Part 1
THE NEWCASTLE SONG BOOK; OR, TYNE-SIDE SONGSTER.
BEING A COLLECTION OF COMIC AND SATIRICAL SONGS,
DESCRIPTIVE OF ECCENTRIC CHARACTERS, AND THE MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF A PORTION OF THE LABOURING POPULATION OF NEWCASTLE AND THE NEIGHBOURHOOD.
CHIEFLY IN THE NEWCASTLE DIALECT.
Illustration
Newcastle upon Tyne:
PRINTED AND SOLD BY W. & T. FORDYCE, No. 15, GREY STREET. 1842.
A period of sixteen years having elapsed since an edition of Local Songs was published in a collective form, and that volume having been for some time out of print, renders almost superfluous any apology in presenting the following collection to the public. During the last few years, so great has been the progress of education amongst the humbler classes of society, that many of those eccentricities so often seized upon by our Local Poets as subjects of humourous satire, are fast disappearing, and ere many more years shall have elapsed, the Songs of our Local Bards will be the only memorials of the peculiar characteristics of this ancient border town.
Should an occasional coarseness of language meet the eye, let not the fastidious reader forget, that such were the modes of expression used by the parties described, and that elegance of language would be as much out of place as are the polished classical sentences of Shenstone's rustics, so often and so justly a theme of censure.
The Publishers beg to tender their best thanks to the several respectable individuals who have so kindly favoured them with the many original pieces which appear in this volume; and regret that the limited space for an address prevents a more personal allusion, than referring the reader to their names in the table of contents.
CONTENTS.
Page.
Acrostic on the Death of Blind Willie, _R. Emery_ 322
Alarm! or, Lord Fauconberg's March, 184
Amphitrite, _R. Gilchrist_ 16
April Gowk; or, The Lovers Alarmed, 299
Baboon _Armstrong_ 23
Barber's News; or, Shields in an Uproar, _J. Shield_ 115
Battle of Spitaloo, 289
Battle on the Shields Railway, 291
Bear Club, _R. Gilchrist_ 328
Beggars' Wedding, 280
Bessy of Blyth, _H. Robson_ 132
Birth-Day of Queen Victoria, _R. Gilchrist_ 325
Billy Oliver's Ramble between Benwell & Newcastle, 23
Blind Willie Singing, _R. Gilchrist_ 104
Blind Willy's Flight _R. Emery_ 210
Blind Willie's Death, 294
Blind Willie's Epitaph, _R. Gilchrist_ 331
Bold Jack of the Journal _H. R._ 244
Bob Cranky's 'Size Sunday, _John Selkirk_ 35
Bob Cranky's Leum'nation Neet, _John Shield_ 37
Bob Cranky's Account of the Ascent of Mr Sadler's Balloon, from Newcastle, Sep. 1, 1815, _W. Midford_ 42
Bob Cranky's Adieu, _John Shield_ 45
Bob Fudge's Postscript 209
Bold Archy and Blind Willie's Lament on the Death of Capt. Starkey, _R. Gilchrist_ 105
Bonassus _Oliver_ 119
Bonny Keel Laddie, 85
Bonny Clock Fyece, 274
Bonny Gyetsiders, _J. Shield_ 87
Bonny Keel Laddie, 40
British Justice; or, Newcastle Privy Court, 170
Broom Busoms 259
Burdon's Address to his Cavalry, _Jas. Morrison_ 101
Canny Newcassel, _T. Thompson_ 5
Canny Sheels, _John Morrison_ 75
Cappy, or the Pitman's Dog, _Wm. Midford_ 19
Changes on the Tyne, 212
Coaly Tyne, 79
Coal Trade, 146
Cobbler o' Morpeth, (_Cholera Morbus_,) _J. M'Lellan_ 73
Collier's Rant, 53
Collier's Keek at the Nation, _R. Gilchrist_ 102
Colliers' Pay Week _H. Robson_ 122
Come up to the Scratch! or, the Pitman Haggished, _R. Emery_ 160
Commit no Nonsense, 282
Cookson's Alkali, 285
Corn Market, a Lament, 269
Coronation Day at Newcastle, 201
Coronation Thursday _W. Midford_ 203
Custom-house Branch, 216
Custom-house Tree, 217
Custom-house Branch, 218
Dance to thy Daddy, _W. Watson_ 261
Death of Bold Archy, _R. Gilchrist_ 330
Do li a, 281
Donocht-Head, _R. Pickering_ 326
Drucken Bella Roy, O!, 272
Duchess and Mayoress 142
Eagle Steam Packet, _Wm. Midford_ 11
Election Day, _W. Watson_ 232
Euphy's Coronation, _Thomas Marshall_ 241
Farewell to the Tyne, _R. Gilchrist_ 140
Famed Filly Fair; or, A Peep into Pilgrim-street, 166
Farewell, Archy!, 175
Fishwives' Complaint _R. Emery_ 71
Friar and the Nun, 263
Gateshead Rads, 230
Geordy's Disaster 296
George the Fourth's Coronation 191
Gipsy's Song, _H. Robson_ 223
Glister _Armstrong_ 10
Golden Horns; or, The General Invitation, 193
Green's Balloon, 97
Greenwives' Lamentation, 70
Half-drowned Skipper, 186
Herbage Committee, _R. Gilchrist_ 327
Humble Petition of the Old House in the Shieldfield to John Clayton, Esq. _R. Gilchrist_ 239
Hydrophobie; or, Skipper and Quaker, _R. Emery_ 63
Invitation to the Mansion-house Dinner in Honour of the Coronation _Armstrong_ 191
Jemmy Joneson's Whurry, _T. Thompson_ 12
Jenny Hoolet: or, Lizzie Mudie's Ghost, _Armstrong_ 9
Jesmond Mill, _Phil. Hodgson_ 139
Jocker _Nunn_ 267
Johnny Sc--tt and Tommy C--rr. A Dialogue, 150
Jossy's Nag's Head, 297
Keel Row (New) _T. Thompson_ 114
Keelman and the Grindstone, _Armstrong_ 64
Kelvin Grove.--The Lassie's Answer, _H. Robson_ 132
Kitty Port Admiral at the Bench, 152
Lass of Wincomblee, 329
Little Pee Dee, 30
Lizzie Liberty, _H. Robson_ 136
Lizzie Mudie's Ghost, _Armstrong_ 9
Local Militia-man, _Wm. Midford_ 92
Lovely Delia 155
Loyal Festivities; or, Novel Scenes at Newcastle, 194
Lukey's Dream, 265
Mary Drue, _T. Houston_ 233
Maw Canny Hinny, 41
Masquerade at Newcastle Theatre, _Wm. Midford_ 94
Mayor of Bourdeaux; or, Mally's Mistake, _do._ 46
Misfortunes of Roger and his Wife, _J. B._ 172
Mechanics' Procession; or, a Trip to South Shields, _R. Emery_ 221
Miraculous Well; or, Newcastle Spaw Water, _R. Emery_ 321
More Innovations, _R. Gilchrist_ 238
Music Hall, 275
My Lord 'Size, _John Shield_ 17
Nancy Wilkinson, _H. Robson_ 96
Nanny of the Tyne _Gibson_ 86
Natural Philosopher; or, The Downfall of the Learned Humbugs!, 229
Newcastle Fair; or, Pitman drinking Jackey, 28
New Keel Row, _T. Thompson_ 55
Newcastle Wonders; or, Hackney Coach Customers, _R. Emery_ 65
Newcassel Races _W. Watson_ 81
Newcastle Signs, _Cecil Pitt_ 89
Newgate-street Petition to Mr. Mayor, 99
Newcassel Props _Oliver_ 110
Newcassel Wonders, 111
Newcastle Subscription Mill, _H. Robson_ 135
New Fish Market, _Wm. Midford_ 137
New Year's Carol for the Fishwives of Newcastle, _M. Ross_ 138
Newcastle Assizes (Duchess _versus_ Mayoress); or, A Struggle for Precedence, 144
Newcastle Hackneys, 157
Newcastle Hackney Coaches _Oliver_ 158
Newcastle Improvements, _R. Charlton_ 159
Newcastle Noodles, _James Morrison_ 168
Newcastle Swineherds Proclamation 191
Newcastle Theatre in an Uproar, 173
Newcastle Worthies, _Wm. Armstrong_ 187
Newcastle in an Uproar; or, George the Fourth's Coronation _W. Midford_ 198
Newcastle Beer _versus_ Spaw Water; or, The Pitman and Temperance Society, _R. Emery_ 303
Newcastle Blunderbuss! or, Travelling Extraordinary, _R. Emery_ 316
Newcastle Old Country Gentleman, 278
Newcastle Landlords, _W. Watson_ 249
New Markets _Oliver_ 211
New Markets; or, Newcastle Improvements, _Midford_ 236
New Nursery Rhyme, 283
New Song for Barge-day, 1835, _R. Gilchrist_ 254
North Shields Song, 282
Northumberland Free o' Newcassel, _R. Gilchrist_ 141
Old Nick's Visit to H-ll's Kitchen, 189
Old and curious Song, on the late Mr. R. Clayton being made an Alderman, 247
On Simpson the Pedestrian's Failure, 181
Opening of the New Markets, 235
Owl _R. Emery_ 153
Oyster-wife's Petition on the Removal of the Oyster-tub from the Quay, _R. Emery_ 257
Paganini, the Fiddler; or, Pitman's Frolic _do._ 256
Pandon Dean, 156
Parody on Billy Oliver's Ramble, 25
Parody, 227
Parson Malthus 129
Peggy's Leg _H. R._ 84
Permanent Yeast _John Morrison_ 76
Peter Watson, _H. Robson_ 133
Petition from the Women of the Vegetable Market to the Mayor of Newcastle, 71
Peter Waggy, _H. Robson_ 131
Picture of Newcastle; or, George the Fourth's Coronation, _Wm. Midford_ 196
Pitman's Revenge against Bonaparte _Shield_ 33
Pitman's Skellyscope, _Wm. Midford_ 39
Pitman's Ramble; or, Newcastle Finery, 77
Pitman's Courtship, _Wm. Midford_ 21
Pitman's Dream; or, a Description of the North Pole, _R. Emery_ 162
Pitman's Dream; or, a Description of the Kitchen, _R. Emery_ 164
Pitman's Pay; or, a Night's Discharge to Care, _Thomas Wilson_ 304
Pitman's Ramble _R. Emery_ 286
Pitman's Visit to Newcastle on Valentine's Day, 317
Politicians, 60
Quack Doctors, 82
Quayside Shaver, _Wm. Stephenson_ 7
Quayside Ditty for February, 1816, 66
Russell the Pedestrian, 180
Sandgate Wife's Nurse Song _Nunn_ 243
Sandgate Pant; or, Jane Jemieson's Ghost, _R. Emery_ 324
Sandgate Lass on the Ropery Banks _Nunn_ 246
Sandgate Lassie's Lament, _H. Robson_ 62
Sandgate Girl's Lamentation, 52
Sandhill Monkey, 56
Shields Soliloquy, 69
Shields Chain Bridge humourously described, _Oliver_ 120
Sir Tommy made an Odd Fellow, _R. Gilchrist_ 176
Skipper's Wedding, _W. Stephenson_ 14
Skipper's Fright _Bailey_ 322
Skipper in the Mist _Armstrong_ 319
Skipper's Account of the Mechanics' Procession, _R. Emery_ 271
Skipper's Mistake _Armstrong_ 301
Skipper's Dream, _T. Moor_ 58
Skipper's Account of the Orangemen's Procession, 59
South Shields Song, 281
Spring, _H. Robson_ 129
Steam Soup; or, Cuckoo Jack's Petition _R. Emery_ 244
Sunderland Jammy's Lamentation, December, 1831, 72
Swalwell Hopping _Selkirk_ 48
St. Nicholas Church, _Nunn_ 254
St. Nicholas' great Bell, 264
Thomas Whittell's Humourous Letter to Mr. Moody, 228
Thumping Luck, _W. Watson_ 260
Till the Tide came in, _H. Robson_ 62
Tim Tunbelly _Oliver_ 112
T--ly's Best Blood, 168
Tom Carr and Waller Watson _Oliver_ 148
Tommy Thompson, _R. Gilchrist_ 140
Tommy C--rr in Limbo _Oliver_ 151
Tyne, _H. Robson_ 128
Tyne, _John Gibson_ 85
Tyne, _J. Wilson_ 277
Tyne Cossacks, _Wm. Midford_ 31
Verses written for the Burns Club, 1817, _H. Robson_ 225
Victory; or, The Captain done over, 182
Voyage to Lunnin, _R. Gilchrist_ 107
Walker Pits, 279
Water of Tyne, 89
Weel may the Keel row, 54
Winlaton Hopping, _John Lennard_ 50
Wonderful Gutter, _Wm. Midford_ 91
Worthy Rector, 288
Wreckenton Hiring, 178
X-Y-Z at Newcastle Races, 1814, _Wm. Midford_ 26
THE TYNE SONGSTER.
CANNY NEWCASSEL.
'Bout Lunnun aw'd heard ay sic wonderful spokes, That the streets were a cover'd wi' guineas: The houses sae fine, an' sic grandees the folks, Te them huz i' the North were but ninnies. But aw fand mawsel blonk'd when to Lunnun aw gat, The folks they a' luik'd wishey washey; For gowd ye may howk till ye're blind as a bat, For their streets are like wors--brave and blashy!
'Bout Lunnun then divent ye myek sic a rout, There's nowse there maw winkers to dazzle: For a' the fine things ye are gobbin about, We can marra iv Canny Newcassel.
A Cockney chep show'd me the Thames druvy fyace, Whilk he said was the pride o' the nation; And thowt at their shippin aw'd myek a haze-gaze; But aw whopt maw foot on his noration. Wi' huz, mun, three hundred ships sail iv a tide, We think nowse on't, aw'll myek accydavy; Ye're a gowk if ye din't knaw that the lads o' Tyneside Are the Jacks that myek famish wor navy. 'Bout Lunnun, &c.
We went big St. Paul's and Westminster to see, And aw war'nt ye aw thought they luick'd pritty: And then we'd a keek at the Monument te; Whilk maw friend ca'd the Pearl o' the City. Wey hinny, says aw, we've a Shot Tower sae hee, That biv it ye might scraffle to heaven; And if on Saint Nicholas ye once cus an e'e, Ye'd crack on't as lang as ye're livin. 'Bout Lunnun, &c.
We trudg'd to St. James's, for there the King leaves, Aw war'nt ye a good stare we teuk on't; By my faicks! it's been built up by Adam's awn neaves, For it's and as the hills, by the luik on't. Shem bin ye! says aw, ye should keep the King douse, Aw speak it without ony malice: Aw own that wor Mayor rather wants a new house, But then--wor Infirm'ry's a palace. 'Bout Lunnun, &c.
Ah hinnies! out com the King, while we were there, His leuks seem'd to say, Bairns, be happy! Sae down o' my hunkers aw set up a blare, For God to preserve him frae Nappy: For Geordy aw'd dee--for my loyalty's trig, And aw own he's a good leuken mannie; But if wor Sir Matthew ye buss iv his wig, By gocks! he wad leuk just as canny. 'Bout Lunnun, &c.
Ah hinnies! about us the lasses did lowp, Thick as cur'ns in a spice singin hinnie; Some aud and some hardly fligg'd ower the dowp, But aw kend what they were by their whinnie: Ah! mannie, says aw, ye hev mony a tight girl, But aw'm tell'd they're oft het i' their tappin: Aw'd cuddle much rather a lass i' the Sworl, Than the dolls i' the Strand, or i' Wappin. 'Bout Lunnun, &c.
Wiv a' the stravaigin aw wanted a munch, An' maw thropple was ready to gizen; So we went tiv a yell-house, and there teuk a lunch, But the reck'ning, me saul, was a bizon. Wiv huz i' the North, when aw'm wairsh i' my way, (But t' knaw wor warm hearts ye yur-sel come) Aw lift the first latch, and baith man and dame say, 'Cruick your hough, canny man, for ye're welcome! 'Bout Lunnun, &c.
A shilling aw thought at the Play-house aw'd ware, But aw jump'd there wiv heuk finger'd people; Me pockets gat ripe'd, an' heerd them na mair Nor aw cou'd frae Saint Nicholas's steeple. Dang Lunnun! wor Play-house aw like just as weel, And wor play-folks aw's sure are as funny; A shillin's worth sarves me to laugh till aw squeel, Nae hallion there thrimmels maw money. 'Bout Lunnun, &c.
The loss o' the cotterels aw dinna regaird, For aw've gettin some white-heft at Lunnun; Aw've learn'd to prefer me awn canny calf-yaird; If ye catch me mair frae't ye'll be cunnun. Aw knaw that the cockneys crack rum-gum-shus chimes To myek gam of wor bur and wor 'parel; But honest Blind Willey shall string this iv rhymes, And we'll sing'd for a Chrissenmas Carol. 'Bout Lunnun, &c.
THE QUAYSIDE SHAVER.
On each market day, sir, the folks to the Quay, sir, Go flocking with beards they have seven days worn, And round the small grate, sir, in crowds they all wait, sir, To get themselves shav'd in a rotative turn. Old soldiers on sticks, sir, about politics, sir, Debate--till at length they quite heated are grown; Nay, nothing escapes, sir, until _Madam Scrape_, sir, Cries, 'Gentlemen, who is the next to sit down?
A medley this place is, of those that sell laces, With fine shirt-neck buttons, and good cabbage nets; Where match-men, at meeting, give each a kind greeting, And ask one another how trade with them sets; Join'd in with _Tom Hoggers_ and little _Bob Nackers_, Who wander the streets in their fuddling jills; And those folks with bags, sir, who buy up old rags, sir, That deal in fly-cages and paper wind mills.
There pitmen, with baskets, and gay posey waistcoats, Discourse about nought but whe puts and hews best; There keelmen just landed, swear, May they be stranded, If they're not shav'd first, while their keel's at the _fest_! With face full of coal dust, would frighten one almost, Throw off hat and wig, while they usurp the chair; While others stand looking, and think it provoking, But, for the insult, to oppose them none dare.
When under the chin, sir, she tucks the cloth in, sir, Their old quid they'll pop in the pea-jacket cuff; And while they are sitting, do nought but keep spitting, And looking around with an air fierce and bluff. Such tales as go round, sir, would surely confound, sir, And puzzle the prolific brain of the wise; But when she prepares, sir, to take off the hairs, sir, With lather she whitens them up to the eyes.
No sooner the razor is laid on the face, sir, Than painful distortions take place on the brow; But if they complain, sir, they'll find it in vain, sir, She'll tell them, 'there's nought but what _Patience_ can do:' And as she scrapes round 'em, if she by chance wound 'em, They'll cry out, as tho' she'd bereav'd them of life, 'Od smash your brains, woman! aw find the blood's comin, Aw'd rather been shav'd with an aud gully knife!'
For all they can say, sir, she still rasps away, sir, And sweeps round their jaws the chop torturing tool; Till they in a pet, sir, request her to whet, sir; But she gives them for answer, 'Sit still, you pist fool!' For all their repining, their twisting and twining, She forward proceeds till she's mown off the hair; When finish'd, cries, 'There, sir!' then straight from the chair, sir, They'll jump, crying, 'Daresay you've scrap'd the bone bare!'
THE JENNY HOOLET;
_Or, Lizzie Mudie's Ghost._
Sum time since a Skipper was gawn iv his keel, His heart like a lion, his fyece like the Deil: He was steering hissel, as he'd oft duin before, When at au'd Lizzie Mudie's his keel ran ashore. Fal de ral la, &c.
The skipper was vext when his keel ran ashore, So for Geordy and Pee Dee he loudly did roar: They lower'd the sail--but it a' waddent dee; Sae he click'd up a coal and maist fell'd the Pee Dee. Fal de ral, &c.
In the midst of their trouble, not knawn what to do, A voice from the shore gravely cried out, 'Hoo Hoo!' How now, 'Mister Hoo Hoo! is thou myekin fun, Or is this the first keel that thou e'er saw agrun?' Fal de ral, &c.
Agyen it cried 'Hoo! Hoo!' the skipper he stampt, And sung out for Geordy to heave out the plank: Iv a raving mad passion he curs'd and he swore, 'Aw'll hoo-hoo thou, thou b--r, when aw cum ashore!' Fal de ral, &c.
Wiv a coal in each hand, ashore then he went, To kill Mister Hoo-hoo it was his intent: But when he gat there, O what his surprize! When back he cam running--'O Geordy!' he cries. Fal de ral, &c.
'Wey, whe dis thou think hes been myekin this gam? Aw'll lay thou my wallet thou'll not guess his nyem;'-- 'Is't the Ghost of au'd Lizzie?'--'O no no, thou fool, it Is nae ghost at all, but--an au'd Jenny Hoolet!' Fal de ral, &c.
THE GLISTER.
Some time since a Pitman was tyen very bad, So caw'd his wife Mall te the side of his bed; 'Thou mun run for a doctor, the forst can be fund, For maw belly's a' wrang, an' aw'm varry fast bund.'
'Wey, man, thou's a fuil, aw ken thou's fast boon, Wi' thy last bindin munny thou bowt this new goon: Nae doctor can lowse thou one morsel or crum, For thou's bun te Tyne Main for this ten month te cum.'
'Aw divent mean that--maw belly's sae sair; Run fast or aw'll dee lang afore ye get there!' So away Mally ran to their awn doctor's shop; 'Gie me somethin for Tom, for his belly's stopt up.'
A glister she gat--and nae langer she'd wait, But straight she ran hyem, an' gat out a clean plate: 'Oh Tommy! maw Tom! ony haud up thy heed! Here's somethin 'ill mend thou, suppose thou was deed.
Thou mun eat up that haggish, but sup the thin forst; Aw's freeten'd that stopple it will be the worst,'-- 'Oh, Mally! thou'll puzzen poor Tom altogether, If aw drink aw the thin, an' then eat up the blether.'
He manag'd it a' wiv a great deal to do; 'Oh, Mally! oh, Mally! thou's puzzen'd me now!' But she tuik nae notice of poor Tommy's pain, But straight she ran off te the doctor's again.
'O doctor! maw hinny! Tom's tyen'd a' thegether, He supp'd up the thin, then he eat up the blether: The blether was tuif, it myest stuck in his thropple; If he haddent bad teeth he wad eaten the stopple.'
'Oh, woman! you have been in too great a hurry, Stead of mending your husband, you'll have him to bury: Stead of making him better, you've sure made him warse, For you've put in his mouth what should gone up his a----e.'
THE EAGLE STEAM PACKET.
Oh, hae ye heard the wond'rous news? To hear me sang ye'll not refuse, Since the new Steam Packet's ta'en a cruise, An' bore away for Sunderland.
The folks cam flocking ower the keels, Betwixt Newcassel Key and Sheels, Before she ply'd her powerful wheels, To work their way to Sunderland.
The sky was clear, the day was fine, Their dress an' luggage all in stile; An' they thought to cut a wond'rous shine, When they got safe to Sunderland.
Now when they to the Pier drew nigh, The guns did fire and streamers fly; In a moment all was hue and cry, Amang the folks at Sunderland.
There was male and female lean an' fat, An' some wi' whiskers like a cat; But a Barber's 'water-proof silk hat' Was thought the tip at Sunderland.
In pleasures sweet they spent the day, The short-liv'd moments wing'd away; When they must haste without delay, To quit the port of Sunderland.
As on the ocean wide they drew, A strong North wind against them blew, And the billows dash'd the windows through: A woeful trip to Sunderland.
Such howlin, screamin rend the sky, All in confusion they did lie, With pain and sickness like to die, They wish'd they'd ne'er seen Sunderland.
A lady lay beside the door, Said she had been at sea before, Where foaming billows loud did roar, But ne'er had been at Sunderland.
She soon amongst the heap was thrown, While here and there they sat alone: Poor Puff had passage up and down, But none could get from Sunderland.
Some in a corner humm'd their prayers, While others choak'd the cabin stairs; And bloody noses, unawares, Were got in sight of Sunderland.
In vain they strove now to proceed, So back again they came with speed; But the passengers were all nigh deed, When they got back to Sunderland.
Now their dresses fine look'd worse than rags, While each a safe conveyance begs, And many had to use their legs, To travel home from Sunderland.
By this affair your reason guide, When on the seas you'd wish to ride, Choose a good strong ship with wind and tide; And so good bye to Sunderland.
JEMMY JONESON'S WHURRY.
The cavers biv the chimlay reek, Begox! its all a horney; For thro' the world aw thowt to keek, Yen day when aw was corney: Sae, wiv some varry canny chiels, All on the hop and murry, Aw thowt aw'd myek a voyge to Shiels, Iv Jemmy Joneson's Whurry.
Ye niver see'd the church sae scrudg'd, As we were there thegither; An' gentle, simple, throughways rudg'd, Like burdies of a feather: BLIND WILLIE, a' wor joys to croon, Struck up a hey down derry, An' crouse we left wor canny toon, Iv Jemmy Joneson's Whurry.
As we push'd off, loak! a' the Key To me seem'd shuggy-shooin; An' tho' aw'd niver been at sea, Aw stuid her like a new-on. An' when the Malls began their reels, Aw kick'd maw heels reet murry; For faix! aw lik'd the voyage to Shiels, Iv Jemmy Joneson's Whurry.
Quick went wor heels, quick went the oars, An' where me eyes wur cassin, It seem'd as if the bizzy shore Cheer'd canny Tyne i' passin. What! hes Newcassel now nae end? Thinks aw it's wond'rous vurry; Aw thowt I'd like me life to spend Iv Jemmy Joneson's Whurry.
Tyneside seem'd clad wiv bonny ha's, An' furnaces sae dunny; Wey this mun be what Bible ca's, 'The land of milk and honey!' If a' thor things belang'd tiv me, Aw'd myek the poor reet murry, An' gar each heart to sing wiv glee, Iv Jemmy Joneson's Whurry.
Then on we went, as nice as ouse, Till nenst au'd Lizzy Moody's; A whirlwind cam an' myed a' souse, Like heaps o' babby boodies. The heykin myed me vurry wauf, Me heed turn'd duzzy, vurry; Me leuks, aw'm shure, wad spyen'd a cauf, Iv Jemmy Joneson's Whurry.