The Newcastle Song Book Part 15

A fellow wiser than the rest, Soon found out it had been the yeast: Wi' walking Jack had made it work, The bullet only was the cork.

Fal de ral la, &c.

Now Jackey finding his mistake, He thought the best plan he could take Was to be off--he seiz'd his hat, And ran hyem like a scadded cat.

Fal de ral la, &c.

THE PITMAN'S RAMBLE;

_Or, Newcastle Finery,_

Ho! lizzen, aw ye neybors roun, Yor clappers haud and pipes lay doon; Aw've had a swagger through the toon, Yen morning aw went suen ti'd.

Ye see, aw fand aw wasn't thrang, Sae to Newca.s.sel aw wad gang: Aw's lap't a' up, just like a sang, And try to put a tune ti'd.

Bad times they'e now, yen weel may say; Aw've seen when on a market day, Wiv wor toon's cheps aw'd drink away, And carry on the war, man: But now yen staups an' stares aboot, To see what's strange to carry oot; Bra.s.s letters fa.s.sen'd on a cloot, A unicorn, or star, man.

Ye see, aw thowt they were to sell; So ax'd the chep, if he cud tell, What he wad tyek for C and L, To nail upon maw hen hoose; But he insisted, smash his crop!

Aw'd like a fule mistyen the shop; And bad me quickly off te hop, He'd bowt them for his awn use.

He flang maw hump sae out o' joint, Sae, smas.h.!.+ aw thowt aw'd hev a pint!

But when aw gat te Peterpoint, The chep that sells the candy, The folks luik'd in wiv greedy wish, He'd bonny siller in a dish; And just abuin, twee bits o' fish Was sweeming, fine as can be.

The tyen was like Hob Fewster's cowt, A' spreckled round about the snout, They flapp'd their tails aboot like owt, Quite full o' gamalerie: And then the munny s.h.i.+n'd sae breet, The greet Tom Cat wad hev a peep, And paunder'd tiv he fell asleep; The silly thing was weary.

Sae farther up aw teuk my cruize, And luik'd amang the buits and shoes; Where yen aw thowt they did ill use, It sweem'd, aye, like a daisy: Says aw, How! man, what's thou aboot?

Weyu'c.u.m and tyek that slipper oot; Tho's flay'd away the sammun trout: Says he, Young man, thou's crazy!

Had aw not been a patient chap, Aw wad hae fetch'd him sike a rap, As that which daver'd poor au'd Cap:[2]

But, faith! the Kitty scar'd me: Sae whisht aw grew; for, efter that, Iv a lairge gla.s.s bowl, byeth round and flat, Aw spied a maccaroni hat, But at maw peril dar'd me.

Sae, efter dark, up Pilgrim-street, The fine Gas Leeters s.h.i.+n'd sae breet, That if a bonny la.s.s ye meet, Ye'd ken her varry features: When pipes are laid, and a' things duen, They say Newca.s.sel, varry suen, Will darken, aye, the varry muin, A' wi' thor fine Gas Leeters.

Footnote 2: Alluding to the song call'd 'Cappy, or the Pitman's Dog.'--See page 19.

COALY TYNE.

Tyne River, running rough or smooth, Makes bread for me and mine; Of all the rivers, north or south, There's none like coaly Tyne.

So here's to coaly Tyne, my lads, Success to coaly Tyne, Of all the rivers, north or south, There's none like coaly Tyne.

Long has Tyne's swelling bosom borne Great riches from the mine, All by her hardy sons uptorn-- The wealth of coaly Tyne.

Our keelmen brave, with laden keels, Go sailing down in line, And with them load the fleet at s.h.i.+elds, That sails from coaly Tyne.

When Bonaparte the world did sway, Dutch, Spanish, did combine; By sea and land proud bent their way, The sons of coaly Tyne.

The sons of Tyne, in seas of blood, Trafalgar's fight did join, When led by dauntless Collingwood, The hero of the Tyne.

With courage bold, and hearts so true, Form'd in the British line; With Wellington, at Waterloo, Hard fought the sons of Tyne.

When peace, who would be Volunteers?

Or Hero Dandies fine?

Or sham Hussars, or Tirailleurs?-- Disgrace to coaly Tyne.

Or who would be a Tyrant's Guard, Or s.h.i.+eld a libertine?

Let Tyrants meet their due reward, Ye sons of coaly Tyne.

NEWCa.s.sEL RACES.

It's hae ye heard the ill that's duen?

Or hae ye lost? or hae ye won?

Or hae ye seen what mirth and fun, At fam'd Newca.s.sel Races, O?

The weather fine, and folks sae gay, Put on their best, and bent their way To the Town Moor, to spend the day, At fam'd Newca.s.sel Races, O.

There shows of all sorts you may view; Polito's grand collection too; Such noise and din and lilli-bulloo, At fam'd Newca.s.sel Races, O.

There some on horses sat astride, And some in gigs did snugly ride, With smart young wenches by their side; Look'd stilish at the Races, O.

A Tailor chep aw chanc'd to spy, Was sneekin through the crowd sae sly, For he'd tyen the darling of his eye, To swagger at the Races, O.

He says, My dear, we'll see the show, Egad! says she, I do not know, It looks so vulgar and so low, We'd better see the Races, O.

One Buck cries, Demme, go the rig!

Got two smart la.s.ses in a gig; He crack'd his whip, and look'd quite big, While swagg'rin at the Races, O.

But soon, alas! the gig upset, An ugly thump they each did get; Some say, that he his breeches wet, For fear, when at the Races, O.

The one was lyem'd abuin the knee, The other freeten'd desp'rately; "This demm'd unlucky job!" says she, "Has fairly spoil'd my Races, O!"

He gat them in, wi' some delay, And te Newca.s.sel bent his way; But oft, indeed, he curs'd the day, That e'er he'd seen the Races, O.

Now some were singin songs so fine, And some were lying drunk like swine, Some drank porter, others wine; Rare drinkin at the Races, O!

The wanton wags in corners sat, Wiv bonny la.s.ses on their lap; And mony a yen gat t.i.t for tat, Before they left the Races, O.

Now lads and la.s.ses myed for toon, And in the road they oft lay doon; Faith! mony a la.s.sie spoil'd her goon, A comin frae the Races, O: Some gat hyem, midst outs and ins, Some had black eyes and broken s.h.i.+ns, And some lay drunk amang the whins, A comin frae the Races, O:

Let every one his station mense, By acting like a man of sense-- 'Twill save him mony a pund expense, When he gans te the Races, O.

Kind friends, I would you all advise, Good counsel ye should ne'er despise, The world's opinion always prize, When ye gan to the Races, O.