The Newcastle Song Book Part 10

He takes his quairt right dearly, Each comin' pay-day, nearly, Then talks O, latin O--cheerly, Or mavies jaws away; How caring not a feather, Nelson and he together, The springey French did lether.

And gar'd them shab away.

Weel may the keel row, &c.

We're a' kings comparely, In each I'd spy a fairly, An' ay wad Johnny barly, He gets sic bonny bairns: Go bon, the queen, or misses, But wad, for Johnny's kisses, Luik upon as blisses, Scrimp meals, caff beds, and dairns.

Weel may the keel row, &c.

Wor lads, like their deddy, To fight the French are ready; But gie's a peace that's steady, And breed cheep as langsyne; May a' the press-gang perish, Each la.s.s her laddie cherish: Lang may the Coal Trade flourish Upon the dingy Tyne.

Weel may the keel row, &c.

Breet Star o' Heaton, You're ay wor darling sweet on'; May heaven's blessings leet on Your lyedy, bairns, and ye!

G.o.d bless the King and Nation!

Each bravely fill his station: Our canny _Corporation_, Lang may they sing, wi' me, Weel may the keel row, &c.

THE SANDHILL MONKEY.

A story aw's gaun for to tell, An' t' ye it may luik varry strange, It was in a shop on the Sandhill, When the Craw's Nest was on the Exchange.

A monkey was each day drest soon, Ahint the c.o.o.nter he sat i' the shop, Whe cam in an' their money laid doon, Jaco straight in the till would it pop.

Rum ti iddity, &c.

A Skipper he cam in yen day, He coudent help luiking at Jackey, On the c.o.o.nter his money did lay, Saying, 'Please, sir, an ounce of rag backey!'

His money Jack popt in the till, The Skipper kept luiking at him, A' the time on his seat he sat still, And' he luik'd at the Skipper quite grim.

Rum ti iddity, &c.

'Now pray, sir, will ye bear a hand?

For aw maun be at Sheels now this tide-- Now pray be as sharp as ye can, For wor keel she is at the Keyside;-- Au'd man, are ye deef?' then he cried, An' intiv a pa.s.sion he fell, On the counter lay some ready weigh'd, Says he, 'Smas.h.!.+ but aw'll help mysel!'

Rum ti iddity, &c.

'Then he tuik up an ounce o' rag backey, But afore he cud get turn'd about, Off his seat then upstarted au'd Jackey, An' catch'd him hard fast by the snout; He roar'd and he shouted out 'Murder!'

The Maister he see'd a' the fun, Not wis.h.i.+ng the joke to gan farther, Straight intiv the shop then he run.

Rum ti iddity, &c.

'What's the matter, my canny good man?'

An' he scarcely could keep in the laugh; 'Take this au'd man off me--bear a hand!

For aw think now that's mater aneuf:-- What's the mater, ye ax?--Smas.h.!.+ that's funny!'

(An' he still kept his eye upon Jackey) 'Aw paid yor grandfayther the money, But he'll not let me hae me backey.

Rum ti iddity, &c.

'Now mind ye, maw canny good man, If ever thou c.u.ms in wor keel, For the trick thou hes play'd me the day, Wor Pee Dee shall sobble ye weel; Eh, for a' yor fine claes I'll engage, An' for a' ye're a st.u.r.dy au'd man, Tho' he's n.o.bbut twelve years of age, He shall thresh ye till ye canna gan.

Rum ti iddity, &c.

THE SKIPPER'S DREAM.

T'other day ye mun knaw, wey aw'd had a sup beer; It ran i' maw heed, and myed me sae queer, That aw lay doon to sleep i' wor huddock sae snug, An' dreem'd sic a dreem as gar'd me scart me lug.

Aw dreem'd that the queerest man iver aw see'd, Cam stumping alang wi' three hats on his heed; A goon on like a preest, (mind aw's telling ne lees) An' at his side there was hangin a greet bunch o' kees.

He stares i' maw fyece, and says, 'How d'ye de?'

'Aw's teufish,' says aw, 'canny man, how are ye?'

Then he says, wiv a voice gar'd me trimmle, aw's shure, 'Aw's varry weel, thank ye, but yor day is nigh ower.'

Aw studdies awhile, then says aw, 'Are ye Deeth, Come here for to wise oot a poor fellow's breeth?'

He says, 'No, aw'm the Pope, c.u.m to try if aw can Save a vile wretch like ye, fra the nasty Bad Man.'

He said, yen St. Peter gov him them great keys To let into Hiven wheiver he'd please; An' if aw'd turn Papish, and giv him a Note, He'd send me to Hiven, without ony doot.

Then a yel heep o' stuff he talk'd aboot sin, An' sed he'd forgi' me whativer aw'd deun; An' if that aw'd murther'd byeth fayther and m.u.t.h.e.r, For a five s.h.i.+llin peece, wey, aw might kill me bruther.

Says aw, 'Mister Pope, gi's ne mair o' yur tauk, But oot o' wor huddock aw's beg ye to wauk; An' if ye divent get oot before aw count _Nine_, Byeth ye and yor keys, man, aw'll fling i' the Tyne.'

So aw on tiv me feet wiv a bit iv a skip, For aw ment for to give him an Orangeman's grip; But aw waken'd just then in a terrible stew, An' fand it a dreem as aw've teld ye just now.

THE SKIPPER'S ACCOUNT OF THE ORANGEMEN'S PROCESSION.

Wor keel it lay dry on a sand near the Key, An' it happen'd as how that aw had nowt te de; The bells began ringin just when it struck Ten, An' they sed that it was for the Loyal Orangemen.

Derry down, &c.

Aw on t' the Key iv a deuce iv a hurry, An' brak byeth me s.h.i.+ns c.u.mmin ower a whurry; But aw haddent time to mind them tho' they smarted sare, For the _Purcession_ was just comin oot iv a chare.

Derry down, &c.

Aw thowt that aw'd seen bonny seets i' my time, 'Mang wor lads that are reckon'd the pride o' the Tyne; When they get theirsels drest i' wor heed-meetin day, Wiv a band o' musicianors afore them to play.

Derry down, &c.

But the forst seet aw see'd put maw pipe oot, aw's shure, 'Twas a canny au'd mannie that mairch'd on afore; Wiv a sword iv his hand, a c.o.c.k'd hat on his heed, An' the bonniest new claes on that ever aw see'd.

Derry down, &c.

There was colours, and candles, and gilt things galore, An' things that aw ne'er see'd the like on afore; An' sum douce-leukin cheps that war aw dress'd i' black, But they every yen had a cow's horn on his back.

Derry down, &c.

The fine things they com on se thick and se fast, That aw cuddent tell what was forst or what last; An' aw see'd a queer man that the folks call'd a preest, An' four cheps swettin under a greet goolden kist.

Derry down, &c.

Aw laugh'd, an' aw gurn'd, an' aw gov a greet shoot, An' aw dang a' the bairns an' the au'd wives aboot; But maw booels were put in a dismal confloption, When aw see'd sum cheps c.u.m wiv a bairn's bonny coffin.

Derry down, &c.

Aw was in sad consarnment, as ye may be shure, For a barryin like this, wey aw ne'er see'd afore; For the morners war drest up wiv sashes an' ribbins, An' the band play'd as thof they war gaun tiv a weddin.

Derry down, &c.