The Newcastle Song Book Part 57

Upon this the pollisman gave Jemmy a push, And into the station-house all made a rush, And Dobson, noo seeing his friend in such guise, Jump'd out of the carriage, and went in likewise.

But he gat a blow from a wooden hand, That made him quite sick, and he could not stand, And then cam another sic skelp on the hede, Had his sconce not been thick he wad hae been dede,

Now, Dobson at yen time was very handy, And at schule he payed Tinley of s.h.i.+elds, the great dandy, And although he now had come to such skaith, Cried, "Lay by your wood hands and I'll lick ye baith."

But the pollismen said, "Ye baith prisoners are, And to s.h.i.+elds ye mun gan, as it's not varry far;"

And though now they began to be sick of the lark, To s.h.i.+elds they teun were, though it was efter dark.

There they saw Mr. Cruddas and Inspector Scott, The hede of the pollis, wha pitied their lot, And releas'd and sent them hyem somewhat muddy-- Poor Dobson the warst--he was baith sair and b.l.o.o.d.y.

The next day, each yen to his 'torney went, The yen to Parce Fenwick, the other the Sargent, Crowner Stoker, whe's spectacles myeks him far-seeted-- He's a h-ll of a fellow for getting folk reeted.

A summons they gat--the men cuddent be seen, The directors detarmin'd the villains to screen, And what was still wa.r.s.e, and to save their mutton, Young Tinley tell'd Jackson, they had gone a shutten.

Noo, as the summons cuddent be sarv'd, And the pollismen punish'd as they deserv'd, A warran was getten, and Newton, Allan, and all Were suin in the cellars beneath the Moot-hall.

Noo the justices sat, to hear what they had to say, And twe cam frae s.h.i.+elds, for to see fair play; And William Branlen sat on the bench, Besides Sandy Ildertan, whe still likes a w--ch.

There was doctors, and lawyers, and pollismen too, And of railway directors there was not a few, Including d.i.c.k Spoor, whe yence din'd with the queen-- Sic a crew in the jury-room never was seen.

Noo the crowner began, and he made a good speech, Call'd Archbold and Dobson, and, lastly, the Leech, Whe bound Dobson's hede, yen Mr. John Lang, Not "the family surgeon," but a rhyme for my sang.

When Archbold was called, he said, with much grace, That Newton held the lanthorn reet in his fyece, And spoke in a manner baith rude and absord To the town-councillor for St. Andrew's West Ward.

Next Dobson appears with his b.l.o.o.d.y claes, His hede all bund up, luiking pale, and he says, As how nyen o' them had getten ower much drink, As Torney Tinley wanted the justice to think.

Now the crowner being ended, t'other side did begin, And Tinley he vapour'd, and they swore thick and thin; But aw'll say ne mair, lest you should be bor'd, But merely relate, that Jack Tinley was floor'd.

And the justices said, 'twas a shem the directors Should set twe sic blackguards on the line for inspectors, And, addressing them byeth, said unto the men, Yer byeth fined--Allan five pounds, and you, Newton, ten.

Noo, when aw seed the way the thing went, Thinks aw, the directors are surely content, And will myek the cheps 'mends, from the way they've been tret, But the warst of my story it is to come yet.

Ne suiner was't knawn what the verdict was, Than the railway attorney, he out with the bra.s.s, And, flinging it doon, said, "Much good may it do yee!

Gie me a resait, and set wor pollismen free."

Noo sic wark as this, it is varry shocken, Folks canna gan te s.h.i.+elds without hevin their hedes brocken, And aw've myed up ma mind, if aw's not in a hurry, Te gan in Mitch.e.l.l's fine boats, or Johnson's fam'd whurry.

_Folly Wharf, Nov. 35, 1839._

BLIND WILLIE'S DEATH.[48]

Tune--"Jemmy Joneson's Whurry."

As aw was gannin' up the Side, Aw met wi' drucken Bella; She wrung her hands, and sair she cried, He's gyen at last, poor fellow!

O, hinny Bella! whe is't that's gyen?

Ye gar my blood run chilly.

Wey, hinny, deeth has stopt the breath O' canny awd Blind Willie.

G.o.d keep us, Bella, is that true!

Ye shurely are mistaken?

O, no! aw've left him just a-now, And he's as deed as bacon.

Aw tied his chaffs, and laid him out-- His flesh just like a jelly-- And sair, sair aw was put about For canny awd Blind Willie.

Then off went aw as fast as owt, Ti see poor Willie lyin';-- When aw gat there, maw heart was sair, Ti see his friends a' sighin'.

Around his bed they hung their heeds, Just like the droopin' lily; And aw, with them, did dee the syem For canny awd Blind Willie.

Ne mair, said aw, we'll hear him sing, Ne mair he'll play the fiddle; Ne mair we'll hear him praise the king-- No! No! cried Jimmy Liddle.

The days are past--he's gyen, at last, Beside his frind, Sir Billy, That parish chiel', that preach'd se weel-- We'll mourn for him and Willie.

His bonny corpse crowds cam to see, Which myed the room luik dowly; And whe was there amang them, tee, But noisy Yella Yowley; She through the crowd did crush her way-- Wi' drink she seem'd quite silly-- And on her knees began to pray For canny awd Blind Willie.

They tell'd us a' to gang away, Which myed us varry sorry; But Beagle Bet wad kiss his lips, Before they did him bury.

He's buried now--he's out o' seet-- Then on his grave se hilly, Let them that feel take their fareweel O' canny awd Blind Willie.

Footnote 48: Died July 20, 1832.

GEORDY'S DISASTER.

Sum time since a s.h.i.+p that was tyken in coal, At a place at North s.h.i.+elds they ca' Peggy's Hole, And the keels a' the neet wad lie alangside, To be ready next morn to gan up wi' the tide.

Fal, lal, &c.

Noo yen o' the skippers had sie fish-huiks o' claws, That deil a bit rope cud be kept frae his paws; For as sune as the men were a' gyen to sleep, Then on board o' the s.h.i.+p wor Geordy wad creep.

Fal, lal, &c.

And devil a thing could be left on the deck, But Geordy, as sure as a gun, wad it neck, And into the huddock wad stow it away, And gan off to the rope-shop, and sell it next day.

Fal, lal, &c.

Noo the mate o' the s.h.i.+p was determin'd to watch, To see if he cuddent the thievish rogue catch,-- So to hev a bit fun, an' to give him a freet, He swore he wad sit up the whole o' that neet.

Fal, lal, &c.

So he gat a lang gun, and for to begin, A greet clot o' blud and sum poother pat in; Noo he dident wait lang, for sune ower the bows I' the muinleet he saw him creep up like a moose.

Fal, lal, &c.

He click'd up a bucket, and was gawn wiv his prize, When the mate he let flee reet between his twe eyes.

When the skipper found blud all over his fyece, "Aw's deed!" out he roars, and dropp'd down in the place.

Fal, lal, &c.

Noo the Pee-dee he heard the crack o' the gun, So he speal'd up the side, and tiv Geordy he run: "Oh, Geordy! Oh Geordy! just haud up thy heed, An' tell us, maw hinny, if thou hez gyen deed!"

Fal, lal, &c.

The skipper he groan'd, and kick'd up his heels, "Gude bye, canny Pee-dee! Gude bye tiv maw keels!