MARY
sulks an' Mary grummils,
Mary
turns her heed away,
Mary
cannet beer us funnin,
So aw
think aw'll stop away,
It's
Hannah's Sunday oot, an'
Hannah
Likes a joke as weel as me,
Aw'd
seuner gan a mile wi' Hannah,
Then hey
a walk wi' Mary three!
Fareweel
Mary, prood an' distint,
Aw'll not
plague ye,-if aw gan,
If yor
time shud cum te marry,
Aw hope
aw maynit be yor man;
For if aw
had a wife bad-temper'd,
She'd
spoil mine, an' myek mine bad,
So
gud-bye, hinny,-for aw's gannin,
Ye'll
mebbies get anuther lad!
TEUN- "
Farewell, my Jumbaree. "
Aw had te
meet young Mally once,
Aw'll not
forget that neet;
She
promised tiv us faithfully
Te be i'
Grainger Street.
"She wad
meet us near the Monniment,"
Te me she
whisp'rin' said;
But, oh !
that disappointment
Such
misery convey'd.
Korus.
But, oh
dear! Mally diddent cum!
She kept
us waitin' there se lang,
Heart-broken-c-aw
wes
glum;
For it's
an awful disappointment
When yor
sweetheart dissent cum!
Aw went
roond be the Market,
But Mally
wassent there;
Throo
Newgate Street an' Blackett Street,
Aw
wander'd full 0' care;
Then went
back te the Monniment,
But still
aw cuddent see
The
sweetheart that had promised
To meet
us faithfully.
Northumberland
Street,
an' Percy Street,
Aw
stagger'd wildly throo,
The
breezes frae the Moor Edge
Cud
nivvor cool me broo,
Forfever-heat-iv
ivry
street
Ne Mally
aw cud see:
Aw went
back to the Monniment
Increasin'
misery.
l' Grey
Street, an' i' Grainger Street,
For three
lang oors or mair,
Me eyes
obscured wi' grief an' gloom,
Greet
sorrow for me share,
At last,
aw myed me way back hyem,
But there
aw cuddent sleep,
For oh !
aw nivvor thowt that Mall
Her
promise waddent keep.
TEUN-
"The Mistletoe Bough."
I' THIS
world 0' disepshun-how oftin ye'll find
Thor's
foaks that 'ill myek ye believe that yor
blind,
An'
bother yor senses wi' fine words an' dress,
That yor
sure at the finish wi' me te confess
Ye loss
yor persepshun, an' imadjin that they
Are the
best-hearted sowls ye cud meet iv a day,
Until
they de sumthing ye nivvor conceived,
Then ye
find to yor sorrow yor really diseev'd.
An' this
is hoo foaks is diseev'd,
Ay, this
is hoo foaksis diseev'd !
Nan Wood
had a bairn, an' the wummin next door
Declared
that thor wassent its like iv a score;
She said
it Wasborn te turn oat something greet,
But it
dee'd shortly efter it saw the day-leet.
Bob
Harrison followed a fine-luckin lass,
An' thowt
wi' the best i' the toon she might pass;
They
korted,-then pairted, tho foaks sworethey'd
wed,
An' he
wassint the only young chep she misled.
An' this
is hoo foaks is diseev'd
Ay, this
is hoo foaks is diseev'd.
Jack
Nicholson seem'd i' the world te de weel,
Drest up
really tip-top frae heed te the heel;-
The
neybors luckt at him wi' envious eyes
Until
sell'd offfor debt-then judge thor surprise;
An' hoo
often ye'll find cases just like the syem,
Where
thor's plenty abroad an' a famine at hyem,
To keep
up appearance, ye wad hardly believed,
Sum
divvent care hoo-an' that's hoo yor
diseev'd.
An' this
is hoo foaks is diseev'd,
Ay, this
ishoo foaks is diseev'd.
Kit Jones
had a mate that he thowt weshis frind,
But the
frind that he trusted proov'd false i' the
end,
He rob'd
him, then left him te pull throo his-sel,
An' a
hundrid .mair cases like this aw cud tell.
Hoo often
ye'll find a face cuver'd wi' smiles
Hide a
heart, that's se bad, yit still oftin
beguiles;
Appearance
is nowt i' this wide world believ'd,
Or ye'd
nivvor find [oaks that's se often diseev'd.
An' this
is hoo foaks is diseev'd
Ay, this
is hoo foaks is diseev'd!
.
TEUN - "Aw wish yor
Fethur wes here."
YE may tawk aboot yor
greet contests,
An' sum ye'll tyek as a
joke,
But the contest that aw
like the best,
Is the one that ends i'
smoke;
Thor's Sinclair, the
greet baccy man,
Gein prizes away for se
lang,
That aw thowt if aw
tried te cullor a pipe,
Aw cuddent se weel get
rang.
Korus.
So aw smoked an' aw
puff'd away,
Two oonsis myest ivry
day,
An' aw thowt aw wes
wise,
Te gan in for the prize,
An' carried slap bang
reet away!
Aw went an' aw bowt the
Renforth pipe,
An' Young Joe Cowen's as
weel,
The Rodger Titchborne
blaw'd us oot,
An' the gripes aw used
te feel;
Then Joe Wilson's pipe
wes the next,
But that myed us often
se bad,
The foaks a' declared aw
wes tryin te black
The eyes 0' the
Gallowgate Lad!
Thor's many a time when
aw haud the bairn,
Aw wish'd its muther wad
cum,
But she often myed a
rowan the stairs,
For she'd tawk 0' the
awful sum
It cost for the baccy
each week.
Says aw, "Whey, ye
needint care,
If wi' the grosseries ye
gan an' buy'd,
Ye mun give us that for
me share!"
Says aw, "If ye divvent
smoke yor-sel,
Ye can buy a pennorth 0'
snuff!"
Says she, "If ye mean te
pick yor cod
Wi' me, aw'll gie ye the
huff,
Noo hoo mony pipes heh
ye broke
Wi' tryin te just cullor
one?
Wi' yor shag an' twist,
if aw gie ye me fist,
Ye'll see what a prize
aw've wun!"
As aw nivvor like te
fight wi' the wife,
Aw smoked an' aw puff'd
away,
An' when the greet
contest com off,
Aw got the forst prize
that day
Then gud luck te
Sinclair, aw say,
An' me wife aw say tee
as weel,
For when aw wun, i' the
street she danced
Biv her-sel a grand
threesum reel !
.
AIR "Sally Lee."
YE Tyneside lads that's
fond 0' sport,
Cum lissen unte me,
Aw'll sing 0' men byeth
gud an' true,
Such as ye'll seldum
see:
Aquatic sport's the
forst 0' sport,
It's champeins ye'll
agree
Cawse sensayshuns that
ne uther
I' the world canivor de.
Korns.
An' its gan on, Bob, lad
i-a puller grand is he,
An' Taylor as a trainer,
his like ye'll seldum see,
Besides thor byeth gud
oarsmen,
An' when such two
combine,
Where will ye find a
pair te beat
Wor champeins on the
Tyne.
Jimmy Taylor's won mair
matches
Then many a champein's
deun,
l' skiffs, or pairs, or
fower-oars,
He's nearly always wun;
He's browt mair champein
oarsmen oat
Then ony iver did,
His gen'ralship licks a'
the world,
An' whe hes a chance
wid?
Byeth England an'
America
Knaw Jimmy Taylor weel;
As Renforth an' Tom
Winship's mate
He'd always bravely
peel;
Ay, an' noo he's .got
Bob Bagnall,
A canny quiet lad,
Like aud "Honest
Bob,"-detarmin'd,
He's not easy te be had.
Bob Bagnall's willin for
the world
Te try thor strength wi'
him,
An' he'll always be
supported biv
His frind an' trainer,
Jim; An' when the
champeinship cums off,
Aw hope we'll not
repine,
But find young Bob, THE
HERO,
Hailin frae the Coaly
Tyne.
TEUN- "It's time te get
up."
JIM CARR wes only a poor
man's son,
But a happy lad wes he,
He pass'd the days iv
his patched-up claes,
Wiv a heart byeth leet
an' free;
Ne trouble te cawse a
moment's pain,
An' as blithe as he cud
be,
He'd laffan' sing-"Aw
wish a' the world·
Wes only as happy as
me!"
The time flew by, an' he
went te wark,
An' the forst change
there he knew,
Wi' hearty will he
displayed his skill,
An' a tidy workman grew;
He wes seun
forst-class,-wi' honest pride,
An' a fyece lit up wi'
glee,
He'd sing at wark-"Aw
wish a' the world
Wes only as happy as
me!"
Frev a man te maister
noo he turn'd,
An' a brisk gud trade
had he,
The orders poor'd in at
iv'ry side,
Ay, far mair then he cud
de;
An' frinds com roond him
wi' open hands,
At least "thor a'
frinds," thowt he,
An' gladly sung-" Aw
wish a' the world
Wes only as lucky as
met"
But swindlers com roond
as weel as frinds,
An' a bankrupt seun he
turn'd,
Cast off be them that
profess'd the most,
Ay, neglected, robb'd,
an' spurn'd;
He lay i' jail, wiv a
doon-cast heart,
An' he wish'd that he
wes free,
An' sung-" Iv a
two-fyeced world like this,
Is thor not one true
{rind te me!"
At last relieved frev
his weary cage,
As journeyman he begun,
Gud fortun once mair
clung tiv his side,
An' maister he wes seun;
The mair he myed-the
mair trade he got,
Till independent was he,
An'
then he sung-" Aw wish a' the world
Knew just only as much
as me!"
"When aw diddent need a
single frind,
Aw had plenty then,"
said he,
"But when aw did i' me
hard-up times,
Not a one com up te me,
Aw'Illuck te me-sel, tho
a selfish man
Aw divvent intend te be,
An' still sing on-Aw
wish a! the world
May nivor de warse than
met"
(FOONDID
ON FAX.)
TEUN-
"Sal and Methusalam."
N00 iv a'
the sprees that ivor ye saw,
Or ivor
ye heard aboot,
Thor's
one aw's sure that licks them a',
An' tyeks
thor shine clean oot;
Three
cobblers that aw's ackwented with,
One
Monday left thor wark,
An' iv a
weel-knawn public-hoose,
They
kick'd up such a lark.
Korus
An' such
a spree, whey, ye'll seldum see,
Where
ivor ye may be,
For iv a'
queer sprees, nebody sees
Owt like
a cobblers' spree.
Thor
funds wes thrippince-hap'ney, just,
The whole
0' what they'd got,
A pint
was ordered-then browt in,
An'
thrippince paid the shot;
A hap'ney
noo wes a' they had left,
What cud
they for a smoke de?
But ye
wad lafft te seen a happorth
0' baeey
sarve the three!
The pint
wes drunk-they wanted mair,
So one
wad sell his hat,
An'
sixpence for the kadey teuk,
An' then
they spent the sprat;
As a mark
0' luv tiv his UNCLE,
A
chep's coat wes kindly sent,
Then two
bob, like the sprat before,
Like
leetnin com an' went.
But not
content,-they wanted mair,
So one, a
queer aud man,
Wad tyek
his troosers off, an' let
Them heh
them oot te pawn;
For want
ov anuther pair, the sarvint's
Peddickit
he put on,
"Whe's a
Heelander noo?" says he,
"Bedad,
an' it's me that's one!
Time wore
on, an' the cobblers' wives
Thinkin
thor men oot late,
They a'
set off te the WAX-ENDINN,
Wi' minds
myed up te wait,
The chep
that had the peddickit on,
Te pieces
wes nearly torn,
An' when
the wives agreed te stop,
They kept
up the spree till morn.
TEUN-
"Sal and Methusalam."
N00 iv a'
the sprees that ivor ye saw,
Or ivor
ye heard aboot,
Thor's
one aw's sure that licks them a',
An' tyeks
thor shine clean oot;
Three
cobblers that aw's ackwented with,
One
Monday left thor wark,
An' iv a
weel-knawn public-hoose,
They
kick'd up such a lark.
Korus
An' such
a spree, whey, ye'll seldum see,
Where
ivor ye may be,
For iv a'
queer sprees, nebody sees
Owt like
a cobblers' spree.
Thor
funds wes thrippince-hap'ney, just,
The whole
0' what they'd got,
A pint
was ordered-then browt in,
An'
thrippince paid the shot;
A hap'ney
noo wes a' they had left,
What cud
they for a smoke de?
But ye
wad lafft te seen a happorth
0' baeey
sarve the three!
The pint
wes drunk-they wanted mair,
So one
wad sell his hat,
An'
sixpence for the kadey teuk,
An' then
they spent the sprat;
As a mark
0' luv tiv his UNCLE,
A
chep's coat wes kindly sent,
Then two
bob, like the sprat before,
Like
leetnin com an' went.
But not
content,-they wanted mair,
So one, a
queer aud man,
Wad tyek
his troosers off, an' let
Them heh
them oot te pawn;
For want
ov anuther pair, the sarvint's
Peddickit
he put on,
"Whe's a
Heelander noo?" says he,
"Bedad,
an' it's me that's one!
Time wore
on, an' the cobblers' wives
Thinkin
thor men oot late,
They a'
set off te the WAX-ENDINN,
Wi' minds
myed up te wait,
The chep
that had the peddickit on,
Te pieces
wes nearly torn,
An' when
the wives agreed te stop,
They kept
up the spree till morn.
TEUN-" The Upper Ten."
THE Sandgate lass is as
canny a lass
As ivor a body can see,
Ye'll hey heard us sing
0' her before,
For they call her Sally
Lee;
An' the Gyetside lad
he's a reglor brick,
He's a forgeman at
Hawks's noo,
An' lang he's followed
the Sandgate lass,
As a couple thor's nyen
mair true.
Korus.
An' the Sandgate lass
an' the Gyetside lad's
As happy a pair as thor
can be had,
An' the foaks i' byeth
cities 'ill be se glad
When they see them get
married next Monday.
Says Sally te Bill, wiv
a sigh, tuther day,
"We hevint as yit got a
hoose,"
Says he, "We'v,e byeth a
hoose 0' wor awn,
An' whativor wad be the
use 0' thinkin
0' that when it's noo
the time
That us two shud be myed
one?
Ye can cum te wors an'
aw'll cum te yors,
So consider the job it's
deun!"
"But, Bill, if we shud
hey ony bairns,"
Says she, "then what cud
we de?"
Says he, "Ye can stop
wi' yor muther,
An' aw'll cum an' stop
wi' ye!"
Says she, "But, Bill,
that wad nivvor de,
Aw's sure it wad lower
ye doon,
For when clear 0'
strife, each man an' wife
Shud byeth leeve i' one
toon."
Says he, "Then is
Sandgate not the syem
As Gyetside when yor
Bill's there ?"
Says she, "It's just the
syem te wor-sels,
So ye think we needint
care;
But oh, the neybors 'ill
say such things,
Aw wadn't like ye for te
knaw,
An' if ye'll not myek us
a real wife,
Aw'll not get married at
a'!"
Says Bill,-an' then he
wiped his eyes,'
"Aw wes just for fun
tryin' ye,
Whey, aw've got byeth
hoose an' furnitor,
As grand as ony can be,
When Gyetside an' yor
city unites,
It'll put Ii the world
at peace,
An' we'll myek't wor aim
for hyem an' fame,
A fine cross-breed tiv
increase!"
AIR-"The Fyerey Clock
Fyece."
OR, hinny, heh ye seen
wor Jack,
Oh, hinny, heh ye seen
him?
Ye knaw that he's a
reglor black,
So divvent attempt te
screen him;
A few weeks since, the
silly feul,
Drew all his brass an'
got se full,
He lost it a', the
slaverin cull,
An' what de ye think 0'
Jack's luck?
A pollis copt him on his
beat,
That knew his clivor
swagger,
Wi' mony a push frae
left te reet,
Jack seun began te
stagger;
An' twenty shillins he
had te pay,
An' when they did let
him away,
He got far warse that
vary day,
An' what de ye think 0'
Jack's luck?
The next day he went te
the Moor,
Te back a chep at
boolin,
An' what aw say's quite
true, aws sure,
His bad luck still kept
rulin ;
He went an' he laid
agyen the crack,
But the crack wes ower
much for Jack,
An' the bool knockt him
fiat on his back,
An' what de ye think 0'
Jack's luck?
He went te Gyetside
Borough Grund,
Te back a flyin' runner,
For sum grand clivor tip
he'd fund,
An' swore it wes a
stunner;
But the vary chep he
backt te win
Wes last ova' when they
com in,
Jack lost his watch
besides his tin,
An' what de ye think 0'
Jack's luck?
He went an' sell'd his
furnitor,
Te try an' bring back
losses,
Awoften wundor hoo he
dor
Defy se many crosses;
He backt a horse te win
a·race,
But like his luck-this
wes the case,
It tummil'd doon, an'
lost last place,
An' what de ye think 0'
Jack's luck?
The last grand bet he
myed, an' he
Can give us ne denial,
He laid a quid a week
wad de
Te finish the Titchborne
trial;
Noo Jack at nowt 'ill
ivor stick,
For the way he says
he'll de the trick,
Whativor he gets he'll
hey on tick,
An' what de ye think 0'
Jack's luck?
Wiv anuther se ready or
handy,
So he thowt he wad just
try the beuk trav'lin dodge,
An' myek money, an' seun
be a dandy;
So he got a big stock
frev an agent he knew,
The finest ov ivry
edishun,
Then he drest his-sel up
iv his best Sunday claes,
An' set off on his wark,
on commishun.
He reckond for sartin
that myest ov his frinds
Wad give him a greet
thumpin order,
For he'd got a
collecshun thor fancies te suit,
Byeth the Life 0'
Christ, Hist'ry, an' Murder;
But sum had ne
money,-an' sum had mair sense
Then te tyek in a beuk
wi' ne endin,
Not even wi' them foaks
that nivvor pay owt,
Cud Bob myek a bissiniss
extendin.
So he went tiv a village
not far frae the toon,
Thinks he, "Aw'll be
successful yit, man,"
An' the forst time he
open'd his parcel o' beuks
Wes i' the hoose ov a
canny aud pitman;
He show'd them the
pictors te dazzle thor eyes,
An' then tawk'd aboot
hist'ry an' hivvin,
But when he had
finish'd, the pitman gov thenks
For the sarmin Bob
gratis had given.
Then he tried a new tack
i' the varry next hoose,
Siclowpeedees noo got
Bob's greet praises,
But a gud templor says,
"Sic low pee dee's tawk here,
Me man, aw can tell ye
'ill raise us!"
"Next week," says
anuther, "ye can bring us Bell's Life,
Or the
Sportsman ye may bring us one day,
For them's the two
papers aw only tyek in,
An' aw care for nowt
else on a Sunday!"
The next hoose he call'd
at, nebody cud reed,
An' the bairns nearly
spoil'd a' his pietors,
Bob put them away wiv a
sad, heavy heart,
An' cursed all his
gud-fortun predictors; Says he,
"A job like this wants
plenty 0' cheek,
An' for that, whey, just
noo aw's not wishin,
But before aw start next
aw'Il heh wages put doon,
An' a salary besides a
commishun!"
AIR.-"Kiss me Quick."
THE bellman wes sent
roond the toon,
Te let foaks hear his
voice
Annoonce that Mooney,
King 0' Sweeps,
That day wad wed his
choice;
An' ivrybody clapt thor
hands,
An' myed the whole toon
ring
Wi' joy,-but still aw
thowt aw heard
The Sweep's intended
sing:
Korus.
De ye think aw'lI blush
for bag an' brush,
If ye de, whey, yor a
spooney;
Luv's voos aw'll keep
true te me sweep,
Gud luck te me an'
Mooney!
The morn wes wet, still
croods flockt roond
The hoose that held the
pair,
An' cabs an' cairts
afore the door,
Myed a' the peepil
stare,
Wi' sweeps drest up like
lords se grand,
An' "happy as a king,"
The bridegroom's man
struck up the teun
The fair bride liked te
sing
De ye think, etc.
At last te church the
jolly crood,
As hearty led the way,
An' such a scene wes
nivvor seen
Be priest like that that
day;
The foaks wad tawk far
mair nor him,
When he put on the ring,
An' little held the
marry thrang
l' church that day te
sing
De ye think, etc.
At last at hyem amang
wor-sels,
Jim Kane wad playa teun,
An' then Jim Renforth
sung a sang,
An' then the fun begun;
For Mooney an' his canny
wife's
Gud happiness te bring,
We drunk thor hilths a
hundrid times,
Besides we'd often sing
De ye think, etc.
We left them just as
happy as
We'd met them i' the
morn,
An' hoped we'd find them
just the syem,
Whenivor we'd return.
But time's gyen by, an'
noo a bairn
Te the happy pair'll
cling,
Wi' dad an' mammy biv
its side,
It often hears them sing
De ye think, etc.
AIR-" The Sezoi«
Masheen."
Two little bairns sat on
a law door-step,
A little bit lad an' a
lass,
An' the little lass
cried wiv a heart-broken cry,
That aw cuddent for a'
the world pass,
When aw heard her say
wiv a sob an' a sigh,
An' a fyece full 0'
sorrow te see,
"Oh, Johnny, me fethur
an' muther's falI'n oat,
An' it's seldum aw see
them agree."
Korus.
"Ye waddent act badly te
me?
No, ye waddent act badly
te me,
What gud wad it de te ye
or te me?
Ye waddent act badly te
me?"
"They've fittin a'
day,-de ye hear the noise
0' thor tungs an' thor
hands at war?
Aw's flaid te gan in
when thor at it se bad,
An' away aw'd be ivor se
far;
But away frae them cud
aw find ony joy?
No! no! aw wad
mis'ribbil be,
For still thor me fethur
an' muther the syem,
An' aw wish they cud
only agree."
"What a queer thing
foaks shud fite i' that way,
When they've leev'd
tegither for eers,
Ye wad think they wad
fill a' the hoose wi' smiles,
I'steed 0' se mony sad
tears;
Can ye think that foaks
grown up shud fall oot?
When little bairns like
us agree,
An' oh, Johnny, lad, cud
we ivor fall oot?
Ye wad nivvor act badly
te me?"
"Oh, Meggie, me lass,"
says the little bit lad,
"De ye think we cud ivor
heh words?
Tho me fethur an' muther
'ill quarrel like yors,
Aw'm sorry te see thor
discords;
But oh, Meggie lass, if
we leeve te grow up,
An' man an' wife ivor
shud be,
Aw's sartin ye'll nivvor
vex me wi' yor tung,
An' aw waddent act badly
te ye!"
Aw've thowt 0' that neet
when aw heard this crack,
Since then mony a eer's
gyen by,
Thor byeth grown up an'
wed, but the life they leed
It's the syem weary
story an' cry;
For examples they've
seen i' the days lang past,
Myeks them that they can
nivvor agree,
Wi' the words that they
utter'd completely forgot,
"Oh, ye waddent act
badly te me! "
TEUN-"Peg's Trip te
Tynemouth."
CUM lissen, a' me merry
men,
Te what ye'll just hear
noo an' then,
It licks nine cases oot
o' ten,
He knew a widow smart
an' neat,
That had a beer-hoose
'lang the street;
So ivry neet when on his
beat,
A
frindly call myed Bobby, O.
He thowt sum day he'd
lanlord be,
An' actwilly he myed se
free,
Efter closin time he'd
hey a spree,
An' thowt he did it nab
by, 0;
For spungin he thowt he
wes reet,
An' liked it better then
his beat,
He thowt if he proposed
one neet,
She'd not refuse her
Bobby, O.
But lang had she a
sweetheart had,
A jolly Jack tar wes her
lad,
He thowt it waddent be
se bad
Te spoil the Bobby's
hobby, 0;
So one neet iv his
sailor's claes,
He goh the Bobby ivry
praise
An' mair drink than he'd
had for days,
It stupefied poor Bobby,
O.
When Bob got drunk Jack
got him doon,
Then changed thor claes
se varry seun,
He bravely marched reet
roond the toon
Wiv his prisoner, Bobby,
0!
He laid him at the
Stayshun door,
Where Bobby seun begun
te snore,
It myed anuther Bobby
roar
"Here's a drunken
sailor, nobby, 0!
He teuk him up,-then
teuk him in,
Where Bobby pleaded for
his sin,
The time the sailor went
te win
The widow, Bobby's
hobby, 0;
The sailor's case wes
fairly wun,
The widow quite injoyed
the fun,
But Bobby noo wes quite
undeun,
He wes ne mair
a Bobby, O!
TEUN- "I
comeFrom sweet Killarney."
SAYS
Peg, "Maw Jim's a canny lad,
As canny
as can be,
An'
thor's not a porter pokeman
Says owt
else on the Kee ;
He works
as hard as ony man,
An'
spends his brass as free:
Aw
cuddent like anuther lad,
He thinks
se much 0' me.
Korus.
He's a
nobby porter pokeman on the Keeside,
An' frae
Blaydon reet doon te the sea-side,
Thor's
not one that's better spoken
Then me
canny porter pokeman,
An' he's
just the sort 0' lad te follow me.
He
carries loads wad brik the back
Ov ony
uther man,
An' mony
a time he briks a heed
He nail'd
me uncle Dan
For sayin
that he wassent gud
Eneuff te
marry me,
Becawse
aw've kept an oringe stall
Se lang
upon the Kee.
They say
he's ower fond 0' Nell
That
sells the fish doon by ;
A' they
sweer that at sum barmaid
He
alwayswinks his eye;
But if
the barmaid fancies him,
He'd
nivvor want his beer,
For aw
knaw if he's ivor short,
Aw always
find him here.
Thor's
not a couple that ye see
Can dance
like him an' me,
We knockt
about a duzzin ower
One neet
at Thomson's tea;
He likes
his gill, an' so div aw,
An' when
wor on the spree,
Aw'd like
te see a duzzin try
Te knock
doon him an' me.
Aw'd like
te see him marry me,
If not
it's just the syem,
Aw
waddent fall oot wiv him
If he
diddent change me nyern;
As lang
as he'sel dissent change,
He's gud
eneuff for me,
Nebody
hes owt te de wid,
Maw
pride's upon the Kee."
TEUN-
"Says aw, says he."
BILL
HADDOCK he got se awful drunk,
His wife
she lockt him in,
Says she
tiv hor-sel,
"He'll
get ne mair yell,
An' for
once he mun put in the pin."
Bill
Haddock he fell fast asleep,
Before
she had left the door,
An' i'
dreams he thowt the best thing he cud de,
Wes te
hey a jolly gud snore.
Korus.
It's a
clivor thing for a wummin te de,
Te lock
her gud man in,
An' gan
away i' glee an' hey a jolly spree,
An' spend
the whole 0' the tin.
When she
fund him asleep she went away,
An' she
got as drunk as him,
Says she,
" Aw've a reet for a fuddle the neet,
So fill
us a glass te thebrim!"
An' she
thowt hor-sel se varry safe,
A
pickpocket close at hand,
Got
haudov her key as a bit ova spree,
An' myed
her the whole drops stand.
But she
fund it wesgettin ower late,
So
she thowt it wes best te gan
Tiv
her awn gud hyem for the sake of her nyem,
An' lie
wiv her awn gud man.
But when
she got up te the door,
She fund
the key wes gyen,
So she
gov a greet knock, nivvor mind what o'clock,
It wes
time te be in bed then.
Oot the
windowhe popt his greet heed,
Says he,
"What de ye want there?"
Says she,
"Aw'm here, an' aw've been on the beer,
So cum
doon or aw'll pull yor hair!" Says he,
"If ye
hevint the key,
Ye can
just stop there where ye are,
For aw've
got nyen, so ye had better gan hyem
Te yor
muther's, an' that's not far."
Says she,
"Ye greet unfeelin brute,
De ye
mean te keep us here cawd?
If ye'll
not let us in aw'll kick up a din,
An' the
foaks 'ill declare yor mad!"
Says he,
"Will ye not let us oot?
For aw
hevint the key inside;
Ye can
gan te the divvil, if yor not varry civil,
An' when
ye get there, there bide!"
As stupid
as she was, there an' then
She went
an' borrow'd a key,
An'
open'd the door, an' knockt him on the
floor,
An' said,
"De ye think that 'ill de? "
But he
gov her back such a smack
On the
nose wiv an aud baccy chow,
An' the
story it shows be the smack on her nose,
Drunken
couples thor in for a row!
A POOR
aud wife, iv a lonely room,
Sits biv
hor-sel i' the darknin gloom;
I' the
grate thor's just the faintest spark
Te
frighten away the dreary dark.
There she
sits till she totters te bed,
An' mony
a day this life she's led;
Withoot a
frind te cum near te speak,
She's
starvin on fifteen-pence a week.
The
parish allows her half-a-croon !
Half-a-croon
i' this fiorishin toon !
Fifteen-pence
she
pays for the rent,
Hoo is
the fifteen left te be spent?
Wi'
prayer she welcums the mornin's leet;
Welcums
the leet, tho' it bringsne meat;
Welcums
the leet 0' the mornin gray,
Te sit
biv hor-sel the lang weary day:
Tho'
wishin her awn poor life away,
She
clings tid still while she hes te stay;
For, oh,
she knaws that she dissent disarve
Te finish
her days like this-te starve!
An'
ninety eers, if she leeves te see,
In a few
short munths her age 'ill be;
Withoot a
frind i; the world te say"
Canny aud
wife, hoo are ye the day? "
Can ye
compare this case te yor-sel?
An' bring
te mind what aw cannet tell,
Yor daily
wants that ye daily seek,
Supplied
on the fifteen-pence a week.
Is this
not eneuff te myek ye fear
Yor-sel
an' bairns when yor end draws near?
Hopeless,
helpless, she's not te complain,
But pine
away in hunger an' pain.
Wad she
iver dream that she'd leeve te see
An'
poverty feel hard as it can be?
Thor's
nowt te nourish, or nowt that cheers,
Her poor
aud sowl i' declinin eers.
Wimmen 0'
charity! Men 0' sense!
Hoo can
she spend her fifteen-pence?
Can she
afford te buy a bit coal
Te warm
her hands, an' her heart console?
Hoo can
she get what she stands i' need
Wi'
hardly eneuff te buy her breed?
Oot 0'
the poor-rates heavy they seek,
She's
starvin on fifteen-pence a week.
The
parish allows her half-a-croon!
Half-a-croon
i' this florishin toon!
Fifteen-pence
she
pays for the rent,
Hoo is
the fifteen left te be spent?
[Mrs. E.,
the subject of the above verses, during the
latter end of 1873,
was
unfortunately run over near Earl Grey's
Monument, having her leg
broke
through the accident, which renders the poor
old woman doubly helpless.]
A
RECITATION FOR GROCERS AND PROVISION DEALERS
AT morn,
when frae yor bed ye rise,
Ye shrug
yor shoolders, rub yor eyes;
What d'ye
want te calm, refresh?
Wi' soap
a gud an' hearty wesh;
Then
ready for yor mornin's feast,
A cup 0'
coffee warms the breest :
For soap
an' coffee aw excel
Aw'm
startin business for me-sel,
At noon,
when frae yor daily toil
Yor freed
te dine-the pot i'boil
Wi'
broth, at hyem, yor heart 'ill cheer,
Gud
dinners myek the hoose mair dear,
But
broth, withoot thor's plenty peas
An'
barley i' them, seldum please;
For
barley, peas,-green, whole, an' splet,
Cum te
maw shop, the best ye'll get. .
Then Time
flees on wi' 'lectric wings
Till
tea-time, hoosehold cumfort brings;
Each
happygroop sits doon te tea,
A
plissent, hyemly seet te see;
But
plissent chat seun turns abuse
Withoot
thor's sugar in the hoose;
For
sugar-lump an' soft, wi' tea,
Thor's
nyen keeps half as gud as me.
Then
supper-time cums roond at last,
Aw wish
'twes here-aw cannet fast;
Wi' tea
or coffee, nowt can beat
A slice
0' bacon, gud an' sweet;
A piece
0' cheese might de as weel,
Content
wi' either ye wad feel;
Just try
maw shop, it's sure te please,
Maw
bacon's what ye call the cheese.
What is't
ye aw se often need?
What is't
that myeks the best 0' breed?
The Staff
0' Life, ye'Il guess, aw'ssure,
Wad
nivvor been withoot gud floor;
But
breed, like ivry other thing,
Needs
butter, so its praise aw'll sing:
For floor
an' butter-salt an' sweet,
Aw sell
the best iv any street.
Then
Sunday cums-wi' frinds te tea,
When
spice-kyeks fiorish, weel-te-de;
When
corns an' raisins, floor an' lard,
Share
i'the hoosewife's kind regard;
The
finest raisins, lard, an' corns,
An' a',
the weel-fill'dhoose adorns;
Aw nivvor
brag-but gud an' cheap,
The parry
best on orth aw keep.
IN
JENEWARRY,aw wes bad:
The snaw
an' sleet had gien us cawd.
In
FEBREWARRY, i' the fog,
Tom
Purvis com an' stole me dog.
In
MAIRCR, aw went an' booled Jack Kidd,
An' tried
te loss-but cuddent did.
In
YEPRIL, aw wes bad wi' pains,
Browt on
throo drink an' heavy rains.
In MAY,
te bet aw did begin,
An' backt
a horse that diddent win.
In JUNE,
aw had ne better fate,
Aw backt
the last un i' the" Plate."
IN JVLY,
at the West End Park,
Aw danced
a polka-what a lark!
IN
AWGUST, aw'd te stor me shins,
Wor Peg
was put te bed wi' twins.
SEPTEMBER
com :-aw got the sack,
Throo
fuddlin wi' me Unkil Jack.
OCTOBER:-
I' one mornin dark,
Aw'm sad
te say, aw started wark.
NOVEMBER
myed me hands quite hard,
Aw broke
styens i' the prison yard.
DISSEMBOR
browt us oot 0' there;
Aw'll
'nivvor strike a Bobby mair.
TEUN-"Trust
to
Luck."
MEGGIE
LEE, Meggie Lee,
Yor as
mean as can be,
Tho yor
kind te yor-sel,
Yor ne
gud wife te me.
Aw nivvor
imagined
Ye'd turn
oot a springe,
Such a
miserly body,
A
rnis'rable whinge.
Aw've had
coffee for brickfist,
Me
dinner, an' tea;
An' the
hard-hearted crust's
Gien the
teuth-ake te me.
Meggie
Lee, Meggie Lee,
Will me
wages not sarve
Ye te
leeve weel yor-sel,
Withoot
myekin me starve?
Meggie
Lee, Meggie Lee,
Yor as
mean as can be,
Tho yor
kind te yor-sel,
Yor ne
gud wife te me.
Meggie
Lee, Meggie Lee,
Heh ye
myed it a rule
For me
aud pocket-hanksher
Te sarve
for a tool?
Then me
shart's nivvor wesh'd,
An' me
stockins all holes,
An' the
sheets on the bed's
Just as
black as sma' coals,
Ye once
blackt me beuts
But ye
nivvor mair need,
For ye
polished them byeth
An' the
grate wi' black-leed,
Meggie
Lee, Meggie Lee,
Then me
baccy's ne joke,
If a
happorth aw chow,
It sarves
twice for a smoke.
Meggie
Lee, Meggie Lee,
Yor as
mean as can be,
Tho yor
kind te yor-sel,
Yor ne
gud wife te me.
Meggie
Lee, Meggie Lee,
De ye
mind 0' the day,
When,
wearied wi' wark,
Aw se
soond asleep lay?
An' the
time aw wes sleepin,
Ye
greesed a' me mooth,
Till
quite famished aw waken'd
Wi'
hunger an' drooth:
Awaxt for
me dinner,
An' ye
said, "Ye greet loon!
Whey, yor
gob proves ye had it
Afore ye
lay doon!"
Meggie
Lee, Meggie Lee,
Gies ne
mair 0' yor brags,
For ye
knaw that the bairn's
Half-starved
an i' rags.
Meggie
Lee, Meggie Lee,
Yor as
mean as can be,
Tho' yor
kind te yor-sel,
Yor ne
gud wife te me.
TEUN-"
Pull away Cheerily."
THOR'S
sum men that's born te be weel celebrated,
An' aud
Tommy Williamson fairly licks a';
Thor's
nyen se renoon'd as the Weather Predictor,
He beats
all eccentrics that ivor aw saw.
Aw've
seen him drest up wiv a hat an' a band on't
A reed,
white, an' blue, that wad dazzle yor eyes;
At
pic-nics, or owt that 'ill cawse a
sensashun,
Aw've
thawt he wes king 0' the foaks that's se
wise.
Korus.
Thor's
sum men that's born te be wee! celebrated,
But aud
Tommy Williamson fairly licks a';
Thor's
nyen se renoon'd as the Weather Predictor,
He beats
all eccentrics that ivor aw saw.
His
mem'ry wad baffle the best 0' gud scholars,
He nivvor
forgets brickfist, dinner, an' tea,
An' wi'
the lang brush he's a stunner at danein,
Besides a
fine singer, an' fond ov a spree;
Ye'll see
half-a-column sumtimes i' the papers,
Where he
tells ye what days 'ill be wet an' what dry,
An' for
gein ye the gud ov such grand informashun,
The
Willington Prophet ye'll nivvor find shy.
He wrote
his awn hist'ry te please his ackwentinse,
An' tells
ye that Norton wes where he wes born,
He's been
a man-sarvint tiv a' kinds 0' farmers,
His
adventors sum lybory beuk wad adorn ;
He
menshuns what kortships he's had iv his
lifetime,
An' tells
ye what fine-luckin lasses he's had;
But wiv
all his greet fancy for Jenny an' Nancy,
He says
that his Sarah wes pick 0' the squad.
But
Sarah's departed, an' left Tommy wifeless,
He langs
for anuther te fill up her place;
But
Tommy, i' kortin's, knawn nowt but
misfortin,
Yor
sympathy give tiv his pitiful case;
He's
knawn what it is te be completely jilted,
Wiv a'
his greet knowledge he knew less then sum;
For he'd
nivvor heh thowt ov agyen gettin married,
If he cud
hey prophesied what wes te cum.
Aw've
often heard mentioned, but mind it's a
secret,
That the
foaks j' the coonty intend for te raise
A
moniment grand te the mem'ry 0' Tommy,
When he's
deed, just as fine an' as high as Earl
Grey's;
But lang
may he leeve, lang may we see Tommy,
May he
nivvor knaw what a storm is at hyem;
If he
marries agyen, may they myek plenty
prophets,
An' leeve
a young Tommy te keep gud his nyem
TEUN-"
The Happy Land of Erin."
AW'M
myest settled noo for life,
For aw'm
gawn te tyek a wife,
An' her
fethur's gawn te giv his bisniss tiv her;
He's
independent noo,
He's as
rich as any Jew,
Throo the
keuk shop that he manages se clivvor.
Korus
Her
fethur keeps a keuk shop;
An' monya
lad aw knaw
Te win me
Mary's hand they've often sowt her;
But aw'Il
use the knife an' fork
Te byeth
mutton, beef, an' pork,
Like the
aud man, when aw wed his canny dowter.
Iv'ry day
at twelve o'clock,
Ye shud
only see them flock
Roond the
coonter, for the canny man te sarve them;
Frae the
joints that's smokin het,
If a
smell ye only get,
It 'ill
please yor eyes an' nose te see him carve
them.
Ye shud
see them feast thor eyes
On the
soop, the meat, an' pies,
For such
hungry-Iuckin customers surraand him;
But he's
ower wide awake
Te myek
any greet mistake,
His
aud-fashin'd fyece 'ill show they'll not
confoond him.
He's seun
gawn te retire
Frae the
keuk shop an' its fire,
Aw'll
succeed him,-an' ne better cud be sowt for;
A fortin
noo he's myed,
So his
dowter gets the trade,
An' it's
a sartinty it's me that gets the dowter.
The
mysteries ov the pies
An' the
sassages aw'll prize,
Aw heh ne
call te tell the neybors what we trade on;
"Where
ignorance is bliss"
Informashun
brings
distress,
So it's
best for folks te knaw nowt what thor made
on.
TEUN-"
The Fiery Clock-Fyece."
"CUM,
hinny, divvent stop an' talk,
But try
for once te please us,
An' wi'
yor lad just hey a walk
Te the
Park that's on the Leazes;
Cum,
howay, show yoi bonny goon,
An' there
ye'll see the greetest boon
That's
ivor been gein te the toonIt's the
Park
that's on the Leazes.
Korus
"Then
howay, hinny, cum away,
It's
a treat that's safe te please us;
Wor sure
te spend a happy day
I' the
Park that's on the Leazes.
"Such
happy couples there ye'll see,
Drest i'
the hight ov fashun,
Wi'
sparklin eyes, like ye an'me,
Lit up
wi' true luv's pashun;
In
hundrids they'll aroond ye pass,
'Mang
trees an' fiooers, and real green grass,
Where
lass seeks lad, an' lad seeks lass,
l' the
Park that's on the Leazes;
"Besides,
ye'll see the bonny lake
Iv all
its grand completeness,
Where
sportive ducks yor eye 'ill tyek,
An'
sparrows chirp wi' sweetness;
Where
ivrything's se weeIlaid oot:
The
Island, an' all roond aboot;
Where
Sunday claes cum frae the' spoot'
Te the
Park that's on the Leazes,
"Thor's
seats an' shelter for us tee,
Eneuff te
rest the mony,
Where aud
foaks there may sit an' see
Young
generashuns bonny;
Where
married foaks can meet thor frinds;
Where
oot-door plissure here extends;
Where
pride an' dress thor half-day spends
I' the
Park that's on the Leazes.
"Noo,
them that call'd it 'Hamond's Pond'
I'll
wundor at the pictor,
Shut up
they mun for bein fond,
Or else
aw's ne predictor:
For seun
the park'ill spreed se wide
That
ivryone can boast wi' pride
Ne toon
can beat war awn Tyneside
An' the
Park that's on the Leazes."
A
RECITASHUN
ONE
neet beside the fire aw wes sittin, camly
smokin,
Dreamin
nearly ivrything, an' nowt porticklor,
tee;
Me eyes
fell on the pictors that wes hingin close
abuv us,
An'
awcuddent help reflectin on the changes
that we see.
A
likeness 0' me muther's cussin seemed te
dare inspection,
Wiv its
glarin, gawdy eullors that cud only bring
te mind
Me
attempts at myekin pictors when at scheul,
nowt but a laddy,
Aw wes
always spoilin paper wi'just paintins 0'
that kind.
They
called this thing a portrait that wes
hingin there se brazend!
Awetter-cullor'd
work
ovairtl-aw lafft the mairawsaw'd.
Thinks
aw, whey,yor a fashun that 'illnivvor mair
be wanted,
An'
aw'll nivvor hey anuther beauty like ye if
aw knaw'd.
Next me
eyes fell on a pietor (aw caned pictor for
a bynyem!)
Awwundor'd
whe had ivor teun the trubbil for te
framed.
It was
meant for Bill, me unkil, at least, so
Aunt Bessy tell'd us;
"Then
he mun heh been a blacky, aunt!" aw
laffinly exclaimed.
For
whereivor aw cud see the likeness iv a
black piece 0' paper
Clagg'd
ona bit 0' pyest-board, an' stuck up agyen
the wall,
Aw cud
nivvor yet imadgin, tho, mind, not for
want 0' tryin;
Thinks
aw, if Bill's a beauty, te see'd here the
chance is small.
An'
they called this thing a portraitl-'twes
hingin there se black-like, .
Luckin
like a paltry plaything, an' not even
worth the nyem:
For its
reet nyem's "Imposition," myed te catch
greenhorns that fancy
They
can trace a faint risemblance where ne
likeness hes a hyem.
Next me
eyes fell on a portrait byethweel worth
the name an' notis,
An' it
seemed te knaw the place it held, te shem
them biv its side;
It myed
us bliss Photography, that wonderful
invention,
For the
pictor wes eneuff'te filla fellow's breest
wi'pride.
Then
the likeness wes se bonny, an' se strikin,
an' se lifelike,
Whey,
in fact, 'twes just the model 0' me canny
sweetheart Nan!
Aw cud
fancy her beside us, an' cud nearly think
her speakin,
An' me
heart beat high te think sum dayaw'd be
her awn gudman!
Aw mind
the day that it wes teun, aw thowt a'
wimmin simple,
Except
i' hoosehold duties, where thor always
quite at hyem:
She
teuk an oor te get her hair put up in
proper order,
An'
blushed when she went i'the place as if
she thowt a shem.
The
artist tell'd her just te luck at one
place for a minnit,
But she
niver teuk her eyes awayfrae that spot
a'the time;
She
kept them there while he wes dein sumthing
i' the cupboard,
Where
photographic artists work thor mysteries
sublime.
When it
was seen, Nan's eyes wes starin like two
cheeny sawsors;
He
tried anuther, when she had two
heedsinsteed 0' one;
She
squinted i'the next un ; an'the chep
wesfairlybothered.
Says
he, "If ye'll keep still, in half-a-minnit
aw'll be deun."
At last
she did keep stiddy.an'her bonny eyes they
glissen'd
When
she saw the pictor finished that's se
varry dear te me;
But
seun aw'll hev its marrow in the hoose,
alive, beside us,
An'
aw'll bliss the happy pictor that thor's
sartin for te be.
AS SUNG
BY THE AUTHOR IN THE MUSIC HALLS
TEUN-"
Babylon is Falling."
l' THE
bloom 0' life he left us,
Wi'
thowts 0' nowt.but vict'ry,
He
cross'd the greet Atlantic wiv his crew;
Nivvor
dreamin 0' misfortin,
Till
Deeth's dreed visitation
Struck
helpless the grand fellow that we knew.
Korus
Gyen frae
the hyern we knaw he liked ee weel!
Gyen frae
the frinds that held him ivor dear!
We've
lost poor Jimmy Renforth,
The
Champein ov all Champeins,
The hero
of all rivers, far an' near.
Wiva crew
byeth brave an' manly,
The
frinds that he had fancied,
He
started on a journey myed te pain,
An' bring
sorrow, sad an' weary,
Te hearts
that least expected
They'd
hear a bard gie vent i' mournful strain.
Gyen frae
the hyem, etc.
Oh! Jim,
what myed ye leave us?
What myed
ye leave the Tyneside
Te meet
yor deeth se sadly, far away?
An'
hearts wes fairly broken,
Te hear
thor gallant Champein,
l' Harry
Kelley's airms, se lifeless lay.
Gyen frae
the hyem, etc.
Ye cruel
Atlantic Cable,
What
fearful news ye browt us,
What
different tidings we expected here;
Till
dismay'd an' affected,
We heard
a fearful whisper
Run throo
the toon like leetnin, far an' near.
Gyen frae
the hyem, etc.
CHAMPEIN
OF THE WEAR.
TEUN-"
Aull sing
ye a Tyneside Sang."
IN
Sunderland let's sing,
What
shud myek the whole hoose ring,
It's
a sang that's sartin a' the lads te cheer,
For
it gladdens ivry toon,
When
thor natives gain renoon,
An'
aw'll sing ov one that's deun se on the
Wear.
Kurus
An'
oh, me lads, it myeks me heart se glad,
Te
sing ye a sang te please ye here,
Then,
give a hearty cheer For the Champein of the
Wear,
Ay,
a hearty cheer for Aleck on the Wear.
Thor's
not one that's pull'd an oa,
Iv
his day, or yit before,
That
wes better liked then Aleck Hogarth here,
For
he's one amang the few,
That's
been always game an' true,
An'
strite forward, hes the Champein of the
Wear.
Then
he's foremost i' the brave,
When
thor's ivor lives te save,
An'
thor's mony a hoose this day'd been sad an'
drear,
If
it haddent been for him,
When
for life an' deeth he'd swim,
An'
the bravery he display'd upon the Wear:
He's
a canny quiet man,
An'
it's always been his plan,
As
an honest one, te pull throo his career,
An'
thor's nyen ye can select
That's
disarvin mair respect
Than
brave Aleck Hogarth, Champein of the Wear.
TEUN- “Mally Dunn."
"WHAT'S kept ye oot se
lang, me lass?
What's kept ye i' the
street?
Aw saw ye tawkin te Nan
Broon,
Aw thowt ye'd stop a'
neet,
Aw warn'd she's tell'd
ye a' the news,
For gossip gies her
life;
Sit doon, an' let's hear
what she said,
She's such a tawky wife!
"
Korus
For Nanny Broon knaws a'
the toon,
The neybors' joy an'
strife,
She knaws far better
then tbor-sels:
She's such a queer aud
wife.
"Whey, man, she says
that Geordey Hall's
Gyen sairly te the bad;
An' Mistress Thompsin's
dowter Meg's
Gawn daft aboot her lad;
An' Harry Hedley's gyen
te sea;
An' Tommy's oot on
strike;
An' Betty, te get
married's teun
A man she dissent like.
"She says Mall Johnson's
left her place,
She thinks she's got the
bag;
An' Kelly's Sunday's
dinner wes
A paltry bit 0' scrag;
An' Fanny Nelson's
furnitor's
Been sell'd te pay the
rent;
An' Mistress Bradley's
eldest son
Last week te jail wes
sent.
"She says thor wes
anuther row
In Pilgrim Street last
week;
An' Geordey Bell's a
nice young chep
If it wassent for his
cheek;
Bell Wilkey's gawn te be
confined:
Her sweetheart's ron
away,
An' sweers the young un
issent his,
An' he's not gawn te
pay.
"She says Meg Dunn's got
married, an'
lt issent ower seun;
l' few weeks' time she's
bund te hey
A dowter or a son.
Her muther wes the syem
way held
Before young Peg wes
born;
It's only reet her
dowter shud
In
trubble tyek her turn.
II She says it's time
the world shud end,
When it's se full 0'
sin;
An' Peggy Wood wad sell
her sowl
For half-a-pint 0' gin.
Hoo Janey Todd can get
such dress
Few ladies cud afford,
Nan says she winnet even
guess,
Or iver say a word."
TEUN-"The
Whole Hog or None."
FAREWEEL,
maw kind Newcassel frinds, aw's gannin far
away,
Aw's gan
te leeve the canny toon, an' prood am aw te
say
Aw've
myed me fortun i' the hoose where ye've
spent meny a neet,
Aw's gan
te turn professor an' a teacher tee
complete.
Korus
Bruther
fiddlers a', like me, rnyek lots 0' money,
Aw's
gannin doon te Sheels,
Te teach
an' play cudreels,
An' aw'll
let them see the tallint thor cums frae the
canny toon.
Fareweel,
maw country patrons, for ne mair ye'll hear
us play
"0,
Nanny, wilt thou gan wi' me?" wi' canny"
Auld Robin Gray;"
Ne mair
ye'll hear the "BIue Bells" soond, that
often pleased ye weel,
Or
imadgin that i' "Com Rigs" hoo delighted ye
wad feel.
Fareweel,
maw cat-gutscrapin frinds, awhevint time te
stay,
As the
minnits are departin fast, play seconds
while ye may;
Ye'l!
miss yor leader, lang wi' me yor tallents
ye've display'd,
An' bonny
teuns an' pleasin' soonds tiv eager ears
convey'd.
Solos se
high aw've often play'd an' charm'd ye wiv
each note,
But if ye
want te hear us still, cum doon i' train or
boat,
An' there
ye'll see the young foaks dance, as teacher
aw'll appear,
An'
fiddlin thraw me legs aboot like harlekinse
queer.
Fareweel,
me frinds, hoo sad awfeel te say the last
gud-bye,
Hoo often
when aw Ieeve ye ye'll imadgin that yor dry,
An' aw'll
not be near te cheer ye wi' beer, an' jigs,
an' reels;
But lads,
aw'll often think 0' ye when aw gan doon te
Sheels.
TEUN-
“The Pawnshop Bleezin."
I' THESE
days hoo can poor foaks leeve?
Increasin
popilayshun
Myeks
hundrids wundar where they'll get
A humble
habitayshun;
They
nivvor build for poor foaks noo,
Withoot
the rent's a reglor screw;
Iv a' the
wearyj obs aw knaw,
The
greatest plague amang them a'
Is seekin
for a hoose, man.
War Peg
an' me, one mornin' seun,
Te better
war condishun,
Set
off,wi' spirits high wi' hope,
Upon this
expedishun.
Iv a' the
windows, Peg, maw pet,
Teuk ivry
paper for a "Let":
Byeth
"Ginger Pop" an' "Home-made Breed"
Wes all
as one-she cuddent read,
When
seekin for a hoose, man.
Says one,
"Ye'd better call agyen!
Ye'd
better see the maister !"
So throo
the street, till he arrived,
Content
we had te slaister ;
He stared
at us when he earn in,
Says he,
"Are ye byeth clear 0' sin,
If so,
aw'll gie ye the forst chance
Wi' pay'n
a fortneet in advance! "
Says aw,
"Huts, keep yor hoose, man!"
“Excuse
us, wor not clean'd up yit!"
Says one
fat wummin tiv us,
"Aw've
got a splendid room te let
Up
stairs, so cum up wiv us!".
She teuk
us up the stairs se high,
'Twes a
real "garret near the sky,"
"The
rent's five shillins here a week,"
She said,
an' snuff'd an' blew her beak;
Says aw,
"It's not wor hoose, then!"
Anuther
axt if we had bairns,
Says aw,
"We've had iIliven,
But sad
te say, thor's fower deed,
An' noo
thor's only siven!"
Says she,
"We'll not heh children here!"
Says aw,
"Yor sum aud maid, aw fear,
Aw wundor
whe on orth got ye?
Where did
ye spend yor infancy?
Ye'll gie
the bairns ne hoose, then!"
Sum
places ye mun gan in seun,
An' not
stop oot at neet, man,
In
uthers ye dor hardly speak,
Ye cannet
de owt reet, man;
For
little rooms rents high 'ill be,
Withoot a
back-yard fit te see;
We've
trail'd aboot for mony a day,
But
cannet get for luv or pay,
A decent
sort ov hoose, man.
TEUN-"Miller
of tke Dee."
"MIND
waken us up at five o'clock,
For aw
munnet miss the train,
Aw'm not
used wi' gettin up se seun!"
Says Jack
tiv his gudwife Jane.
"It
starts at six, so let's off te bed,
For we
hevint se lang te sleep;
So waken
us, Jane, te catch the train,
Tho aw
snore byeth lood an' deep,
An' aw'm
ivor se soond asleep! "
They got
inte bed an' seun fell asleep,
Where
Jack quite injoyed his dreams,
Till a
scratchfrae her big toe-nailmyed him jump"
It's
half-past five! " she screams.
He struck
a match te luck at the clock;
"It
issent se late!-aw knew
It
wassent owt like half-past five,
For it's
only half-past two,
An' yor
puttin us all iv a stew! "
Jack
grummil'd as he got inte bed,
But seun
fell asleep agyen;
At
half-past three anuther greet kick
Showed
Jane waddent let him alyen.
He cursed
an' swore when he saw the time,
An' he
held the leet te show,
But the
only answer that he got,
Wes
"John, ye've upset the po,
And you
know that you shouldn't do so."
At fower
dclock Jack wakened he'sel,
But his
wife lay fast asleep; Says he,
"Then aw
may as weel sit up;
Wi' me
pipe, aw'll waken keep!"
At
half-past ite she jumpt oot 0' bed,
When she
had gud cawse te stare,
For there
Jack sat, iv his Sunday's claes,
Fast
asleep i' the aud airm-chair,
Catchin
trains iv his dreams sleepin there.
TEUN-"
The Coal Hole"
IF deed
foaks com te life agyen,
Hoo funny
it wad be, man;
They'd
rub thor eyes wi' greet surprise
Te see
what we can see, man.
Grainger
wad hardly knaw the toon,
Wi'
buildin up an' pullin doon:
A palace
they myek ivry ruin,
They
astonish live foaks, tee, man.
Korus.
Fal-the-dal-lal,
the
lal-the day,
Hoo funny
it wad be, man,
If deed
foaks com te life agyen,
Te see
what we can see, man.
Geordey
Stephenson, the ingineer,
Wad heh
gud cawse for wundor,
Te see
the railroads far an' near,
Abuv the
grund an' under;
Earl Grey
wad luck up te the sky,
Te see
his moniment se high,
Thor gan
te shift it by-an-by,
He wad
say, "What next, aw wundor?"
Sum wad
find falt wi' a' they saw,
An' try
wi' spite te raise us,
An' tell
us that wor a' se fast,
They'd
seun meet us in blazes!
While
uthers wad be glad te see
A workin
man dim up the tree,
Like
Burt, the pitmen myed M.P.,
An'
disarvin wor greet praises.
Bob
Chambers an' Jim Renforth tee.
Wad ask
us war we beatin ?
Had
Cockneys gain'd all victory
Throo
just one man defeatin ?
Renforth
wad say, "Is Tyneside men
Te let
Joe Sadler rest alyen?
It's time
aw wes alive agyen,
If ye
cannet find a reet un !"
But sum
wad better be away,
Such as a
chep just barried,
He
waddent like te cum an' see
His
bloomin widow married;
He
waddent like te see the kiss
Ov
second-hand connubial bliss,
He
waddent like a scene like this,
Ay, an'
him just lately barried.
If deed
foaks com te life agyen,
Thor'd be
an awful mixtor,
Thor'd be
ne room te had them a',
We'd a'
be fairly fixt; for
We'd
nearly a' relations be.
We
cuddent tell owt whe wes whe,
Thor'd
seun be blud an' murder tee,
An' we'd
myek them cut thor sticks, sor,
TEUN-"
Pat Mulloy."
Iv
a' the torments i' the world,
A
neybor's warse then a',
That
borrows things frae day te day,
An'
dissent care a straw
Whether
ye get them back or not,
If it
just pleases them;
Thor not
aflaid te ask for mair,
They
nivvor knaw ne shem.
We've got
a neybor 0' this kind,
She'll
cum an' borrow cIaes,
Or pots,
or pans, an' kettles, an'
She'll
keep the syem for days.
If we
invite a frind te dine,
We hardly
get a smell,
Till in
she cums te borrow this
Or that,
dis Neybor Nell.
Me dowter
hes a nice young man,
An' seun
they'll married be,
So often
he cums te the hoose
Te hey a
cup 0' tea;
He's
always se polite an' prim,
Relidgis
iv his ways,
Porticklor
what he sees or hears,
An'
careful what he says;
But still
worneybor dissent care,
Shud he
be oot or in,
She'll
cum an' beg three-happence, te
Get
half-a-glass 0' gin;
Aw've
seen him quite disgusted like,
His
brou's byeth rose an' fell,
Te hear
the neybor, " Len us this,
Or that!"
frae Neybor Nell.
One day
we'd all got sittin doon,
As
use-yil te wor tea,
When in
cums Neybor Nell quite bowld,
An'
brasen'd as cud be ;
Says she,
"Excuse me cumrmin in,
Sum
cumpany aw've got,
Thor
wimmin foaks;-aw'd be obliged
Ifye'd
len us the pot !
She
haddent time te say which pot
It wes
she wanted, till
Up jumpt
me dowter's sweetheart, an'
The tea
things myed a spill;
Me dowter
blush'd, her young man froon'd,
Aw felt
greet shem me-sel,
An'
wish'd aw had ne neybor like
That
torment, Neybor Nell.
TEUN-"He's
gyen
te be a Bobby."
Aw'M
really quite unsartin
0' which
luver aw shud choose,
For aw
cannet nyem me choice yit,
An' aw
dorsent one refuse;
But wi'
sum evasive answer
Put them
off frae day te day,
For aw
cannet tell me fancy,
Thor's se
mony in me way.
Korus
For
thor's Tommy, an' thor's Billy,
Nearly
drive a young lass silly,
They
really cum se freely
Wi' thor
offers iv'ry day;
An'
thor's Charley, Joe, an' Harry,
Always
wantin me te marry,
What
myeks us tarry,
l' this
daft unsartin way?
Thor's
Tommy, tall an' sprightly,
An' as
handsome as can be,
A myest
weel-te-de pawnbroker,
An' he's
pledged his luv te me;
Then
thor's Billy,-that's the sailor,
He wants
me te be his mate,
He wad
plough the salt sea ocean,
Te be in
the United State.
Then
thor's Charley, he's a sowljor,
But aw
cannet list te him,
Thowts 0'
war an' his bright medals
l' me
eyes grow varry dim;
An'
thor's Joe, the portrait-tyeker,
Built in
such a slender frame,
Aw'll
give te him a negative,
Hopin
that may quench his flame.
Then
sumtimes aw fancy Harry,
Roo it is
aw cannet tell :
He's a
draper,-quite the dandy,
But aw
divvent like a swell;
What wi'
one, an' wi' the tuther,
Aw can
nivvor find delight,
Till aw
meet sum happy fellow,
Wi' the
nyem 0' Mister Right !
JENERWARY
IN
Mosley
Street, i' the eer ite-teen,
Gas
lamps wes
for the forst time seen.
Lally,
the
boat-rower, strang an'soond,
l'
sivinty-fower, at Blyth, wes droon'd.
FEBREWARY
Cowen
an'
Hamond, at last at ease,
l'
sivinty-fower, wes myed M.P.'s.
Burt,
for
Morpeth, teuk things quiet,
l'
Durham thor
wes nowt but riot.
MAIRCH.
l'
fifty-fower,
aud "Beeswing" deed,
She
wassent a
horse, but had mare speed.
l'
sivinty-three, quite lost te hope,
Mary
Ann Cotton
wes join'd te rope.
YEPRIL.
I'
forty-fower,
wi' minds alike,
The
Pitmen had
thor famous Strike.
I'one
bonny
neet, i' fifty-nine,
Chambers
beat
White on the Coaly Tyne
MAY.
l'
thorty-six a'
the bairns wes fear'd,
When
the Bobbies
forst i' blue appear'd.
Kelly
beat
Chambers, i' sixty-sivin,
When
Bob wes
pullin fast te hivvin.
JOON.
I'
sixty-ire,
Bob Chambers deed,
Deeth
beat him
wiv untimely speed.
The
High Level
Bridge, i' forty-nine,
Wes
myed
complete across the Tyne.
JEWLY.
l'
sixty-one, iv
a deedly swoon,
Grainger
bid
gud-bye te the toon.
Harry
Clasper,
wi' mony a sob,
l'
sivinty,
folIow'd his aud frind Bob.
AWGUST.
On the
Toon
Moor, thousands went te see
Mark
Sherwood
hung, i' forty-three;
Ned
Corvan wi'
fun kept foaks alive,
But he
dee'd
he'sel, i' sixty-five.
SIPTEMBOR.
Dan
O'Connell, ov greet renoon,
l'
thorty-five,
com te wor toon.
I'
thorty-ite,
te save life, se brave,
Grace
Darling
dared the tretch'rous wave.
OCTOBER.
The
moniment
that we se often view,
TeStephenson,
finish'd
i' sixty-two.
Mark
Frater got
his fatal mark
l'
sixty-one,
'twes a point frae Clark.
NOVEMBER.
co
Jemmy
Allan's" pipes wes short
0'
breeth l'ten,
they had ne chance wi' deeth.
l'
forty-one, an
eventful mom,
Me
bruther Tom
an' me wes born.
DlSEMBOR.
The
steamer" Lifeguard," i' sixty-three,
Wi' all
on board
wes lest at sea.
l'
fifty-three,
Billy Purvis, eloon,
I' rest
his
queer aud heed laid doon.
A TRUE
STORY
ON
March the
tenth, in forty-six,
Bill
Cleghorn
had te fight
Wi'
Michael
Riley, on Blyth Links,
For
fifty at
catch-wight.
Mick's
bruther,
Barney, thrice had dreamt
That he
wad
konker'd be,
That
Cleghorn's
blows wad fatal prove,
Throo
which poor
Mick wad dee.
An'
Barney sair
wes put aboot,
For
superstishus, he
Believed
in
dreams, an' fear'd the end
Ov
this, his
warnins three,
He
tried te myek
his bruther give
The
forfeit up
te Bill,
But
Mick replied,
"Wor gawn te fight,
We are
not
match'd te killl"
"Then
Barney, cum, an' see me lick
The
champein 0'
Tyneside,
Aw'll
win the
fight withoot a mark,
See hoo
aw'll
tan his hide!"
" It's
not
the likes 0' Cleghorn that
Can
tyek a Riley doon;
So
nivvor mind
yor feulish dreams, .
Aw'm
best man i'
the toonl"
The
mornin com,
an' hundrids there,
Te see
the
battle, cheer'd,
When
two such
men 0' fistic fame,
Stript
te the
buff, appear'd.
Bill
Cleghorn
stud byeth firm an' calm,
True
confidence
display'd;
An'
Riley's
smiles an' boondless chaff
Show'd
he wes
not aflaid.
For two
lang
oors 'twes give an' tyek,
Wi'
strite an'
heavy blows,
That
fell upon
the ribs an' fyece,
The
cheeks, the
eyes, an' nose.
Then
Riley fund
his easy job
Wes noo
nowt
like a joke,
Wi'
jeers an'
puttin oot his tung
He
tried Bill te
provoke.
But
Cleghorn
nivvor off his guard,
Watch'd
Riley's
tung cum throo,
Then
struck him
fiercely on the chin,
An'
chopt it
clean in two.
The
fight wes
ended.-Cleghorn wun.
Next
mornin Mick
wes deed,
An'there
he lay
a batter'd corpse,
Wi'
Barney at
his heed.
Poor
Barney's
dream com ower true, Said he,
"Aw'm
not
te blame,
Aw
warn'd him,
but aw'm glad te knaw
Me
brother Mick
died game!
An'
this wes i'
the gud aud days,
When
men wad
proodly sing,
An'
lift thor
voices high an' praise
The
heroes ov
the ring.
But tho
the
ring's for iver deun,
I'
these
new-fashun'd days,
Thor's
murder
always in the air,
In lots
0'
different ways.
TEUN-"'John
Anderson,
my Jo."
Aw
meant te buy
a chist 0' drawers,
Besides
a silver
watch;
A sofa
grand, te
mense the hoose,
Wi'
bonny chairs
te match;
Besides
a new
leet suit 0' claes,
Te
swagger i'
the sun,
Aw'd
been new te
the very beuts,
If
Spennithorne
had wun.
Aw
meant te buy
me wife a dress,
Ov silk
the
varry best,
She'd
been like
a fat lanlady,
The way
aw'd had
her drest;
We
meant te
lodge at Tinmuth till
The
money wes a'
deun ;
An'
promenade
the Sands each day,
If
Spennithorne
had wun.
But
Spennithorne
wes nearly last,
An'
Lily Agnes
wun,
The
cheers 0'
winners diddent soond
Te me
like ony
fun;
Aw
cannet tell
hoo aw got hyem,
The
moor aboot
us spun,
Aw
started wark
next day, an' sigh'd-sIf
Spennithorne
had
wun !
TEUN-"The
Pawnshop
Bleezin."
WOR
Geordey,
just the tuther day,
Wes
walkin up
an' doon, man,
An'
what amused
him myest ova'
Wes
bills stuck
roond the toon, man,
Advisin
foaks te
gan an' see
These
Twins they
call the Syimeese;
He's
read thor
hist'ry iv a beuk,
An'
swears that
wundor nivvor struck
Rim
half se much
afore, man.
He says
this
freak 0' nator is
Thor
join'd se
fast tegither,
Wiv a
lump 0'
grissel hard an' tight,
Thor
siporashun's nivor;
They
call one
Bob, the tuther Jim,
An'
Jim's like
Bob, an' Bob's like him,
An' if
one wants
te stop at hyem,
The
tuther hes
te de the syem,
He
cannot de owt
else, man.
He says
when
young, that Bob wes wild,
An'
liked te hey
his glasses,
An' led
a kind
0' rakish life
Amang
a' kinds
0' lasses;
But
Jim, he
waddint hed at a',
He said
te Bob,
"Aw'lliet
ye
knaw
If ye
want te
lead this life, me lad,
Ye can
gan
yor-sel, aw'll not be had,
Aw'll
brik the
string that ties us."
But
Geordey says
he dursent did,
For
fear he hurt
he'sel, man,
Since
then thor
kind a settled doon,
For on
thor
life's a spell, man;
Shud
they fall
oot an'hev a fight,
Thor's
neethor
hes the best 0' wight,
An' if
they
russel, byeth gan doon,
An'
when they
hit the blaw reboons,
The
striker
feels the blaw, man.
He says
thor
married an' got bairns,
He
wunders hoo
it's deun, man,
But i'
this
world thor's things se queer,
Sum
reckind nowt
but fun, man !
An' if
Bob wants
te say his prayers,
An'
Jimmy wants
te gan doonstairs,
Bob hes
te wait
till Jim gets deun,
An' if
Jim's gan
te kiss his sun,
Bob hes
te boo
his heed, man.
But
gox! hoo
funny it wad be,
The
time that
they war kortin,
For if
the lass
fell oot wi' Jim,
Bob's
feelings
she'd be hurtin,
An' if
he
whisper'd iv her ear,
The
tuther one
was sure te hear;
An'
when Bob
tyeks an openin dose,
It
fissicks
Jimmy aw suppose,
An'
that's a
reglor maser!
If Jim
shud
fancy gawn asleep,
Bob hes
te gan
wi' him, man,
An' if
Bob
fancies gannin 'oot,
He hes
te gan
wi' Jim, man ;
Where
Bob is
Jimmy hes te be,
Sumtimes
ye'd
think it issent spree,
But
what one dis
his mate mun de,
Iv a'
the seets
the world can see,
This is
the
biggest cawshun!
A
RESITAYSHUN.
JACKHARDY
was as
fine a lad
As ivor
ye cud
see,
The
reglor
pictor ov his dad,
His
muther once
tell'd me,
As cute
a lad,
as sharp a lad,
As
ye'll meet iv
a day,
A lad
that teuk
care ov his brass,
An'
threw nyen
on't away.
At the
age 0'
fower-an'-twenty
He gat
wark i'
the toon,
As
lodjins he
wes forced te tyek,
He teuk
a little
room
Frev a
canny
quiet widow, an'
Her
dowter, just
he-teen,
An' wes
settled
like a lanlord,
Wi'
greet
cumfort,-a' soreen.
N00,
the dowter
kind a fancied
That
here might
be a chance
For a
gud-man
real gud-luckin;
She
tried each
winnin glance
That
she thowt
was fascinaytin,
But not
one 0'
them wad de,
For
Jack had
diff'rint noshuns
As te
whe his
wife shud be.
Throo
the day,
Jack always thinkin,
Throo
the neet,
iv ivry dream,
Thor
wes only
one idea,
An'
strange as
it may seem,
Jack
he'sel had
quite porswayded,
An' wi'
quite a
settled mind,
IV a'
the wimmin
he had seen
The
widow wes
myest kind.
He
nivvor dreamt
her dowtor luv'd
Or
thowt ov him
at a'j
'Twad
been all
the syem thing if he had,
For
cutely,
yemun knaw,
He'd
reckund up
the furnitor,
Se
neat, se gud,
se trim,
An'
thowt a
hoose se weel set up
Wes
just the
thing for him!
Tho
cawshusly,
he seun begun
Te
koort the
widow there,
An'
smoked, an'
joked, an' tawk'd away
Iv her
late
man's easy chair.
He
fairly wun
her hoose an' luv,
An'
married seun
war they;
Tho
young enuff
te be her son,
They'd
many a
happy day.
"Revenge
is
sweet!" sumbody says,
An' so
the
dowter thowt,
For tho
Jack
nivvor knew her luv,
She
thowt he
did, or owt ;
An' a'
his
dinners that she keuck't
She
teuk gud
care te spoil:
Wi'
fire nearly
always oot,
The pot
wad
nivvor boil.
Things
went on
this way days an' weeks
Till
Jack's
mate, Harry Hills,
Proposed
te be
his son-in-law,
One
neet across
thor gills.
The
dowter got
him-s-noo her lot's
Te wait
upon a
man
That
always
pledges her his luv
When he
puts his
claes i' pawn.
He
likes his
beer, dis Harry Hills,
His
unkil knaws
that tee,
For
Harry's coat
he often get's
Te help
te raise
a spree;
While
lucky Jack
sticks tiv his wife,
A happy
couple,-they
Set a
pattern te
the young uns,
Workin
hard frae
day te day!"
A POME.
Aw thowt aw cud paint
a pictor,
Aw did, upon me word,
So aw bowt a penny box
0' paints,
Just what aw cud
afford,
An' then aw wundor'd
what aw'd try,
A man, a beast, or
bird.
Aw mind aw luckt i'
mony a shop,
Transparent slates aw
saw,
An' wish'd that aw cud
buy a one,
For then aw'd lairn te
draw;
But money often myeks
a man,
An' that ov korse
ye'll knaw.
So aw had te myek
me-sel content
Wi' nowt but what aw
had;
Aw struggled hard an'
did me best,
Like mony a poor lad,
An' wor foaks had the
narve te say
It wassent te call
bad.
Aw thowt aw wad tyek a
portrait,
So aw got me bruther
Ned
Te sit before us mony
a neet
When we shud been i'
bed,
Aw thowt them wes the
happiest oors
Two young uns ivor
led.
Aw myed his nose a'
kinds 0' shapes,
His eyes aw myed them
squint,
His cheek, throo maw
artistic skill,
Had monya dimple in't,
An' wiv a bright
rose-pink aw goh
Them such a bonny
tint.
But not a sowl alive
cud see
A bit 0' likeness
there,
Tho sum te please us
myed us think
'Twas really varry
fair,
For they wad say 'twas
just like Ned,
Se reed aboot the
hair!
But still aw thowt
aw'd deun se weel,
Aw'd heva try agyen,
For if a gud job's
once begun,
Te let it once alyen,
Wad ruin the best 0'
clivor skemes,
An' best 0' clivor
men.
So on went aw,-an' on
went Time,
Wi' nowt else i' me
heed,
But tyekin foaks's
likenesses,
Till aw stud hard i'
need
0' what aw cuddent de
without,
That's Life's
supporter, Breed!
Iv a booth at fair or
hoppin,
Wi' black paper aw wad
myek
Sum figgor for the
silly feuls,
Se daft such like te
tyek,
But feuIs mun often
help us, lads,
Or where's war daily
kyeck?
At last a fottygraff
masheen,
Like Ieetnin i' the
skies,
Com dazzlin one day te
me seet,
An' fill'd us wi'
surprise;
Be luck aw got one oat
on tick:
The man that ticks is
wise!
But Fortun always wi'
the brave
'Ill not a comrade be,
Aw cuddent tyek a
pictor wid,
One ivor fit te see;
Aw laid me heed upon
me hand,
An' wish'd that aw cud
dee.
At last a thowt flew
throo me brain,
An' myed us once mair
stir,
Ideas hoo te lairn the
trade
Had not struck me
before,
Aw'd try an' get a job
te stand
At sum fottygraffer's
door!
Aw did; an' noo ye'll
see me nyem's
Upon a decent van,
At races, ony place
where sport
Brings money is me
plan;
It's puff, an' cheek,
an' impittence
Myeks mony a bissniss
man.
Frae sixpence up te
ite-teen-pence,
Aw'll tyek ye weel on
glass,
An' cairds, six bob a
duzzin,
That nebody can
surpass,
Aw'lI myek gud-luckin
ony fyece,
Man, wummin, lad, or
lass!
V ENTORS AT THE GRAND
REGRETTA THAT
WES HELD (AUG. 1863)
THE SYEM WEEK THE
BRITISH ASSOCIASHUN OV WISE FOAKS
VISITED NEWCASSEL.
IT wes a splendid
seet-when aw sat like a king at the
heed 0' the King's Meadows amang a living
mass
0' live foaks-me heart
lowpt wiv excitement inside me new
waistkit-but a' passin clood put us i' mind
0' the umberella that
aw had borrow'd frae Bob Robson the
time-gun boom'd throo the air, an' shoots
frae the stentorian
lungs 0' the multitude drew me
atfenshun te the noble forms 0' the
champeins as
they war seen
imbarkin, wi' the most magnanymus
anniemosity rewards each uther, te dare the
dangers
0' the tretcherous
deep-it wes high tide, ye knaw-thor
off!-thor cummin ! -thor wes a roar 0'
voices an'
the river Sim-an'
-Teasdale- Wilsonusly-aw ron up the
Meadows wi' speed like JimPercy-aw's not
as lang as Ted Mills,
but aw felt aw turned WHITE for all
aw's a Bright-un-Chambors! aw shoots-aw
luckt at the men,
heedless where aw wes runnin te, when
all iv a suddint aw fell ower the Meadows-
it wes a momentus
moment for me-aw struggled te get
ashore-fearful retlecshuns struck us when aw
rickollected that aw
nivvor had got ony lessons frae
Professor Walker-for aw cuddent swim withoot
it wes doonwards-foaks
say droonin men catch at straws,
but thor wes ne straws, so aw clutched the
grass i' me
desperayshun-me hand slipt-pairt 0' the
grass
wes clay-aw fell doon agyen, leets danced
afore me eyes, fearful
noises rung i' me ears-nebody can
imadgin the aw-ful sensayshun aw felt when
maw editorial heed wes
under wetter-aw cud neither float
or swim-so aw
lay doon at the
'bottom
till it wes
law tide so as aw cud 'wawk oot !-aw
dinnet knaw hoo aw got hyem-aw cuddent
reckollect
owt
mair-for aw've been insensible ivor
since.-Yor Unlucky Frind,
-BILLY TURN-BULL.
About the bush, Willy,
About the beehive,
About the bush, Willy,
I'll meet thee alive.
Then to my ten shillings
Add you but a groat,
I'll go to Newcastle,
And buy a new coat.
Five and five shillings
Five and a crown;
Five and five shillings
Will buy a new gown.
Five and five shillings,
Five and a groat;
Five and five shillings
Will buy a new coat.
________________________________________________________
Gullen Trad. Number Rhymes (1950), 45 (no. 118).
[Gullen supposedly reflects rhymes as used in Scotland, but
this is a Northumbrian song, in Bruce & Stokoe (1882), 110,
with its pleasant tune.] 1.4 alive should be belyve, i.e.
soon.
MS
TEUN- "The Happiest
Man Alive."
MALLY put on yor
Sunday claes,-put on yor floonsie goon,
Aw'll brush yor beuts
or lace yor stays, so lass, cum
hurry doon;
Ye've nivvor seen a
race afore,-so this day ye mun see,
Or else ye will REGRET
AW say, ye diddent gan wi' me.
Korus
Then shuv aheed, show
yor speed,-cause a greet sensashun,
Myek the foaks believe
that we belang the Sociashuu !
Gan on maw bonny
Tyneside lads, an' let the cocknies see,
What Tyneside lads
when fairly meant, upon the Tyne can
de.
We might as weel not
drest at a', for nastie drizzlin
rain,
Te damp an' myek war
sporits law, cam doon wi' might
an'main.
On the Meadows we gat
landed-the first race had begun,
Says Mall aw've seen
yor junior skulls! an' powkt me ribs
i' fun.
The Champion Cup wes
pulled for next-twes aggravating
sair,
An' awthe foaks wes
fairly vext cas Green he wassent
there,
The Astray-lion
diddent shaw,-wi' Bob he'll not compete,
Sum said he'd tyen the
cramp agyen wi'thinkin 0' defeat.
The Sangate lads
roared oot wi' glee, game Teasdale will
seun win,
But Kelley showed the
way for spree, an' lickt brave
Teasdale in;
When Simm let Cooper
WALK the course, Mall put's quite iv
a heat,
When she shoots, "Bob,
if ye dinnet win, aw's sure
yor bad te beat."
The fine-ale heat for
the bonny cup wes noo the settled
race,
Then Cooper put the
steam full up, an' gah them sic a
chase,
When Harry Kelley
foold them byeth, an' said Bob, ye mun
stay,
But byeth the Tyneside
lads agreed they cuddent win that
way.
Bob Chambers pull'd a
bonny race,-the course at last wes
run,
Tho Cooper got the
foremost place, the prize still
wassent wun;
Disputes arose 'boot
fy'uls an' fools,-dissatisfacshun
tee
Rowl'd roond aboot wi'
growlan' shoot, an' so did Mall
an' me.
The pair-oared race
wes just the syem,-so Mall says, cum
away;
Twad been as weel te
stop at hyem, an' not been here the
day:
Te cheer us upwe byeth
agreed that we wad toddle doon,
An' open a' the wise
foaks eyes when swaggrinroond the
toon.
Written
On the
victorious career ov Jimmy Taylor, the
seiabrated boat-puller, efter
the
monny aifeats
if his game but Unlucky bruthers.
T IME'S
browr a
greet change that aw's happy te see,
A w's
prood that
the change is se gladsome te ye,
Y e've
proov'd
ye can stay, tho yor bruthers tried hard,
L ossin
each
race tho they wun greet regard;
O v a'
yor game
bruthers thor's nyen like yor-sel,
R ow
on, canny
lad, may ye ivor excel!
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