Sum time since, sum wild beasts there cam to the toon,And in the collection a famous Baboon,In uniform drest—if my story you're willinTo believe, he gat lowse, and ran te the High Fellin.Fal de rol la, &c.Three Pitmen cam up—they were smoking their pipe,When straight in afore them Jake lowp'd ower the dike:Ho, Jemmy! smash, marrow! here's a red-coated Jew,For his fyece is a' hairy, and he hez on nae shoe!Wey, man, thou's a fuil! for ye divent tell true,If thou says 'at that fellow was ever a Jew:Aw'll lay thou a quairt, as sure's my nyem's Jack,That queer luikin chep's just a Russian Cossack.He's ne Volunteer, aw ken biv his wauk;And if he's outlandish, we'll ken biv his tauk:He's a lang sword ahint him, ye'll see'd when he turns:Ony luik at his fyece! smash his byens, how he gurns!Tom flang doon his pipe, and set up a greet yell;He's owther a spy, or Bonnypairty's awnsell:Iv a crack the High Fellin was in full hue and cry,To catch Bonnypairt, or the hairy French spy.The wives scamper'd off for fear he should bite,The men-folks and dogs ran te grip him se tight;If we catch him, said they, he's hev ne lodging here,Ne, not e'en a drop o' Reed Robin's sma' beer.
Sum time since, sum wild beasts there cam to the toon,And in the collection a famous Baboon,In uniform drest—if my story you're willinTo believe, he gat lowse, and ran te the High Fellin.Fal de rol la, &c.
Three Pitmen cam up—they were smoking their pipe,When straight in afore them Jake lowp'd ower the dike:Ho, Jemmy! smash, marrow! here's a red-coated Jew,For his fyece is a' hairy, and he hez on nae shoe!
Wey, man, thou's a fuil! for ye divent tell true,If thou says 'at that fellow was ever a Jew:Aw'll lay thou a quairt, as sure's my nyem's Jack,That queer luikin chep's just a Russian Cossack.
He's ne Volunteer, aw ken biv his wauk;And if he's outlandish, we'll ken biv his tauk:He's a lang sword ahint him, ye'll see'd when he turns:Ony luik at his fyece! smash his byens, how he gurns!
Tom flang doon his pipe, and set up a greet yell;He's owther a spy, or Bonnypairty's awnsell:Iv a crack the High Fellin was in full hue and cry,To catch Bonnypairt, or the hairy French spy.
The wives scamper'd off for fear he should bite,The men-folks and dogs ran te grip him se tight;If we catch him, said they, he's hev ne lodging here,Ne, not e'en a drop o' Reed Robin's sma' beer.
Between Benwell and Newcastle.
Me nyem it's Billy Oliver,Iv Benwell town aw dwell;And aw's a cliver chep, aw's shure,Tho' aw de say'd mysel.Sic an a cliver chep am aw, am aw, am aw,Sic an a cliver chep am aw.There's not a lad iv a' wur wark,Can put or hew wi' me;Nor not a lad iv Benwell toon,Can coax the lasses se.Sic an a cliver cliep am aw.When aw gans tiv Newcassel toon,Aw myeks mawsel se fine,Wur neybors stand and stare at me,And say, 'Eh! what a shine!'Sic an a cliver chep am aw.And then aw walks wi' sic an air,That, if the folks hev eyes,They a'wis think it's sum greet man,That's cum in i' disguise.Sic an a cliver chep am aw.And when aw gans down Westgate-street,And alang biv Denton-chare,Aw whussels a' the way aw gans,To myek the people stare.Sic an a cliver chep am aw.And then aw gans intiv the Cock,Ca's for a pint o' beer;And when the lassie comes in wid,Aw a'wis says, Maw dear!Sic an a cliver chep am aw.And when aw gets a pint o' beer,Aw a'wis sings a sang;For aw've a nice yen aw can sing,Six an' thorty vairses lang.Sic an a cliver chep am aw.And if the folks that's i' the house,Cry, 'Haud yor tongue, ye cull!'Aw's sure to hev a fight wi' them,For aw's as strang as ony bull.Sic an a cliver chep am aw.And when aw've had a fight or twee,And fairly useless grown;Aw back, as drunk as aw can be,To canny Benwell toon.Sic an a cliver chep am aw.
Me nyem it's Billy Oliver,Iv Benwell town aw dwell;And aw's a cliver chep, aw's shure,Tho' aw de say'd mysel.Sic an a cliver chep am aw, am aw, am aw,Sic an a cliver chep am aw.
There's not a lad iv a' wur wark,Can put or hew wi' me;Nor not a lad iv Benwell toon,Can coax the lasses se.Sic an a cliver cliep am aw.
When aw gans tiv Newcassel toon,Aw myeks mawsel se fine,Wur neybors stand and stare at me,And say, 'Eh! what a shine!'Sic an a cliver chep am aw.
And then aw walks wi' sic an air,That, if the folks hev eyes,They a'wis think it's sum greet man,That's cum in i' disguise.Sic an a cliver chep am aw.
And when aw gans down Westgate-street,And alang biv Denton-chare,Aw whussels a' the way aw gans,To myek the people stare.Sic an a cliver chep am aw.
And then aw gans intiv the Cock,Ca's for a pint o' beer;And when the lassie comes in wid,Aw a'wis says, Maw dear!Sic an a cliver chep am aw.
And when aw gets a pint o' beer,Aw a'wis sings a sang;For aw've a nice yen aw can sing,Six an' thorty vairses lang.Sic an a cliver chep am aw.
And if the folks that's i' the house,Cry, 'Haud yor tongue, ye cull!'Aw's sure to hev a fight wi' them,For aw's as strang as ony bull.Sic an a cliver chep am aw.
And when aw've had a fight or twee,And fairly useless grown;Aw back, as drunk as aw can be,To canny Benwell toon.Sic an a cliver chep am aw.
My nyem is Willy Dixon,A Coachmaker to my trade;And when aw see a Pitman come,Aw run—because aw's flaid.Sic an a cliver chep am aw, am aw, am aw.Sic an a cliver chep am aw.On Pay-day neets aw gan to the Cock,When the Pitmen's aw gyen hyem,Then aw begins to rair and sing,And myek o' them a gyem.Sic an a cliver chep am aw.Ou Sunday mornings, then, you see,Aw dress mesel se fine;And wi' me white drill pantaloons,Aw cuts a fearful shine.Sic an a cliver chep am aw.Then what a swagger aw dis cut,As aw gan alang the street,But aw's myed se like nut-crackers,That maw nose and chin they meet.Sic an a cliver chep am aw.Then when aw gans to see the lass,It's in the afternoon;An' then we gans a wauking,Wi' her fine lustre goon.Sic an a cliver chep am aw.And as we gan through Jesmond fields,The lasses gyep and luick,And efter we get past them a',They cry, 'Ah! what a buck!'Sic an a cliver chep am aw.Then efter wandering up and down,At neet we toddle hyem;And aw gies her a kiss, you see,And she cries, 'Fie for shem!'Sic an a cliver chep am aw.Then aw seeks out my au'd wark claes,Gets on another sark;And on Monday morn, at six o'clock,Gans whisslin off to wark.Sic an a cliver chep am aw.
My nyem is Willy Dixon,A Coachmaker to my trade;And when aw see a Pitman come,Aw run—because aw's flaid.Sic an a cliver chep am aw, am aw, am aw.Sic an a cliver chep am aw.
On Pay-day neets aw gan to the Cock,When the Pitmen's aw gyen hyem,Then aw begins to rair and sing,And myek o' them a gyem.Sic an a cliver chep am aw.
Ou Sunday mornings, then, you see,Aw dress mesel se fine;And wi' me white drill pantaloons,Aw cuts a fearful shine.Sic an a cliver chep am aw.
Then what a swagger aw dis cut,As aw gan alang the street,But aw's myed se like nut-crackers,That maw nose and chin they meet.Sic an a cliver chep am aw.
Then when aw gans to see the lass,It's in the afternoon;An' then we gans a wauking,Wi' her fine lustre goon.Sic an a cliver chep am aw.
And as we gan through Jesmond fields,The lasses gyep and luick,And efter we get past them a',They cry, 'Ah! what a buck!'Sic an a cliver chep am aw.
Then efter wandering up and down,At neet we toddle hyem;And aw gies her a kiss, you see,And she cries, 'Fie for shem!'Sic an a cliver chep am aw.
Then aw seeks out my au'd wark claes,Gets on another sark;And on Monday morn, at six o'clock,Gans whisslin off to wark.Sic an a cliver chep am aw.
Or, Pitmen's Luck.
Smash! Jemmy, let us buss, we'll offAnd see Newcassel Races;Set Dick the trapper for some syep,We'll suin wesh a' wor faces.There's ne'er a lad iv Percy MainBe bet this day for five or ten;Wor pockets lin'd wiv notes and cash,Amang the cheps we'll cut a dash;For X Y Z, that bonny steed,He bangs them a' for pith and speed,He's sure to win the cup, man.We reach'd the Moor, wi' sairish tews,When they were gawn to start, man:We gav a fellow tuppence each,To stand upon a cart, man:The bets flew round frae side to side;'The field agyen X Y!' they cried:We'd hardly time to lay them a',When in he cam—Hurraw! hurraw!'Gad smash!' says aw, 'X Y's the steed,He bangs them a' for pith an' speed,We never see'd the like, man!'Next, to the tents we hied, to getSum stuffin for wor bags, man;Wi' flesh we gaily pang'd wor hides—Smok'd nowse but patten shag, man;While rum an' brandy soak'd each chop,We'd Jackey an' fine Ginger-pop;We gat what myed us winkin blin'—When drunkey aw began te sing—'Od smash! X Y, that bonny steed,Thou bangs them a' for pith an' speed,We never see'd his like, man!'Next up amang the shows we gat,Where folks a' stood i' flocks, man,To see a chep play Bob and Joan,Upon a wooden box, man;While bairns and music fill'd the stage,And some, by gox! were grim wi' age:When next au'd Grin a powny browt,Could tell at yence what people thowt!'Od smash!' says aw, 'if he's the breedOf X Y Z, that bonny steed,Thou never see'd his like, man.'But haud! when we cam to the toon,What thinks tou we saw there, man?We saw a Blacky puffin, sweetin,Suckin in fresh air, man;They said that he could fell an ox—His name was fighting Molinox:But ere he fit another round,His marrow fell'd him to the ground.'Od smash!' says aw, 'if thou's sic breedAs X Y Z, that bonny steed,Thou never see'd his like, man!'Next 'board a Steamer-boat we gat,A laddie rang a bell, man;We haddent sitten varry lang,Till byeth asleep we fell, man:But the noise seun myed poor Jemmy start—He thowt 'twas time to gan to wark,For pick and hoggers roar'd out he—And myed sic noise it waken'd me.'Od smash!' says aw, 'X Y's the steed,He bangs them a' for pith and speed,Aw never see'd his like, man!'When landed, straight off hyem aw gans,An' thunners at the door, man;The bairns lap ower the bed wi' fright,Fell smack upon the floor, man:But to gaur the wifey haud her tongue,Show'd her the kelter aw had won:She with a cinder burnt her toes,An' little Jacob broke his nose—The brass aw've getten at the raceWill buy a patch for Jacob's face—So now my sang is duin, man.
Smash! Jemmy, let us buss, we'll offAnd see Newcassel Races;Set Dick the trapper for some syep,We'll suin wesh a' wor faces.There's ne'er a lad iv Percy MainBe bet this day for five or ten;Wor pockets lin'd wiv notes and cash,Amang the cheps we'll cut a dash;For X Y Z, that bonny steed,He bangs them a' for pith and speed,He's sure to win the cup, man.
We reach'd the Moor, wi' sairish tews,When they were gawn to start, man:We gav a fellow tuppence each,To stand upon a cart, man:The bets flew round frae side to side;'The field agyen X Y!' they cried:We'd hardly time to lay them a',When in he cam—Hurraw! hurraw!'Gad smash!' says aw, 'X Y's the steed,He bangs them a' for pith an' speed,We never see'd the like, man!'
Next, to the tents we hied, to getSum stuffin for wor bags, man;Wi' flesh we gaily pang'd wor hides—Smok'd nowse but patten shag, man;While rum an' brandy soak'd each chop,We'd Jackey an' fine Ginger-pop;We gat what myed us winkin blin'—When drunkey aw began te sing—'Od smash! X Y, that bonny steed,Thou bangs them a' for pith an' speed,We never see'd his like, man!'
Next up amang the shows we gat,Where folks a' stood i' flocks, man,To see a chep play Bob and Joan,Upon a wooden box, man;While bairns and music fill'd the stage,And some, by gox! were grim wi' age:When next au'd Grin a powny browt,Could tell at yence what people thowt!'Od smash!' says aw, 'if he's the breedOf X Y Z, that bonny steed,Thou never see'd his like, man.'
But haud! when we cam to the toon,What thinks tou we saw there, man?We saw a Blacky puffin, sweetin,Suckin in fresh air, man;They said that he could fell an ox—His name was fighting Molinox:But ere he fit another round,His marrow fell'd him to the ground.'Od smash!' says aw, 'if thou's sic breedAs X Y Z, that bonny steed,Thou never see'd his like, man!'
Next 'board a Steamer-boat we gat,A laddie rang a bell, man;We haddent sitten varry lang,Till byeth asleep we fell, man:But the noise seun myed poor Jemmy start—He thowt 'twas time to gan to wark,For pick and hoggers roar'd out he—And myed sic noise it waken'd me.'Od smash!' says aw, 'X Y's the steed,He bangs them a' for pith and speed,Aw never see'd his like, man!'
When landed, straight off hyem aw gans,An' thunners at the door, man;The bairns lap ower the bed wi' fright,Fell smack upon the floor, man:But to gaur the wifey haud her tongue,Show'd her the kelter aw had won:She with a cinder burnt her toes,An' little Jacob broke his nose—The brass aw've getten at the raceWill buy a patch for Jacob's face—So now my sang is duin, man.
Or, The Pitman drinking Jackey.
Ha' ye been at Newcastle Fair,And did ye see owse o' great Sandy?Lord bliss us! what wark there was there;And the folks were drinking of brandy.Brandy a shilling a glass!Aw star'd, and thought it was shameful:Never mind, says aw, canny lass,Give us yell, and aw'll drink my wame full.Rum te idity, &c.Says she, Canny man, the yell's cau'd;It comes frev a man they caw Mackey,And by my faith! it's byeth sour and au'd;Ye'd best hev a drop o' wor Jackey.Your Jackey! says aw, now what's that?Aw ne'er heard the nyem o' sic liquor.English Gin, canny man, that's flat,And then she set up a great nicker.Rum te idity,&c.Says aw, Divent laugh at poor folks,But gan and bring some o' yur Jackey;Aw want nyen o' yur jibes or jokes,I' th' mean time aw'll tyek a bit backey.Aw just tuik a chew o' pig-tail,She brought in this Jackey sae funny:Says she, Sir, that's better than ale,And held out her hand for the money.Rum te idity, &c.There's three-pence to pay, if you please:Aw star'd and aw gap'd like a ninny;Od smash thee! aw'll sit at my ease,And not stir till aw've spent a half ginny.Aw sat and aw drank till quite blind,Then aw gat up to gan to the door,But deil smash a door could aw find!And fell flat o' maw fyece on the floor.Rum te idity, &c.There aw lay for ever sae lang,And dreamt about rivers and ditches;When waken'd, was singing this sang—'Smash, Jackey, thou's wet a' me breeches!'An' faith! but the sang it was true,For Jackey had been sae prevailing.He'd whistled himsel' quickly through,And the chairs and tables were sailing.Rum te idity, &c.Then rising, aw went maw ways hyem,Aw knock'd at the door, and cry'd Jenny!Says she, Canny man, is te lyem,Or been wading in Tyne, maw hinny?I' troth, she was like for to dee,And just by the way to relieve her,The water's been wading through me,And this Jackey's a gay deceiver.Rum te idity,&c.If e'er aw drink Jackey agyen,May the bitch of a lass, maw adviser,Lowp alive down maw throat, with a styenAs big as a pulveriser.Rum te idity, &c.
Ha' ye been at Newcastle Fair,And did ye see owse o' great Sandy?Lord bliss us! what wark there was there;And the folks were drinking of brandy.Brandy a shilling a glass!Aw star'd, and thought it was shameful:Never mind, says aw, canny lass,Give us yell, and aw'll drink my wame full.Rum te idity, &c.
Says she, Canny man, the yell's cau'd;It comes frev a man they caw Mackey,And by my faith! it's byeth sour and au'd;Ye'd best hev a drop o' wor Jackey.Your Jackey! says aw, now what's that?Aw ne'er heard the nyem o' sic liquor.English Gin, canny man, that's flat,And then she set up a great nicker.Rum te idity,&c.
Says aw, Divent laugh at poor folks,But gan and bring some o' yur Jackey;Aw want nyen o' yur jibes or jokes,I' th' mean time aw'll tyek a bit backey.Aw just tuik a chew o' pig-tail,She brought in this Jackey sae funny:Says she, Sir, that's better than ale,And held out her hand for the money.Rum te idity, &c.
There's three-pence to pay, if you please:Aw star'd and aw gap'd like a ninny;Od smash thee! aw'll sit at my ease,And not stir till aw've spent a half ginny.Aw sat and aw drank till quite blind,Then aw gat up to gan to the door,But deil smash a door could aw find!And fell flat o' maw fyece on the floor.Rum te idity, &c.
There aw lay for ever sae lang,And dreamt about rivers and ditches;When waken'd, was singing this sang—'Smash, Jackey, thou's wet a' me breeches!'An' faith! but the sang it was true,For Jackey had been sae prevailing.He'd whistled himsel' quickly through,And the chairs and tables were sailing.Rum te idity, &c.
Then rising, aw went maw ways hyem,Aw knock'd at the door, and cry'd Jenny!Says she, Canny man, is te lyem,Or been wading in Tyne, maw hinny?I' troth, she was like for to dee,And just by the way to relieve her,The water's been wading through me,And this Jackey's a gay deceiver.Rum te idity,&c.
If e'er aw drink Jackey agyen,May the bitch of a lass, maw adviser,Lowp alive down maw throat, with a styenAs big as a pulveriser.Rum te idity, &c.
'Twas between Hebbron and Jarrow,There cam on a varry strang gale,The Skipper luik'd out o' the huddock,Crying, 'Smash, man, lower the sail!Smash, man, lower the sail!Or else to the bottom we'll go!The keel and a' hands wad been lost,Had it not been for Jemmy Munro.Fal lal la, &c.The gale blew stranger and stranger,When they cam beside the Muck House,The Skipper cried out—'Jemmy, swing 'er!"But still was as fear'd as a mouse.Pee Dee ran to clear the anchor,'It's raffled!' right loudly he roar'd:—They a' said the gale wad sink her,If it wasn't seun thrawn overboard.The laddie ran sweaten, ran sweaten,The laddie ran sweaten about;Till the keel went bump against Jarrow,And three o' the bullies lap out:Three o' the bullies lap out,And left nyen in but little Pee Dee;Who ran about stamping and crying—'How! smash, Skipper, what mun aw dee?'They all shouted out frae the Kee,'Steer her close in by the shore;And then thraw the painter to me,Thou cat-fyec'd son of a whore!'The lad threw the painter ashore,They fasten'd her up to the Kee:But whe knaws how far she meyt gyen,Had it not been for Little Pee Dee.Then into the huddock they gat,And the flesh they began to fry:They talk'd o' the gale as they sat,How a' hands were lost—varry nigh.The Skipper roar'd out for a drink,Pee Dee ran to bring him the can:But odsmash, mun! what d'ye think?—He cowp'd a' the flesh out o' the pan!Fal lal la, &c.
'Twas between Hebbron and Jarrow,There cam on a varry strang gale,The Skipper luik'd out o' the huddock,Crying, 'Smash, man, lower the sail!Smash, man, lower the sail!Or else to the bottom we'll go!The keel and a' hands wad been lost,Had it not been for Jemmy Munro.Fal lal la, &c.
The gale blew stranger and stranger,When they cam beside the Muck House,The Skipper cried out—'Jemmy, swing 'er!"But still was as fear'd as a mouse.Pee Dee ran to clear the anchor,'It's raffled!' right loudly he roar'd:—They a' said the gale wad sink her,If it wasn't seun thrawn overboard.
The laddie ran sweaten, ran sweaten,The laddie ran sweaten about;Till the keel went bump against Jarrow,And three o' the bullies lap out:Three o' the bullies lap out,And left nyen in but little Pee Dee;Who ran about stamping and crying—'How! smash, Skipper, what mun aw dee?'
They all shouted out frae the Kee,'Steer her close in by the shore;And then thraw the painter to me,Thou cat-fyec'd son of a whore!'The lad threw the painter ashore,They fasten'd her up to the Kee:But whe knaws how far she meyt gyen,Had it not been for Little Pee Dee.
Then into the huddock they gat,And the flesh they began to fry:They talk'd o' the gale as they sat,How a' hands were lost—varry nigh.The Skipper roar'd out for a drink,Pee Dee ran to bring him the can:But odsmash, mun! what d'ye think?—He cowp'd a' the flesh out o' the pan!Fal lal la, &c.
Not long ago, a fray in ShieldsAnd Sunderland began,'Tween the Seamen and Ship-owners,How their vessels they should man;But the Owners stiff, to them were deaf,Which made the Seamen for to grumble,For our Tyne Cossacks they soon did send,The haughty pride of Jack to humble.Whack row de dow, &c.A letter being sent, they wereCall'd out without delay;But the Gen'ral thought he'd try their skillBefore they went away:So round the Moor he made them scour,Before him cut such wond'rous capers;Their praise he sounded high and low,In all the three Newcassel Papers.Whack row de dow, &c.He cries, My lads, you're qualifiedTo do such wond'rous feats,That to Shields and Cleadon you must go,To clear the lanes and streets;Destroy all those who may opposeThe ships from sailing down the river,And then our Prince will sure commendYour deeds in arms, my boys, so clever.Whack row de dow, &c.The Butcher cries, if we begin,We'll surely kill and slay;The Tanner swore they'd tan their hides,Before they came away;A Tailor next, with fear perplext,Said, he should like no other station,Than to be the Doctor's waiting man,If sanction'd by the Corporation.Whack row de dow, &c.To Shields they got, tho' much fatigued,Upon their worn-out hacks,Some cried, 'The Polish Lancers come!'And others, 'Tyne's Cossacks!'By some mishap, the Farrier's capBlew off, but met with coolish treatment,Into a huckster's shop it went—Now Martin's cap's a tatie beatment.Whack row de dow, &c.For several weeks they rode about,Like poachers seeking game;The Marines so bold, as I am told,Had better sight than them;For every boat that was afloat,They seiz'd upon with mad-like fury,And to the bottom sent them straight,Not asking either Judge or Jury.Whack row de dow, &c.The deed was done by this effort,All opposition gone,The ardour of the heroes cool'd,'Cause they were lookers on:Odsmash! says yen, if e'er agyenThere's ony mair au'd boats to smatter,We'll hev horses that's web-footed, thenWe'll fight byeth on the land and watter.Whack row de dow, &c.Now should our Tyne Cossacks e'er haveTo face their enemies,They'll boldly meet them on the land,Or on the stormy seas.While the farmers sing, that they, next spring,At spreading dung will ne'er be idle:So—success to these Invincibles,Their long swords, sadle, bridle.Whack row de dow, &c.
Not long ago, a fray in ShieldsAnd Sunderland began,'Tween the Seamen and Ship-owners,How their vessels they should man;But the Owners stiff, to them were deaf,Which made the Seamen for to grumble,For our Tyne Cossacks they soon did send,The haughty pride of Jack to humble.Whack row de dow, &c.
A letter being sent, they wereCall'd out without delay;But the Gen'ral thought he'd try their skillBefore they went away:So round the Moor he made them scour,Before him cut such wond'rous capers;Their praise he sounded high and low,In all the three Newcassel Papers.Whack row de dow, &c.
He cries, My lads, you're qualifiedTo do such wond'rous feats,That to Shields and Cleadon you must go,To clear the lanes and streets;Destroy all those who may opposeThe ships from sailing down the river,And then our Prince will sure commendYour deeds in arms, my boys, so clever.Whack row de dow, &c.
The Butcher cries, if we begin,We'll surely kill and slay;The Tanner swore they'd tan their hides,Before they came away;A Tailor next, with fear perplext,Said, he should like no other station,Than to be the Doctor's waiting man,If sanction'd by the Corporation.Whack row de dow, &c.
To Shields they got, tho' much fatigued,Upon their worn-out hacks,Some cried, 'The Polish Lancers come!'And others, 'Tyne's Cossacks!'By some mishap, the Farrier's capBlew off, but met with coolish treatment,Into a huckster's shop it went—Now Martin's cap's a tatie beatment.Whack row de dow, &c.
For several weeks they rode about,Like poachers seeking game;The Marines so bold, as I am told,Had better sight than them;For every boat that was afloat,They seiz'd upon with mad-like fury,And to the bottom sent them straight,Not asking either Judge or Jury.Whack row de dow, &c.
The deed was done by this effort,All opposition gone,The ardour of the heroes cool'd,'Cause they were lookers on:Odsmash! says yen, if e'er agyenThere's ony mair au'd boats to smatter,We'll hev horses that's web-footed, thenWe'll fight byeth on the land and watter.Whack row de dow, &c.
Now should our Tyne Cossacks e'er haveTo face their enemies,They'll boldly meet them on the land,Or on the stormy seas.While the farmers sing, that they, next spring,At spreading dung will ne'er be idle:So—success to these Invincibles,Their long swords, sadle, bridle.Whack row de dow, &c.
Against Buonaparte.
Ha' ye heard o' these wondrous Dons,That myeks this mighty fuss, man,About invading Britain's land?I vow they're wondrous spruce, man:But little do the Frenchmen kenAbout our loyal Englishmen;Our Collier lads are for cockades,And guns to shoot the French, man.Tol lol de rol, de rol de rol.Then to parade the Pitmen went,Wi' hearts byeth stout an' strang, man;Gad smash the French! we are sae strang,We'll shoot them every one, man!Gad smash me sark! if aw wad stickTo tumble them a' down the pit,As fast as aw could thraw a coal,Aw'd tumble them a' doon the hole,An' close her in abuin, man.Tol lol de rol, &c.Heads up! says yen, ye silly sow,Ye dinna mind the word, man:Eyes right! says Tom, and wi' a dam,And march off at the word, man:Did ever mortals see sic brutes,To order me to lift me cutes!Ad smash the fuil! he stands and talks,How can he learn me to walk,That's walk'd this forty year, man!Tol lol de rol, &c.But should the Frenchmen shew their fyece,Upon our waggon-ways, man,Then, there upon the road, ye knaw,We'd myek them end their days, man:Aye, Bonaparte's sel aw'd tyek,And thraw him i' the burning heap,And wi' greet speed aw'd roast him deed;His marrows, then, aw wad nae heed,We'd pick out a' their e'en, man.Tol lol de rol, &c.Says Willy Dunn to loyal Tom,Your words are all a joke, man;For Geordy winna hae your help,Ye're sic kamstarie folk, man:Then Willy, lad, we'll rest in peace,In hopes that a' the wars may cease;But awse gi'e ye Wull, to understand,As lang as aw can wield me hand,There's nyen but George shall reign, man.Tol lol de rol, &c.Enough of this hes sure been said,Cry'd cowardly Willy Dunn, man;For should the Frenchmen come this way,We'd be ready for to run, man.Gad smash you, for a fuil! says Tom,For if aw could not use me gun,Aw'd tyek me pick, aw'd hew them doon,And run and cry, through a' the toon,God save greet George our King, man!Tol lol de rol, &c.
Ha' ye heard o' these wondrous Dons,That myeks this mighty fuss, man,About invading Britain's land?I vow they're wondrous spruce, man:But little do the Frenchmen kenAbout our loyal Englishmen;Our Collier lads are for cockades,And guns to shoot the French, man.Tol lol de rol, de rol de rol.
Then to parade the Pitmen went,Wi' hearts byeth stout an' strang, man;Gad smash the French! we are sae strang,We'll shoot them every one, man!Gad smash me sark! if aw wad stickTo tumble them a' down the pit,As fast as aw could thraw a coal,Aw'd tumble them a' doon the hole,An' close her in abuin, man.Tol lol de rol, &c.
Heads up! says yen, ye silly sow,Ye dinna mind the word, man:Eyes right! says Tom, and wi' a dam,And march off at the word, man:Did ever mortals see sic brutes,To order me to lift me cutes!Ad smash the fuil! he stands and talks,How can he learn me to walk,That's walk'd this forty year, man!Tol lol de rol, &c.
But should the Frenchmen shew their fyece,Upon our waggon-ways, man,Then, there upon the road, ye knaw,We'd myek them end their days, man:Aye, Bonaparte's sel aw'd tyek,And thraw him i' the burning heap,And wi' greet speed aw'd roast him deed;His marrows, then, aw wad nae heed,We'd pick out a' their e'en, man.Tol lol de rol, &c.
Says Willy Dunn to loyal Tom,Your words are all a joke, man;For Geordy winna hae your help,Ye're sic kamstarie folk, man:Then Willy, lad, we'll rest in peace,In hopes that a' the wars may cease;But awse gi'e ye Wull, to understand,As lang as aw can wield me hand,There's nyen but George shall reign, man.Tol lol de rol, &c.
Enough of this hes sure been said,Cry'd cowardly Willy Dunn, man;For should the Frenchmen come this way,We'd be ready for to run, man.Gad smash you, for a fuil! says Tom,For if aw could not use me gun,Aw'd tyek me pick, aw'd hew them doon,And run and cry, through a' the toon,God save greet George our King, man!Tol lol de rol, &c.
Ho'way and aw'll sing thee a tune, man,'Bout huz seein my Lord at the toon, man:Aw's seer aw was smart, nowAw'll lay thee a quart, now,Nyen them a' cut a dash like Bob Cranky!When aw pat on maw blue coat that shines sae,Me jacket wi' posies sae fine, sae,Maw sark sic sma' threed, man,Maw pig-tail sae greet, man!Od smash! what a buck was Bob Cranky!Blue stockings, white clocks, and reed garters,Yellow breeks, and me shoon wi' lang quarters,Aw myed wor bairns cry,Eh! sarties! ni! ni!Sic varry fine things had Bob Cranky.Aw went to au'd Tom's and fand Nancy;Kiv aw, Lass, thou's myed to my fancy!Aw like thou as weelAs a stannin pye heel,Ho'way to thee toon wi' Bob Cranky.As up Jenny's backside we were bangin,Ki' Geordy, How! where are ye gannin?Wey t' see my Lord Sizes,But ye shanna gan aside us,For ye're not half sae fine as Bob Cranky.Ki' Geordy, We leeve i' yen raw, wyet,I' yen corf we byeth gan belaw, wyet,At a' things aw've play'd,And to hew, aw'm not flaid,Wi' sic in a chep as Bob Cranky.Bob hez thee at lowpin and flingin,At the bool, foot-ball, clubby, and swingin:Can ye jump up and shuffle,And cross owre the buckle,When ye dance, like the cliver Bob Cranky.Thou knaws i' my hoggers and drawers,Aw'm nyen o' your scarters and clawers:Frae the trap door bit laddieT' the spletter his daddie,Nyen handles the pick like Bob Cranky.Sae, Geordy, od smash my pit sark!Thou'd best haud thee whisht about wark,Or aw'll sobble thee body,And myek thee nose bloody,If thou sets up thee gob to Bob Cranky.Nan laugh'd—to church we gat without 'im;The great crowd, becrike, how aw hew'd 'em!Smasht a keel-bully roar'd,Clear the road! whilk's my Lord?Half sae high as the noble Bob Cranky.Aw lup up, and catch'd just a short gliffO' Lord Trials, the Trumpets and Sheriff,Wi' the little bit mannies,Sae fine and sae canny,Ods heft! what a seet for Bob Cranky!Then away we set off to the yell-hoose,Wiv a few hearty lasses an' fellows:Aw tell'd ower the wig,Sae curl'd and sae big;For nyen saw't sae weel as Bob Cranky.Aw gat drunk, fit, and kick'd up a racket,Rove me breeks and spoil'd a' me fine jacket;Nan cry'd and she cuddled,Maw hinny thou's fuddled,Ho'way hyem, now me bonny Bob Cranky!So we stagger'd alang frae the toon, mun,Whiles gannin, whiles byeth fairly down, mun;Smash, a banksman or hewer,No, not a fine viewer,Durst jaw to the noble Bob Cranky.What care aw for maw new suit, i' tatters,Twee blaek een—od smash a' sic matters!When me Lord comes agyen, mun,Aw'll strive, ev'ry byen, mun,To bang a' wor consarn, ki Bob Cranky.O' the flesh an' breed day, when wor bun, mun,Aw'll buy claes far bonnier thau thou, mun;For, od smash my nyavel!As lang as wor yebble,Let's keep up the day! ki Bob Cranky.
Ho'way and aw'll sing thee a tune, man,'Bout huz seein my Lord at the toon, man:Aw's seer aw was smart, nowAw'll lay thee a quart, now,Nyen them a' cut a dash like Bob Cranky!
When aw pat on maw blue coat that shines sae,Me jacket wi' posies sae fine, sae,Maw sark sic sma' threed, man,Maw pig-tail sae greet, man!Od smash! what a buck was Bob Cranky!
Blue stockings, white clocks, and reed garters,Yellow breeks, and me shoon wi' lang quarters,Aw myed wor bairns cry,Eh! sarties! ni! ni!Sic varry fine things had Bob Cranky.
Aw went to au'd Tom's and fand Nancy;Kiv aw, Lass, thou's myed to my fancy!Aw like thou as weelAs a stannin pye heel,Ho'way to thee toon wi' Bob Cranky.
As up Jenny's backside we were bangin,Ki' Geordy, How! where are ye gannin?Wey t' see my Lord Sizes,But ye shanna gan aside us,For ye're not half sae fine as Bob Cranky.
Ki' Geordy, We leeve i' yen raw, wyet,I' yen corf we byeth gan belaw, wyet,At a' things aw've play'd,And to hew, aw'm not flaid,Wi' sic in a chep as Bob Cranky.
Bob hez thee at lowpin and flingin,At the bool, foot-ball, clubby, and swingin:Can ye jump up and shuffle,And cross owre the buckle,When ye dance, like the cliver Bob Cranky.
Thou knaws i' my hoggers and drawers,Aw'm nyen o' your scarters and clawers:Frae the trap door bit laddieT' the spletter his daddie,Nyen handles the pick like Bob Cranky.
Sae, Geordy, od smash my pit sark!Thou'd best haud thee whisht about wark,Or aw'll sobble thee body,And myek thee nose bloody,If thou sets up thee gob to Bob Cranky.
Nan laugh'd—to church we gat without 'im;The great crowd, becrike, how aw hew'd 'em!Smasht a keel-bully roar'd,Clear the road! whilk's my Lord?Half sae high as the noble Bob Cranky.
Aw lup up, and catch'd just a short gliffO' Lord Trials, the Trumpets and Sheriff,Wi' the little bit mannies,Sae fine and sae canny,Ods heft! what a seet for Bob Cranky!
Then away we set off to the yell-hoose,Wiv a few hearty lasses an' fellows:Aw tell'd ower the wig,Sae curl'd and sae big;For nyen saw't sae weel as Bob Cranky.
Aw gat drunk, fit, and kick'd up a racket,Rove me breeks and spoil'd a' me fine jacket;Nan cry'd and she cuddled,Maw hinny thou's fuddled,Ho'way hyem, now me bonny Bob Cranky!
So we stagger'd alang frae the toon, mun,Whiles gannin, whiles byeth fairly down, mun;Smash, a banksman or hewer,No, not a fine viewer,Durst jaw to the noble Bob Cranky.
What care aw for maw new suit, i' tatters,Twee blaek een—od smash a' sic matters!When me Lord comes agyen, mun,Aw'll strive, ev'ry byen, mun,To bang a' wor consarn, ki Bob Cranky.
O' the flesh an' breed day, when wor bun, mun,Aw'll buy claes far bonnier thau thou, mun;For, od smash my nyavel!As lang as wor yebble,Let's keep up the day! ki Bob Cranky.
Lord 'Sizes leuks weel in coach shinin',Whese wig wad let Nan's heed an' mine in;But a bonnier seet,Was the Leum'nation neet—It dazzled the een o' Bob Cranky.Aboot seven aw gov ower warkin,Gat beard off, and put a white sark on;For Newcasslers, thowt aw,Giff they dinna see me braw,Will say 'What a gowk is Bob Cranky!'A ran to the toon without stoppin',An' fand ilka street like a hoppin;An' the folks stood sae thick,Aw sair wish'd for maw pick,To hew oot a way for Bob Cranky.The guns then went off frae the Cassel,Seun windors wur a' in a dazzle;Ilka place was like day,Aw then shouted, 'Hurray!There's plenty an' peace for Bob Cranky!'Sum windors had pictures sae bonny!Wi' sma' lamps aw can't tell how mony;Te count them, aw'm sure,Wad bother the Viewer—A greater Goggriffer than Cranky.Aw see'd croons myed o' lamps blue an' reed,Whilk aw wad na like to put on my heed!'G. P. R.' aw see'd next,For wor Geordy Prince Rex:—Nyen spelt it sae weel as Bob Cranky.Sum had anchors of leet high hung up,To shew folk greet Bonny was deun up;But, far as aw see, man,As reet it wad be, man,To leet up the pick o' Bob Cranky.A leg of meat sed, 'Doon aw's cummin!'But sum chep aw suen fand was hummin;For aw stopp'd bit belaw,Haudin oot a lang paw,But mutton cam ne nearer Cranky.A cask on the Vicar's pump top, man,Markt 'Plenty an' Peace,' gard me stop, man:Thinks aw te mesel,Aw's here get sum yell,But only cau'd waiter gat Cranky.Bonny, shav'd biv a bear, was then shot, man;And biv Auld Nick weel thump'd in a pot, man;But aw thowt a' the toonShuddent lick him when doon,Tho' he'd a greet spite to Bob Cranky.Yen Price had the cream o' the bowl, man,Wi' goold lamps clagg'd close cheek by jowl, man:It was sick a fine seet,Aw could glower'd a' neet,Had fu' been the wame o' Bob Cranky.Ne mair seed aw till signal gun fired,Out went the leets, an' hyem aw gat, tired:Nan ax'd 'bout Leum'nations,Aw bad her hae patience,An' first fetch sum flesh to Bob Cranky.Aw tell'd her what news aw had heerd, man,That shuggar was sixpence a pund, man;An' good beef at a groat:—Then wor Nan clear'd her throat,An' shooted oot, 'Plenty for Cranky!''Twas a' lees—for when Nan gang'd te toon,An' for yen pund a sixpence pat doon;Frae shop she was winnin',When Grosser, deuce bin him!Teuk a' the cheap shuggar frae Cranky.But gifPeacebrings another gran' neet,Aw think folk shou'd haePlentyte eat:Singin' hinnies, aw'm shoor,An' strang yell at the door,Wad better nor candles please Cranky.Then agyen, what a shem an' a sin!Te the Pitt dinner nyen ax'd me in:Yet aw work like a Turk,Byeth wi' pick, knife, an' fork—An' whe's mair aPittitenor Cranky.Or what could ye a' dee without me,When cau'd ice and snaw com aboot ye?Then sair ye wad shiver,For a' ye're sae cliver,An' lang for the pick o' Bob Cranky!
Lord 'Sizes leuks weel in coach shinin',Whese wig wad let Nan's heed an' mine in;But a bonnier seet,Was the Leum'nation neet—It dazzled the een o' Bob Cranky.
Aboot seven aw gov ower warkin,Gat beard off, and put a white sark on;For Newcasslers, thowt aw,Giff they dinna see me braw,Will say 'What a gowk is Bob Cranky!'
A ran to the toon without stoppin',An' fand ilka street like a hoppin;An' the folks stood sae thick,Aw sair wish'd for maw pick,To hew oot a way for Bob Cranky.
The guns then went off frae the Cassel,Seun windors wur a' in a dazzle;Ilka place was like day,Aw then shouted, 'Hurray!There's plenty an' peace for Bob Cranky!'
Sum windors had pictures sae bonny!Wi' sma' lamps aw can't tell how mony;Te count them, aw'm sure,Wad bother the Viewer—A greater Goggriffer than Cranky.
Aw see'd croons myed o' lamps blue an' reed,Whilk aw wad na like to put on my heed!'G. P. R.' aw see'd next,For wor Geordy Prince Rex:—Nyen spelt it sae weel as Bob Cranky.
Sum had anchors of leet high hung up,To shew folk greet Bonny was deun up;But, far as aw see, man,As reet it wad be, man,To leet up the pick o' Bob Cranky.
A leg of meat sed, 'Doon aw's cummin!'But sum chep aw suen fand was hummin;For aw stopp'd bit belaw,Haudin oot a lang paw,But mutton cam ne nearer Cranky.
A cask on the Vicar's pump top, man,Markt 'Plenty an' Peace,' gard me stop, man:Thinks aw te mesel,Aw's here get sum yell,But only cau'd waiter gat Cranky.
Bonny, shav'd biv a bear, was then shot, man;And biv Auld Nick weel thump'd in a pot, man;But aw thowt a' the toonShuddent lick him when doon,Tho' he'd a greet spite to Bob Cranky.
Yen Price had the cream o' the bowl, man,Wi' goold lamps clagg'd close cheek by jowl, man:It was sick a fine seet,Aw could glower'd a' neet,Had fu' been the wame o' Bob Cranky.
Ne mair seed aw till signal gun fired,Out went the leets, an' hyem aw gat, tired:Nan ax'd 'bout Leum'nations,Aw bad her hae patience,An' first fetch sum flesh to Bob Cranky.
Aw tell'd her what news aw had heerd, man,That shuggar was sixpence a pund, man;An' good beef at a groat:—Then wor Nan clear'd her throat,An' shooted oot, 'Plenty for Cranky!'
'Twas a' lees—for when Nan gang'd te toon,An' for yen pund a sixpence pat doon;Frae shop she was winnin',When Grosser, deuce bin him!Teuk a' the cheap shuggar frae Cranky.
But gifPeacebrings another gran' neet,Aw think folk shou'd haePlentyte eat:Singin' hinnies, aw'm shoor,An' strang yell at the door,Wad better nor candles please Cranky.
Then agyen, what a shem an' a sin!Te the Pitt dinner nyen ax'd me in:Yet aw work like a Turk,Byeth wi' pick, knife, an' fork—An' whe's mair aPittitenor Cranky.
Or what could ye a' dee without me,When cau'd ice and snaw com aboot ye?Then sair ye wad shiver,For a' ye're sae cliver,An' lang for the pick o' Bob Cranky!
Oh! Tommy, lad, howay! aw's myek thou full o' play;Aw'm sartin that thou'll byeth skip and lowpy-O:Aw've sic a bonny thing, an' it's myed o' glass an' tin,An' they say it's nyem's a bonny Gleediscowpy-O.Skellyscowpy-O, &c.A gawn alang the Close, a bit laddy cock'd his nose,An' was keekin throud' aside the Jabel Growpey-O:Aw fand that he wad sell'd; sae, odsmash! aw'm proud te tell'd!For twee shillin' bowt his bonny Gleediscowpey-O.Wey, then aw ran off hyem—Nan thowt me myekin gyem;Said, my Deavy[1]for a new aw'd had a cowpey-O:But she gurn'd, aye, like a sweeper, when aw held it tiv her peeper,See'd church-windors through my bonny Gleediscowpey-O.Then the bairns they ran like sheep, a' strove to hev a peep,Frae the audest lass, aye doon to the dowpey-O:There Dick dang ower Cud, myed his nose gush out o' blood,As he ran to see the bonny Gleediscowpey-O.There was dwiney little Peg, not sae nimmel i' the leg,Ower the three-footed stuil gat sic a cowpey-O;And Sandy wiv his beak, myed a lump i' mother's cheek,Climbin up to see the bonny Gleediscowpey-O.But she held it tiv her e'e, aye, till she could hardly see,Oh! then aboot the markettin she thowty-O:Wey, Lukey, man! says she, 'stead o' shuggar, flesh, an' tea,Thou's fetch'd us hyem thy bonny Gleediscowpey-O.She struck me wi' surprise while she skelly'd wiv her eyes,And aw spak as if aw'd gettin a bit rowpey-O.So, neighbours, tyek a hint, if ye peep ower lang ye'll squint,For aw think they're reetly nyem'd a Gleediscowpey-O.
Oh! Tommy, lad, howay! aw's myek thou full o' play;Aw'm sartin that thou'll byeth skip and lowpy-O:Aw've sic a bonny thing, an' it's myed o' glass an' tin,An' they say it's nyem's a bonny Gleediscowpy-O.Skellyscowpy-O, &c.
A gawn alang the Close, a bit laddy cock'd his nose,An' was keekin throud' aside the Jabel Growpey-O:Aw fand that he wad sell'd; sae, odsmash! aw'm proud te tell'd!For twee shillin' bowt his bonny Gleediscowpey-O.
Wey, then aw ran off hyem—Nan thowt me myekin gyem;Said, my Deavy[1]for a new aw'd had a cowpey-O:But she gurn'd, aye, like a sweeper, when aw held it tiv her peeper,See'd church-windors through my bonny Gleediscowpey-O.
Then the bairns they ran like sheep, a' strove to hev a peep,Frae the audest lass, aye doon to the dowpey-O:There Dick dang ower Cud, myed his nose gush out o' blood,As he ran to see the bonny Gleediscowpey-O.
There was dwiney little Peg, not sae nimmel i' the leg,Ower the three-footed stuil gat sic a cowpey-O;And Sandy wiv his beak, myed a lump i' mother's cheek,Climbin up to see the bonny Gleediscowpey-O.
But she held it tiv her e'e, aye, till she could hardly see,Oh! then aboot the markettin she thowty-O:Wey, Lukey, man! says she, 'stead o' shuggar, flesh, an' tea,Thou's fetch'd us hyem thy bonny Gleediscowpey-O.
She struck me wi' surprise while she skelly'd wiv her eyes,And aw spak as if aw'd gettin a bit rowpey-O.So, neighbours, tyek a hint, if ye peep ower lang ye'll squint,For aw think they're reetly nyem'd a Gleediscowpey-O.
[1]A term for the Safety Lamp.
[1]A term for the Safety Lamp.
Maw bonny keel laddie, maw canny keel laddie,Maw bonny keel laddie for me, O!He sits in his keel, as black as the Deil,And he brings the white money to me, O.Ha' ye seen owt o' maw canny man,An' are ye sure he's weel, O?He's gyen ower land, wiv a stick in his hand,To help to moor the keel, O.The canny keel laddie, the bonny keel laddie,The canny keel laddie for me, O;He sits in his huddock, and claws his bare buddock,And brings the white money to me, O.
Maw bonny keel laddie, maw canny keel laddie,Maw bonny keel laddie for me, O!He sits in his keel, as black as the Deil,And he brings the white money to me, O.
Ha' ye seen owt o' maw canny man,An' are ye sure he's weel, O?He's gyen ower land, wiv a stick in his hand,To help to moor the keel, O.
The canny keel laddie, the bonny keel laddie,The canny keel laddie for me, O;He sits in his huddock, and claws his bare buddock,And brings the white money to me, O.
Where hest te been, maw canny hinny?An' where hest te been, maw bonny bairn?Aw was up an' doon seeking for maw hinny,Aw was through the toon seekin for maw bairn:Aw went up the Butcher Bank and doon Grundin Chare,Caw'd at the Dun Cow, but aw cuddent find thee there.Where hest te been, maw canny hinny?An' where hest te been, maw bonny bairn, &c.Then aw went t' th' Cassel-garth and caw'd on Johnny Fife.The beer drawer tell'd me she ne'er saw thee in her life.Where hest te been, &c.Then aw went into the Three Bulls' Heads, and down the Lang Stairs,And a' the way alang the Close, as far as Mr. Mayor's.Where hest te been, &c.Fra there aw went alang the Brig, and up to Jackson's Chare,Then back agyen to the Cross Keys, but cuddent find thee there.Where hest te been, &c.Then comin out o' Pipergate, aw met wi' Willy Rigg,Whe tell'd me that he saw the stannen p——n on the BrigWhere hest te been, &c.Cummin alang the Brig agyen, aw met wi' Cristy Gee,He tell'd me that he saw thee gannin down Humes's Entery.Where hest te been, &c.Where hev aw been! aw seun can tell ye that;Cummin up the Kee, aw met wi' Peter Pratt;Meetin Peter Pratt, we met wi' Tommy Wear,And went to Humes's t' get a gill o' beer.There's where aw've been, maw canny hinny,There's where aw've been, maw bonny lamb!Wast tu up an' down, seekin for thee hinny?Wast tu up an' down, seekin for thee lamb?Then aw met yur Ben, and we were like to fight,And when we cam to Sandgate it was pick night;Crossin the road, aw met wi' Bobby Swinny.—Hing on the girdle, let's hev a singin hinny.A' me sorrow's ower now aw've fund maw hinny;A' me sorrow's ower now aw've fund maw bairn;Lang may aw shoot, Maw canny hinny!Lang may aw shoot, Maw bonny bairn!
Where hest te been, maw canny hinny?An' where hest te been, maw bonny bairn?Aw was up an' doon seeking for maw hinny,Aw was through the toon seekin for maw bairn:Aw went up the Butcher Bank and doon Grundin Chare,Caw'd at the Dun Cow, but aw cuddent find thee there.
Where hest te been, maw canny hinny?An' where hest te been, maw bonny bairn, &c.
Then aw went t' th' Cassel-garth and caw'd on Johnny Fife.The beer drawer tell'd me she ne'er saw thee in her life.Where hest te been, &c.
Then aw went into the Three Bulls' Heads, and down the Lang Stairs,And a' the way alang the Close, as far as Mr. Mayor's.Where hest te been, &c.
Fra there aw went alang the Brig, and up to Jackson's Chare,Then back agyen to the Cross Keys, but cuddent find thee there.Where hest te been, &c.
Then comin out o' Pipergate, aw met wi' Willy Rigg,Whe tell'd me that he saw the stannen p——n on the BrigWhere hest te been, &c.
Cummin alang the Brig agyen, aw met wi' Cristy Gee,He tell'd me that he saw thee gannin down Humes's Entery.Where hest te been, &c.
Where hev aw been! aw seun can tell ye that;Cummin up the Kee, aw met wi' Peter Pratt;Meetin Peter Pratt, we met wi' Tommy Wear,And went to Humes's t' get a gill o' beer.
There's where aw've been, maw canny hinny,There's where aw've been, maw bonny lamb!Wast tu up an' down, seekin for thee hinny?Wast tu up an' down, seekin for thee lamb?
Then aw met yur Ben, and we were like to fight,And when we cam to Sandgate it was pick night;Crossin the road, aw met wi' Bobby Swinny.—Hing on the girdle, let's hev a singin hinny.
A' me sorrow's ower now aw've fund maw hinny;A' me sorrow's ower now aw've fund maw bairn;Lang may aw shoot, Maw canny hinny!Lang may aw shoot, Maw bonny bairn!
Of the Ascent of Mr. Sadler's Balloon, from Newcastle, Sept. 1, 1815.