon troosers an' coat,

White hats an' blue chokers tied tight roond the throat,

Leuk weel at a dancin', so try these, me lad,

If ye gan withoot claes yor sure te catch cawd.

PEG.-Blue goons an' white stockins just noo 'ill not fail

Te cawse greet attrackshun-wi' bright yallow veil;

Broon tabs an' black muslins leuks weel wiv a lass

That nivor at winter times leaks i' the glass.

DISSEMBOR.

GEORDEY.-Cawd neets an' cawd mornins cum roond us like fun,

The eer like the fashun's just noo's neerly deun;

Reed mufflers, big wrappers, an' gluves hae the sway,

Wor Peg knaws the rest, for aw's lickt what tesay.

PEG-Long cloaks, knickerbockers, plum puddin an' spice

The grocer's grand prissint, just noo, swalleys nice;

Gud lasses, maw hinnies, leuk oot for a lad,

A WELCUM! TE BOB CHAMBERS EFTER HIS DEFEAT FOR THE CHAMPIONSHIP.

TEUN-"John Anderson, my jo,"

Yor welcum back agyen, Bob,

Yor welcum te yor hyem,

Victorious tho ye cuddint be,

Yor welcum still the syem;

Ye've struggled hard te keep yor nyem

Untainted wi' defeat,

But Bob, yor life's just like wor awn,

Ye've bitter's weel as sweet.

Yor we1cum back agyen, Bob,

Yor welcum te the Tyne,

Where ye've displayed yor manly skill,

So dinnet ye repine;

Keep up yor heart, the day may cum

When luck 'ill turn agyen,

Hard wark 'ill tell on iron frames,

An' wettor weers a styen!

Ye've proov'd yor-sel a star, Bob,

That's kept its lustre lang,

But cloods 'ill dull the brightest star,

The best sumtimes gets rang,

An' man, Jor high amang the best

That ivor pull'd an oar,

We'll not forget,-tho beat the day,

The wundors deun before.

The nyem 0' Chambers, honest Bob,

Aw's sure 'ill nivor dee,

The brave, the game undaunted man

That struggled hard te be

The hero ov a hundrid spins,

The champion frae Tyneside,

That kept the world se lang at bay,

The lickt, yor still wor pride!

DOUBLE ACROSTIC JOE TOM

J ust as mischievous as two bairns can be,

  Tommy an' Joey fall oot an' agree,

O nything pleases or vexes the two,

  O wt that one gets, half's the tuther one's due,

E nvy an' kindness, a bairn's disposition,

  M ischievous an' merry-happy condition.

GIVE A THOWT TE THEM THAT'S GYEN.

GIVE a thowt te them that's gyen,

Ne matter where ye be,

Ye'd like te heh sum canny frind

Think on ye when ye dee,

Ye waddint like te pass away

As tho ye'd nivor been,

Ye waddint like te pass away

Like one unborn, unseen!

Give a thowt te them that's gyen,

Affecshun myed yor awn,

Tho ye may heh the best 0' hilth,

A man's ne mair nor man;

Ye cannet tell hoo seun yor turn

May cum te pass away,

Like them that's gyen awhile before

Te sleep beneath the clay.

Give a thowt te them that's gyen,

They once war like yor-sel,

So dinnet let yor mem'ry fail,

Or worldly joys dispel

Thor forms for ivor frae yor mind,

Oh, dinnet let that be,

Ye'd like te heh sum canny frind

Think on ye when ye dee !

Dexterous.- Thrawin a styen ower a hoose-top an' runnin te the tuther side te catch't afore it falls. Wor Geordy did it !

ACROSTIC. BILLY PURVIS

B AIRNS,-ye may Iissen te the aud foaks' story,

I mmusin, as they think 0' the days gyen bye,

L ively relatin the scenes 0' Billy's glory,

L astin i' mem'ry, they'll tell ye wiv a sigh,

Y e'd latft if aud Billy had ivor met yor eye.

P rood 0' thor pet, they'll tell ye hoo he acted,

U nequalled wes he, wivhis queer funny ways,

R ivals he'd nyen,-an' he's bundle attracted

V ast croods te witness thor greet delight an' praise;

I njoyment his frinds fund, frae country an' toon,

S endin them hyem laffin hearty at thor cloon.

YOUNG SPRING.

On Mr. Richard Haddrick's Model of "Young Spring" in the Gateshead Exhbitionbition.

C. 50 is a beautiful model of "Spring" by Richard Haddrick. It represents the first season of the year modestly appearing with a wreath of primroses, they being the first flowers of Spring. The child's head is beautifully and gracefully modelled, and the primroses are true to nature and very carefully given. The cast is true to nature in every point.-Gateshead Observer, May 26, 1866.

Aw wish that aw cud find sum words,

That aw might give expression

Te what aw think 0' that sweet heed,

Aw cannet-that's confession;

They tell'd us that it's nyem wes "Spring,"

The eer's forst bloom in season,

Aw luckt weel at the canny thing,

It cuddint be mair pleasin;

Se artless like an' life-like tee,

Wi' cheek as smooth as ony.

The modest smile se sweet te see,

Se calm, an' yit se bonny;

Its little eyes half-closed, as tho

It knew that aw wes glancin,

Wi' roses roond its luvely broo,

Te myek't still mair intrancin;

When forst aw saw its bonny fyece

It teuk me eye for ivor,

An' myed us wish 'twad hey a place

Amang a' things that's clivor.

Maw canny frind, aw wish ye weel,

Each critic's fine decision,

Aw hope wi' plisshur ye may feel

At this grand exhibition.

ACROSTIC NUNN

N E mair will we hear him playa bonny teun,

U nequalled wes he, when the dancin wes deun,

N yen cud chant like him, his sangs myed lots 0' fun.

N ebody pleased them like canny Bobby Nunn.

Dangerous.-Tellin yor wife she lucks as aud as Methuserlum

CHAMBERS AN' SADLER

THE CHAMPIONSHIP BROWT BACK TE THE TYNE, NOV. 22ND, 1866. Teun-"Whe's for the Bank."

THE greet event's cum offat last,

The championship it's wun,

Be Chambers, pride ova' Tyneside,

The Cocknies thor ootdeun;

Tho two te one they laid upon

Thor man te get first place,

An' badly used the Tyneside lad,

Bob Chambers wun the race.

Korus.

Then oh, lads, join i' the sang,

An' sing i' praise 0' brave Bob Chambers;

Oh, lads, join i' the sang,

The championship he's wun!

The Cocknies thowt thor man had nowt

Te de but run away Frae

Brave aud Bob, but faith the job

Wes hard eneuff, they say,

For Chambers, iv his gud aud style,

Tho wesh'd on ivry side

Be Sadler's tretchrous steam-boat crew,

Browt doon the Cockney's pride.

When Sadler fund that he wes lickt,

He pull'd across his man,

An' foul'd brave Bob, that nivvor myed

Such dirty wark his plan;

For Chambers, win or loss a race,

As game as man can be,

He always lets them heh fair-play,

That's mair then Cocknies de.

The steamboats still kept.up thor wesh,

An' tried myest a' they knew,

Te swamp the little "Coaly Tyne,"

But on she nobly flew,

Throo a' the swell the rascals myed

The race at last wes run,

An' Chamber, gud aud honest Bob,

The championship had wun,

Then sing,for Bob, the best man yit

That ivor pull'd an oar,

Let's wish him luck when iv his skiff,

An' happiness on shore;

An' may his days be lang an' glad,

An' lads, this wish is mine,

May he fiorish as the champion ov

The Thames as weel as Tyne.

AFFECTED BELLA

TEUN-" Paz's Curiosity Shop."

Noo thor's sumthin they call" Affectayshun,"

At least aw believe that's the nyem,

That's got inte the heed 0' wor Bella,

An' myed the lass nowt like the syem;

She wes once what we might call real canny,

An' homely wiv a' biv her side,

Noo she's got what they call affectayshun,

But aw think that's a new nyem for pride.

Korus.

Man, aw's frighten'd the lass is gan crazy,

Or daft tiv a sartin degree,

For she's prood, an' her heed's full 0' nonsense,

An' that she lets a' the foaks see.

The bit dress that she once wore se tidy

Wes cotton, but noo she'll not weer

Owt that dissent shine like silk or satin,

She's gawn te the divil, aw fear;

The floonsis she hes she keeps tossin,

The hoops that she weers sic a size,

An' she walks throo the streets wiv a swaggor,

As tho' she'd command ivry eye.

Ye wad think she'd forgotten Newcassil,

She mixes the dialec se,

If she only cud manidge plain Inglish,

It might for a little bit de,

She flings up her heed when she's tawkin,

As if yor attenshun she'd draw,

An' if ye give a questin that's puzzlin,

She'll gurn, an' she'll say" aw don't knau:"

Man, it's painful te hear the lass laffin,

It's nowt like a gud hearty laff,

That a chep likes te hear when he's merry,

Indulgin i' sum harmless chaff;

Ye wad think it wes greet condesenshun

Iv her te gie vent tiv a smile,

But aw's fairly teun back when she's laffin,

For ye'd say that she's chokin the while.

An' aw's sure she's forgot the gud manners

Her muther wad teach her when young.

For she whispers on nowt that's important,

An' tawks when thor's anything sung;

Ye wad think she's forgot that her fethur

Works hard for thor breed ivry day,

For she's got a' the airs ova princess;

But gie me the gud awd-fashun'd way

Ov a lass that forgets not her stayshun,

Whativor the changes may be,

Then she's sartin te gain approbashun,

ACROSTIC CORVAN

C OMIC iv iv'rything-clivcr at owt,

O v a' the professions,-stickin at nowt,

Real witty! as poet an' singer at hyem,

Versatile artiste wes Corvan's reet nyem;

A s painter, fiddler, comedian, cloon,

N ed wes the maistor ov all i' the town.

WOR GEORDY'S ALBUM

TEUN- “Pull Away Cheerily."

HERE'S wor Geordy's Album-he bowt it at Allan's,

That sells a' the beuks at the heed 0' Dean Street,

An' what It contains me intenshun's te tell ye,

An' before aw conclude ye'll give in it's a treet:

The forst it's wor Geordy wi' Peggy beside him,

They had them byeth teun when they got on the spree;

Then here's Bi!! King the Cobbler, that once wes a sowljor,

He's had his reet leg teun clean off be the knee.

Korus

So lissen, me lads, te what's i' Geordy's album,

Aw's sure it'll cause sum amusement the while,

For iv a' the queer mixtors 0' foaksis an' fyeces,

Aw's sartin ye've nivor seen owt i' this style.

The next it's John Spencer, the famous eccentric,

That sells ivrything for a penny, that's true!

He can talk aboot owt, even nowt, that's a mazer,

An' argy on onything, ainshint or new;

Then here's Billy O'Rooke,-he's a regular cawshun,

Te scrape on the fiddle an' shoot a queer sang,

But he issent half daft tho he lucks awful silly,

When he puts oot a tung aboot half a yard lang.

The next i' the beuk's Jimmy Jonsin the Barber,

That shaves a' the foaks i' Darn Crook, an' cuts hair;

Then here's Davy Davis, the Newgate Street Preacher,

That tries all he can te spoil bettin men there;

Then here's Cameron the Jockey, belangin NewcassiI,

A rider that few on the turf can excel;

The next's Jimmy Mooney, a Sweep throo the day-time,

But at neet he turns oot a real Grainger Street swell.

Here's a groop wi' Bob Chambers, an' Clasper, an' Cooper,

Three men that shud ivor be thowt on wi' pride;

An' here's game Jimmy Taylor,Jack Bright, an' Jim Percy,

Three promisin pullers, te keep up Tyneside;

The next is Tom Glenny, the clivor tragedian,

He's gain'd i' the aud an' new world greet renoon,

An' the reason aw think we shud think the mair on him

He belangs like worsels te the canny aud town.

Then here's poor Ned Corvan, the comic Tynesider,

That myed the foaks laff till thor sides wes a' sair,

Wiv his humorous sangsj-an' the next's Geordy Ridley,

Another gud fellow,-but noo thor ne mair;

The next is me awn, that aw promised wor Peggy

Te fill up a page, an it's like me ye see,

Thor issent ne mair, but the next time war Geordy

Gets any aw'll bring them an' show them te ye.

THE LANDLORD'S DOWTER

TEUN-" Matilda Baker."

Aw's one 0' the luckiest lads that's oat,

At least that's what they tell us,

An' before aw's deun, thor's nyen 'ill doot

The fortin that's befell us;

Aw's efter, aw think, the finest lass

That ivor was created,

Her fethur,-he keeps a pubilic hoose,

Se nobly she's related.

Korus

This fine-luckin lass for a queen might pass,

An' a queen aw've often thowt her,

An' aw's the lad if ye want te knaw'd,

That's en for the landlord's dowter.

Whenivor she gets an order for two

For consorts or theatre,

She sends for me an' away we gan,

Man, she's a real forst-rater;

Tho aw knaw she drinks upon the sly,

Aw waddint say owt tiv her,

For the time might cum, an' aw hope it will,

When aw can tipple wiv her.

Aw've seen when aw've laid a sixpence doon,

Aw've got change for a shillin,

An' if ivor she thinks aw's onyway dry,

Te quench me thirst she's willin;

An' aw've seen when aw've order'd half 0' rum,

She's gien us half 0' brandy,

An' aw's sartin the lass that behaves se weel

'Ill myek a wife that's handy.

Her fethur he thinks aw's up te the mark,

An' she thinks thor's nyen truer,

An' the aud man says aw'll be lanlord there

As seun as he turns brewer;

At a pawnshop, cheap, the tuther day,

The weddin ring aw bowt her;

So lads, luck oot for an open hoose,

When aw marry the lanlord's dowter.

THE BEUKMAKER!

TEUN-" The Howlin Swell."

AMID the stir upon the moor, that's roond the race-course there

Amang the crood that's i' the ring, close by the judge's chair,

Aw've tyekin notis ivry eer, a jolly reed fyec'd man,

That tyeks his place amang the thrang, an' myeks his tung keep gawn.

Kurus.

An' aw think aw hear him say,

As aw pass alang that way,

"If ye win aw's sure te pay,

Cum here, for aw's yor man!

Aw'll bet upon this race,

For a win or for a place,

So noo's yor chance te myek

A fortin if ye can!

Here ! there! what de ye want te back?

Two te one upon the field, aw'lL lay agyen the crack !"

He's what they call a beukmaker, that bets on ivry race,

An' lays agyen most ony horse te win or for a place;

He's got a caird stuck iv his hat te let ye knaw his nyem,

An' where he leeves, but on the moor lucks far mair like his hyem!

Wi' beuk an' pencil iv his hand, he marks the figors doon,

An' seems te knaw most a' the swells belangin te the toon;

He's lanlord ov a public hoose, aw dornet tell ye where,

But in or oot the ring he always acts upon the square!

He seems te be weel stockt wi' cash, at least he's nivor short,

An' lucks as tho his heart an' sowl wes center'd i' the sport;

He's bizzy a' the efterneun, as bizzy as can be,

But neet, aw's warn'd, 'ill bring sum jolly spree we cannot see!

AW WISH AW WES SUMBODY ELSE.

TEUN- "Aio Voo'd aw nivor wad Leez'e Her."

RALPH COOK stud agyen a lamp-post,

I' the street, tuther neet,

He thowt 'twes the safest retreet

Te help him te keep on his feet,

For as drunk as a man cud weel be,

There he stud, i' the mud,

His reflecshuns byeth evil an' gud,

Expressin alood i'the street,

Korus. "Throo hevin a weak risolushun,

An' spoilin a gud constitushun,

Hopeless an' weary, wi' nowt i' life cheery,

Aw wish aw wes sumbody else."

"Ay, awwish aw wes sumbody else,

So aw de, or wes free Frae the faIts that cling fastly te me,

An' myek us thor slave a' throo life,

Foraw nivor feel sober at a',

Cas aw drink, seldum think,

An' me wifehes ne munny te jink,

So at hyem, whey thor's nowt else but strife.

"Thor once wes a time-when at wark,

 Just a lad, aw wes glad,

Aw shudder'd at owt that wes bad,

But noo bad's the best aw can de,

For cumpny, the warst aw cud get,

Cross'd me way, then astray.

Aw wes led,-an' aw noo curse the day

That's browt se much sorrow te me.

"The forst glass aw had myed us burn

 For me share, then for mair,

An' hoo much eftor that diddent care

Aw drunk for the drinkmyed us dry,

Throo this aw neglected me.wark,

Got the sack, then a black

Aw tum'd, an' aw's flaid te luck back

Te the once happy days that's gyen by."

When aw heard Ralph gie vent tethese words,

Aw wes greev'd, not diseev'd,

For aw thowt 0' the time when he leev'd,

An' had the rispect ov us all,

But Ralph's risolushun wes weak,

So he fell, sad te tell,

Then lost hope i' the world an' hes-sel,

An' thus keeps bewailin his fall.

ME BONNY BRAVE BOAT ROWER

TEUN- "Martha, the Milkman's Dowter,"

ONE neet, when walkin doon the Kee,

Aw heard a yung lass singin,

The cheerful soond she sent a' roond,

Wi' voice byeth clear an' ringin,

"Me lad's away, but cum when he may,

He'll not find me cumplainin,

For hoo can he cum eftor me

The time that he's i' trainin ?"

korus.

"For he pulls se clivor on the coally river,

He's myed the Cocknies glower,

An' he says that he'll be champion yit,

Maw bonny brave boat rower ! "

"Ye shud only see him myek his boat,

Gan smoothly throo the wetter,

An' when he puts the steam full on,

Ye'll acknollidge thor's nyen better;

Besides a real gud-Iuckin fyece,

His form's byeth big an' noble,

An' he always knaws what he's aboot

Iv a skiff,a keel, or coble."

"He sweers that he'll be champion yit,

Aw hope that he'll be lucky,

But one thing always cheers me heart,

Aw knaw that he's game an' plucky,

Besides he's strang an' aw's not rang

When aw say that he's a reet un !

For like aud Harry Clasper, lads,

He nivor will be beat'n."

"Aw hope he'll mind his trainin weel,

If he dissent-that's se vexin,

For lads that winnet train a' reet

Bring nowt but sad reflecshun,

For his awn sake aw hope he will,

An' if he dis,-aw'ssartin

The one that gets i' front 0' him

'Ill hey te be a smart um '

BILLY'S TURND AN ACTOR.

TEUN-"Jack, Me Jollyly Sailor."

WOR Billy's turn'd an actor, aw hope that he'll succeed,

Tho' te leeve the wark he had, he had ne cayshun,

He says that for the futor on the stage he'll myek his breed,

Tho' his muther prophesies nowt but starvashun

She's tell'd hima' the swindles that she'sheard thor's tyekin place,

An' she sweers that on the fam'ly he'll bring nowt else but disgrace,

But still he dissent heed her, an' she cannot change his mind,

For he sayshe'll be a shinin star, or sumthink 0' that kind.

Korus.

Wor Billy's turn'd an actor, aw hope that he'll succeed,

Tho' te leeve the wark he had, he had ne cayshun;

He says that for the futor on the stage he'll myek his breed,

Tho' his muther prophesies nowt but starvashun.

His hair's byeth lang an' curly, he says he'll let it grow,

An' aw cannit tell how much sweet oil he uses,

He dresses like a tailor-tho' the cloth it issent new,

But the fashun tyeks yor eye that Billy chooses;

He talks as fine as if he'd red the dickshunary throo,

An' ye'd sweer that ivry actor on the stage wor Billy knew;

Aw've oftin thowt he'd hurt his jaws wi' hard words that he says;

He once wes shy-but noo his cheek a 'torney wad amaze

Aw've oftin seen him actin, his fyece a' painted reed,

And on his lips a pair 0' false mustashus,

That he had myed wi' burnt cork, then he'd rant an' nivor heed

His muther when she said, "Oh, divvent fash us l"

Wi' spangles On his dresses an' lang beuts like yallow clay,

He'd stamp an'shoot an' stalk aboot like Hamlit i' the play,

Then he'd tyek the poker for a sword an' fight wi' nowt at a',

An' frightin a' the folks aboot at what they heard an' saw.

Aw hope hell be successful like what he is at hyem,

An' not give wayan' join it toxycayshun,

He's nearly been teetotal, an' aw hope he'll keep the syem,

For aw knaw he'll be exposed te greet temtayshun;

An' if he gets te be a star aw hope he'll shine as clear

As ony bormy star we see high i' the sky appear,

But if he fails te myek his-sel a fortun an' a nyem,

Aw hope that he'll heh sense te cum an' seek for wark at hyem.

ME AWN ADVORTISMINT

IF ivor ye want te hear us sing

The sangs aw've wrote te please ye a',

On ivry littil hyemly thing,

Just drop a line an' let us knaw,

An' if aw heh the luck te cum,

Ye may rest assured me best aw'll de

Te myek ye laff wi' sangs 0' fun,

An' aw'll sing ye sentimental tee,

THE DIFFERENCE 0' FOAKS WHEN THOR DRUNK.

TEUN-" Homeward Bound."

I AW'LL sing ye a queerish sort ov a sang,

On a subject that ye'll say's not rang,

That's if ye think it's reet, aw mean,

For the subject's what we've oftin seen.

Korus.

That's the difference 0' foaks when thor drunk, de ye see,

 It's the difference of [oak when thor drunk.

There's Billy Main 'ill curse an' sweer,

An' fight wi' ivrybody near,

Tho' when he's sober-foaks 'ill say

He's got a lamb's awn quiet way.

Then Jimmy Moffit's as bad as Bill,

For when he gets the settlin gill

He'll argy owt-an' boast an' shoot

That he's the clivorist barber oot.

An' Sandy Campbell's just as bad,

Aw nivor saw such a filthy lad;

He blaws bad breeth upon yor cheek,

An' spits i' yor fyece when ye hear him speak.

Ned Jackson he gans mad, they say,

An' smashes owt that's iv his way;

He's sell'd the hoose offtwice aw knaw,

An' nearly kill'd his fethur-in-law.

Jack Grant 'ill let his tung gan lowse

An' tell the secrets 0' the hoose;

But, lads, thor's one thing that aw knaw,

It's bes not te get drunk at a'.

Korus.

For it myeks foaks daft when thor drunk, de ye see,

It myeks foaks feuls when thor drunk

THE LASS AW GAN WITH!

TEUN-"Cruel Mary Holder."

Aw warn'd ye hevint seen the lass aw gan with,

Ay, gan with; She's just the sort 0' lass ye'd like te gan with,

If ye had the chance like me,

But she cannet be ivrybody's sweetheart,

"What for, becas," ye'll say,

For then she waddint be me awn lass,

An' it waddint de that way,

For Lizzie's the lass aw like se weel te meet at wor street corner,

An' ivry neet me plisshur's greet beside young Lizzie Turner.

Kurus.

An' ye'll nivor see a neater, for she's kinder an' she's sweeter,

An' she's smarter an' completer, an' her bonny lucks thor greeter,

An' me sporits they get leeter ivry time aw gan an' meet her,

For thor's nyen alive can beet her,

No, thor's nyen like Liz!

Her eyes thor bonny blue, an' always shinin,

Ay, shinin, Wi' dark lashes on her cheek reclinin,

She's a pictor ye'll agree;

Ye wad varry nigh beleeve her cheeks is painted,

An' her figor's smart an' fine,

An' aw's sartin that aw wad gan demented,

If aw thowt she'd not be mine;

But she tell'd us that aw had a chance one neet at wor street corner,

An' wi' joy then aw kiss'd the sweet reed lips 0' bonny Lizzie Turner.

Thor's lots 0' lasses that a chep thinks nowt on,

Ay, nowt on, But she's the sort 0' one aw've often thowt on,

For a kind gud lass is she:

She's one that the neybors croon wi' praises,

An' that's sumthin te say;

An' me maister's gawn te raise me wages,

So luck oat for the weddin-day,

A' the lads they pass by wiv a sigh when they see us meet at war street corner,

Aw wish they may be as lucky as me wiva lass like Lizzie Turner.

IVRYBODY THINKS THOR AWN CASE THE WARST!

TEUN-"Tootle Tum Tai"

“OH,marcy," cries Mally,-“aw's bad,

Ay, aw's bad, aw've got cawd,

An' the teuth-acne 'ill seun drive us mad,

Was thor ivor such trubble as mine?

Besides, aw've got corns on me toes,

On me toes,-an' me nose

Hes a bile the full size ov a rose,

Thor wes nivor such trubble as mine!"

Korus.

It's the syem wi' foaks ivry day cryin,

I' moments that's sartinly tryin,

Whativor thor trubble, thor sure te myek't dubble,

An' sweer that thor awn case is warst!

"Oh, bliss us,"-cries Jinny,"aw'll dee,

Vis, aw'll dee, an' ye'll see

That aw's not gien te tellin a lee,

Withoot aw get new Sunday claes,

For thor issent a lass i' the toon,

l' the toon, wad walk doon

Wor street i' the aud raggy goon

Aw weer Sundays an' ivery days !"

Cries Peter-" Aw's bad wi' the cramp

l' me leg, so aw stamp,

An' aw shoot, an' aw dance, an' aw jump,

Aw'll nivor be weeltill aw's deed!"

"Gud grayshus," cries Sally,-"wor Bob's

Lost his job throo his gob,

An' since then me heart's deun nowt but throb,

An' me trubble's browt on a sair heed! "

"Oh, hinny," cries Charley, "be quick,

Yis, be quick, for aw's sick,

An' me jaw's nearly splet wi' the tic;

Aw's the unluckiest fellow ye'll meet;

Aw've gotcawd throo us weerin bad beuts,

Vis, bad beuts,-ye say huts!

But aw've got such a pain i' the guts

That aw nivor slept ony last neet ! "

CHARLEY'S RUN AWAY.

TEUN - "Little Dick."

WOR Charley's run away frae hyem,

They say he's gyen te sea;

Aw's sure we've a' been kind te him,

As kind as we cud be;

Then oh, whativor myed him d't,

What myed him gan away?

He little knaws the grief he's caws'd

Throo what he's deun the day.

He often said he'd leeve the toon,

But hoo cud we beleeve

He'd myek the hoose se wretched like,

An' cawse us a' te greeve?

Aw's sure he's nivor gien a thowt

Tiv us poor foaks at hyem,

His muther's nearly oot her heed,

His fethur's just the syem.

He's only just sixteen eers awd,

Se wild and thowtless tee,

He's been weel offan' diddent knaw'd,

What will he be at sea?

He'll miss the cumforts ov his hyem,

The cumforts thrawn away;

An' then find plenty time te rue

His heedstrang wark the day.

His muther, poor sowl, hoo she frets,

Aw's frighten'd she'll gan mad,

She lucks as if her heart wad brick

Aboot the wilful lad;

His fethur's sowt a' roond the toon,

An' miles beyond in vain,

But Charley cannet hear thor moans,

He cannet tell thor pain.

SAYS HE! SAYS AW I

OR, WHAT FOARS SAY WHEN THEY PASS I' THE STREET

TEUN- "The Sheumyeker's Dowter."

AW met wiv a chep that aw knew,

Says he-" It's a varry fine day,"

Says aw, "It is," and away he went,

An' away aw went on me way;

Aw met him agyen that varry neet,

Says he, "It's a varry fine neet,"

Says aw "It is," an' he says" It is,"

An' says aw te me-sel "wor reet."

Korus.

It's sumthing rich te hear foaks talk,

It's a real amusin treat,

Te think 0' words ye hear exchanged

When walkin throo the street.

Says aw tiv a lass-" Hoo are ye?"

"Ne better for ye," says she. Says aw,

"God help ye, yor ne warse,

So ye needint fall oot wi' me;"

Says she, "Aw can de what aw like,"

Says aw, "Of course ye can,"

Says she, "Yor nowt but a igorint man,"

When aw axt her where she wes gawn.

Aw spoke tiv a chep that aw knew,

At the tuther side 0' the street,

An' aw's certain that he answer'd me,

As if we cud hear a' reet.

Says aw tiv a chep, "Hoo are ye? "

Says he te me-" Hoo are ye?"

An' away he went wiv a mind content,

Tho he got ne answer frae me !

What grand informashun ye get

Wi' these words pass'd i' the street;

For if ye get an answer at a',

Yor awn varry words they'll repeat;

It's just like a chep gien y' a gill,

An' ye te pay for the next,

For then yor neether in nor oot,

An' yor mind's not the least perplext,

THE FIGHT ABOOT A LAD!

TEUN- "The Geuse Fair."

TOM BALMBRA carted Bella Tate,

An' Bella corted him,

She thowt a vast aboot the lad,

For he wes smart an' trim;

But Tom wes eftor Susey Boyd,

When Bella wes away;

He went wi' BeiIa ivry neet,

An' Susey throo the day.

Until-one day, an awful seet

Fill'd Bella wi' surprise,

'Twes Tom an' Susey airm in airm,

Before her jillis eyes,

But she diddent fight wi' him,

Tho wi' rage her eyes wes dim,

She pickt upon poor Susey,

Becas Susey went wi' him.

Says Bella-"Tyek yor airm frae his,

Or else it's warse for ye,

What de ye mean wi' gan wi' him?

Ye knaw he gans wi' me!"

But Susey did'nt knaw he did,

Or diddent want te knaw;

Says she te Bella-"Gan away!

Let's heh nyen 0' yor jaw!

Him gan wi' ye ?-aw think aw see'd.!

What cud he see at ye?

Yor not fit (if aw'd let ye did),

Te wipe the shoes 0' me!

He's always gyen wi' me,

An' that aw'lllet ye see,

The hardest job ye ivor had's

Te tyek me lad frae me!"

Says Bella-" YE keep him frae ME,

Yor short pug-nose aw'll ring;

Aw'll teer yor eyes oot 0' yor heed,

Ye dirty impiddint thing! "

Says Susey-" Tried on if ye dor !

Tried on,-aw'Il myek ye pay;

If ye lay a sing'll hand on me,

Aw'll summins ye the day:

Ye reed-hair'd slut,-YE hammer ME,

Aw'd like te see ye try!"

But scaircely had she said these words,

When Bella black'd her eye,

An' she begun te cry.

The lad wes stannin by,

Until he saw the fight begin,

Then he hook't it on the sly.

Th' reckly Susan got the blow,

Her hands like win'mills went;

She bit and swore,-

Bell scratch'd and tore,

Thor rage cud get ne vent,

Until they'd pull'd thor goons te rags,

 An' tore thor hats te bits,

An' clawted byeth thor toppins weeI,

 But neether wad cry "quits,"

'Till byeth teuk't.i' thor heeds te faint,

Then they war led away,

Detarmin'd they wad heh revenge

Upon sum future day.

Mind it was awful bad Te fight about such a lad;

For aw think the best thing they cud deun,

Wes te start an' clawt the lad.

DOLLY'S LOWSE PEDDIKIT

TEUN-" She Danced like a Fairy."

AW'LL tell ye a lark if ye lissen te me,

Ye may think it's a lee, but it issint ye'll see,

It's all aboot Dolly, if ye want te knaw whe,

She's as canny a lass as can be.

She wes cummin doon Wesgit on Thursday neet last,

Wiv a swagger that teuk ivry eye,

When she fund that her peddikits wassint a' fast,

Ay, an' one lowse, an' doon varry nigh.

Korus.

So lasses, tyek care when yor oot i' dayleet,

Iv a walk throo the street, heh yor claes fassin'd reet;

Or else, like poor Dolly, ye'll gie foaks a treat,

That ye'll really not fancy yor-sel!

She tried te.pull'd up, wiv a shuffle an' squeeze,

But she thowt she wad freeze, when her sweetheart she sees,

Cummin walkin alang frev his wark at his ease,

Nivor dreamin his Dolly te tease.

He stopt an' sheuk hands, luckin pleased te see Doll,

But she wassint se pleased te see him;

She stammer'd until she wes close te the wall,

An' wi' vexashun there she stud prim.

The foaks luckt an' lafft at poor Dolly, as she,

As perplext as cud be, diddint knaw what te de;

The peddikit ower her shoes they cud see,

An' she diddint knaw hoo te get free.

For Dolly, poor thing, she wes frighten'd te move,

An' her lad wes se happy te see

She'd gien him a chance te say sweet words 0' luv,

But she wish'd away frev him te be.

At last a greet shoot myed him opin his eyes,

An' then luck wi' supprise, when poor Dolly wi' sighs,

Stoopt doon te the grund, wi' such heart-broken cries,

The peddikit noo doon te rise.

Her lad was dumfoondid when Dolly ron off

Wi' the peddikit under her shawl,

An' the foaks roar'd an' lafft-but thor jokes turn'd te scoff,

When they saw the lad run off an' all.