The Newcastle Song Book Part 43

Newcastle men, rejoice! O haste, on this occasion, With many a jovial b.u.mper our whistles let us wet, Lord Eldon, with Sir William Scott, and all our deputation, To toast, with acclamations due, O let us not forget: To them our thanks be tender'd, Good services they've render'd-- And let us hope in after times, should Branch wars rage again, In Newcastle 'twill be found, Such men do then abound, The commercial pre-eminence still boldly to maintain.

Footnote 32: The New Market Place.

THE MECHANICS' PROCESSION;

_Or, A Trip to South s.h.i.+elds_.

Tune--"The Bold Dragoon."

Let gowks about Odd Fellows brag, And Foresters se fine-- Unrivall'd the Mechanics stand, And long will o'er them s.h.i.+ne;-- With belts of blue, and hearts so true, They far outrival every Order-- Their praise is sung by every tongue, Frae Lunnin toon reet ow'r the Border.

Whack, row de dow, &c.

O had you seen our Nelson lads When Nunn[33] brought up the news He said, let us be off to s.h.i.+elds, Our brothers' hearts to rouse; Our Tiler drew his sword, and cried, Let banners wave and loud drums rattle-- Whene'er Mechanics are oppress'd, They'll find us first to fight their battle!

Whack, row de dow, &c.

Three cheers we gave, when Nunn replied, Our ALBION lads do crave, To join the TYNE and COLLINGWOOD, All danger they would brave; And each I. G. wad let them see, Their hearts and souls were in the action, They'd crush a foe at ev'ry blow, Until that they had satisfaction.

Whack, row de dow, &c.

The ardour spread from lodge to lodge, Each brother's heart beat high, And down the Tyne, in steamers fine, On rapid wings they fly;-- 'Mid cannon's roar along the sh.o.r.e, Our band struck up our tunes se merry-- So blythe a crew there's been but few, Since famous Jemmy Johnson's Wherry.

Whack, row de dow, &c.

At s.h.i.+elds we join'd their splendid band, And march'd in fine array-- Throughout the town, we gain'd renown, For such a grand display:-- We smack'd their yell, and wish'd success To each Mechanic's Lodge se clever, And as we left the brothers cried-- O may our Order live for ever!

Whack, row de dow, &c.

Let's drink to all Mechanics true, Upon both sides of Tyne May peace and plenty bless their homes, And round them long entwine;-- To Simpson te, so kind and free, Let's give three cheers as loud as thunder-- Till echo'd back from pole to pole, And all the world admire and wonder!

Whack, row de dow, &c.

Footnote 33: Thomas Nunn, I. G. of the Albion Lodge.

A GIPSY'S SONG.

Here awhile we'll cease from roaming-- Pitch the tents among the broom-- Turn the a.s.ses on the common, And enjoy the afternoon.

Merry shall we be to-day: What is life devoid of pleasure?

Care from us keep far away, While Mirth pursues his sprightly measure.

Place all things in decent order, Budgets, boxes, mugger-ware, And here encamp'd, on England's border, We'll remain till Whitsun Fair.

Ease the brutes of panniers' load-- Let them browse among the heather; Light a fire, and dress some food, And frankly we shall feast together.

And ALLAN,[34] thou shall screw thy drone, And play up 'Maggie Lauder' sweetly, Or 'Money Musk' or 'Dorrington,'

And we will frisk and foot it neatly.

CROWD[35] gain'd applause for many a tune-- Few peer'd him in the High or Lawlan'; But neither he nor SANDY BROWN[36]

Could trill a note like JEMMY ALLAN.

E'en BLAW-LOUD w.i.l.l.y'S[37] Border airs, Nor gay nor daft could please the dancer; But aye to Allan's lilts, at fairs, The very feet themselves would answer.

Each lad shall take his fav'rite la.s.s, And dance with her till she be weary, And warm her with the whisky gla.s.s, And kiss and hug his nut-brown deary.

And when of mirth we've had our will, Upon the sward love shall entwine us; Our plighted vows we'll then fulfill, Without a canting priest to join us.

And when we go our country rounds, Some trinkets selling, fortunes telling-- Some tink'ring, cooping, casting spoons, We'll still obtain the ready s.h.i.+lling.

Unto the farm-steads we can hie, Whene'er our stock of food grows scanty, And from the hen-roost, bin, or sty, We'll aye get fresh supplies in plenty.

And when the shepherd goes to sleep, And on the fell remains the flock, We'll steal abroad among the sheep, And take a choice one from the stock.

The clergy take the tenth of swine, Potatoes, poultry, corn, and hay-- Why should not gipsies, when they dine, Have a t.i.the-pig as well as they?

We wish not for great store of wealth, Nor pomp, nor pride, nor costly dainty; While blest with liberty and health, And competence--then we have plenty.

Merry shall we be to-day: What is life devoid of pleasure?

Care from us keep far away, While Mirth pursues his sprightly measure.

H. R.

Footnote 34: James Allan, the celebrated Northumberland bagpiper.

Footnote 35: A vagrant piper, who often travelled with gipsies.

Footnote 36: About 45 years ago, a poem appeared in a Kelso newspaper, wherein this person was respectfully noticed, as follows:--

"They brought the piper, Sandy Brown, Frae Jedburgh to Lochmaben town; Though whaisling sair and broken down Auld Sandy seem'd, His chanter for a pleasing sound Was still esteem'd."

Footnote 37: An unskilful performer on the bagpipes, who attended the different fairs held in Northumberland.

VERSES WRITTEN FOR THE BURNS' CLUB,

Held at Mr. Wallace's, Nag's Head, Newcastle, Jan. 1817.

The rolling year at length brings forth The day that gave our poet birth: O Burns! to testify thy worth, We're hither met-- Nae genius i' the South, or North Can match thee yet.

Of ither's rhymes we have enow, But sic as thine are rare and few-- For aye to nature thou wert true, Thou bard divine!