Part 4

Not a word was there heurd, a' eyes were a starin, For the off ganen moment was near: To see sic a crowd se whisht was amazen, Aw thowt aw fand palish and queer. After waitin a wee, aw see'd him come to, Shaken hands, as aw thowt, wiv his friend; Of his mountin the corf aw had a full view, As he sat his ways down at the end.

The ropes were then cut, and upwards he went, A wavin his flag i' the air; Ev'ry heed was turn'd up, and a' eye's wur intent On this comical new flying chair: It went it's ways up like a lavrick sae hee, Till it luckt 'bout the size of a skyate; When in tiv a cloud it was lost t' the e'e, Aw wisht the man better i' fate.

BOB CRANKY'S ADIEU.

Fareweel, fareweel, maw comely pet! Aw's forc'd three weeks to leave thee; Aw's doon for _par'ment duty_ set, O dinna let it grieve thee! Maw hinny! wipe them een, sae breet, That mine wi' love did dazzle; When tha' heart's sad can mine be leet? Come, ho'way get a gill o' beer, Thee heart te cheer: An' when thou sees me mairch away, Whiles in, whiles oot O' step, nae doot, 'Bob Cranky's gane,' thou'lt sobbing say, 'A sowgering to Newcassel!'

Come, dinna, dinna whinge an' whipe, Like yammering Isbel Macky; Cheer up, maw hinny! leet thee pipe, An' tyek a blast o' backy! It's but for yen an' twenty days, The folks's een aw'll dazzle.-- Prood, swagg'ring i' maw fine reed claes: Ods heft! maw pit claes--dis thou hear? Are warse o' wear; Mind cloot them weel, when aw's away; An' a posie goon Aw'll buy thee soon, An' thou's drink thy tea--aye, twice a-day, When aw cum frae Newcassel.

Becrike! aw's up tiv every rig, Sae dinna doot, maw hinny! But at the _blue styen_ o' the Brig Aw'll hae maw mairchin ginny. A guinea! wuks! sae strange a seet Maw een wi' joy wad dazzle; But aw'll hed spent that varry neet For money, hinny! ower neet to keep, Wad brick maw sleep: Sae, smash! aw think't a wiser way, Wi' flesh an' beer Mesel to cheer, The lang three weeks that aw've to stay A sowgering at Newcassel.

But whisht! the Sairjeant's tongue aw hear, 'Fa' in! fa' in!' he's yelpin: The fifes are whusslin loud and clear, And sair the drums they're skelpin. Fareweel, maw comely! aw mun gang The Gen'ral's een to dazzle! But, hinny! if the time seems lang, An' thou freets about me neet and day; Then come away, Seek out the yell-house where aw stay, An' we'll kiss and cuddle; An' mony a fuddle Sall drive the langsome hours away, When sowgering at Newcassel.

THE MAYOR OF BOURDEAUX;

_Or, Mally's Mistake._

As Jackey sat lowsin his buttons, And rowlin his great backey chow, The bells o' the toon 'gan to tinkle; Cries Mally, What's happen'd us now? Ho! jump and fling off thy au'd neet-cap, And slip on thy lang-quarter'd shoes, Ere thou gets hauf way up the Key, Ye'll meet sum that can tell ye the news. Fol de rol, &c.

As Mally was puffin an' runnin, A gentleman's flonkey she met; 'Canny man, ye mun tell us the news, Or ye'll set wor au'd man i' the pet.' The Mayor of Bourdeaux, a French noble, Has com'd to Newcassel with speed: To neet he sleeps sound at wor Mayor's, And to morn he'll be at the Queen's Heed. Fol de rol, &c.

Now Mally thank'd him wiv a curtsey, And back tiv her Jackey did prance: 'Mary Mordox, a fine Fitter's Leydy's Com'd ower in a coble frae France.' 'Mary Mordox, a fine Fitter's Leydy! Ise warrant she's some frolicksome jade, And com'd to Newcassel for fashions, Or else to suspect the Coal Trade.' Fol de rol, &c.

So to Peter's thou's gan i' the mornin, Gan suin an' thou'll get a good pleyce; If thou canna get haud of her paw, Thou mun get a guid luick at her fyece: And if ye can but get a word at her, And mind now ye divent think shem, Say, 'Please, ma'm, they ca' my wife Mary, Wor next little bairn's be the syem.' Fol de rol, &c.

So betimes the next mornin he travels, And up to the Queen's Head he goes, Where a skinny chep luik'd frev a winder, Wi' white powther'd wig an' lang nose: A fine butterflee coat wi' gowld buttons, A' man! how the folks did hurro; Aw thowt he'd fled from some toy-shop i' Lunnin, Or else frae sum grand wax-work show. Fol de rol, &c.

Smash! Mally, ye've tell'd a big lee, For a man's not a woman, aw'll swear: But he hardly had spoken these words, Till out tumbled a cask o' strang beer: Like a cat Jackey flang his leg ower, Ay, like Bacchus he sat at his ease, Tiv aw's fuddled, odsmash! ye may tauk Yor French gabberish as lang as ye please. Fol de rol, &c.

They crush'd sair, but Jack never minded, Till wi' liquor he'd lowsen'd his bags; At last a great thrust dang him ower, He lay a' his lang length on the flags: Iv an instant Mall seiz'd his pea jacket, Says she, is thou drunk, or thou's lyem? The Mayors o' wor box! smash, aw'm fuddled! O Mally, wilt thou lead me hyem. Fol de rol, &c.

SWALWELL HOPPING.

Lads! myek a ring, An' hear huz sing The sport we had at Swalwell, O; Wor merry play. O' the Hoppen day, Ho'way, marrows! an' aw'll tell ye, O. The sun shines warm on Whickham bank, Let's a' lie doon at Dolly's, O; An' hear 'bout mony a funny prank, Play'd by the lads at Crowley's, O.

There was Sam, O zoons! Wiv's pantaloons, An' gravat up ower his gobby, O; An' Willy, thou, Wi' the jacket blue, Thou was the varry Bobby, O: There was knack knee'd Mat, wiv's purple suit, An' hopper-a-s'd Dick, a' yellow, O: Great Tom was there, wi' H----ple's au'd coat, An' buck-sheen'd Bob frae Stella, O.

When we wor drest, It was confest We shem'd the cheps frae Newcassel, O: So away we set To wor toon gyet, To jeer them a' as they pass'd us, O: We shouted some, and some dung down; Lobstrop'lus fellows, we kick'd them, O: Some culls went hyem, some crush'd to toon, Some gat aboot by Whickham, O.

The spree com on-- The hat was won By carrot-pow'd Jenny's Jackey, O: What a fyace, begok! Had muckle-mouth'd Jock, When he twin'd his jaws for the backy, O! The kilted lasses fell tid, pell mell, Wi' 'Talli-i-o the grinder,' O-- The smock was gi'en to slavering Nell, Ye'd dropp'd had ye been behind her, O.

Wor dance began Wi' buck-tyuth'd Nan, An' Geordy, thou'd Jen Collin, O; While the merry Black, Wi' mony a crack, Set the tamboureen a rolling, O. Like wor forge-hammer we bet sae true, An' shuk Raw's house sae soundly, O: Tuff canna cum up wi' Crowley's Crew, Nor thump the tune sae roundly, O.

Then Gyetside Jack, Wiv's bloody back, Wad dance wi' goggle-eye'd Mally, O: But up cam Nick An' gav him a kick, And a canny bit kind of a fally, O: That day a' Hawks's Blacks may rue,-- They gat mony a varry sair clanker, O: Can they de owse wi' Crowley's Crew, Frev a needle tiv an anchor, O?

What's that to say To the bonny fray We had wi' skipper Robin, O? The keel bullies a', Byeth greet an' sma', Myed a b----rly tide o' the hoppen, O. Gleed Will cried, _Ma-a_! up lup au'd Frank, An' Robin, that marry'd his dowter, O: We hammer'd their ribs like an anchor shank; They fand it six weeks efter, O.

Bald pyat Jone Carr Wad hev a bit spar, To help his marrows away wid, O; But poor au'd fellow, He'd getten ower mellow, So we doon'd byth him and Davy, O: Then Petticoat Robin jump'd up agyen, Wiv's gully to marcykree huz a' But Willanton Dan laid him flat wiv a styen: Hurrah! for Crowley's Crew, boys, a'!

Their hash was sattled, So off they rattled, An' we jigg'd it up sae hearty, O. Wi' mony a shiver, An' lowp sae cliver, Can Newcassel turn out sic a party, O? When, wheit dyun ower, the fiddlers went, We stagger'd a hint sae merry, O; An thro' wor toon, till fairly spent, Roar'd--Crowley's Crew an' glory, O!

WINLATON HOPPING.

Ye sons of glee come join with me, Ye who love mirth and toping, O, You'll ne'er refuse to hear my muse Sing of Winlaton fam'd Hopping, O, To Tenche's Hotel let's retire, To tipple away so neatly, O: The fiddle and song you'll sure admire, Together they sound so sweetly, O. Tal lal la, &c.

With box and die you'll Sammy spy, Of late Sword-dancers' Bessy, O-- All patch'd and torn with tail and horn, Just like a De'il in dressy, O: But late discharg'd from that employ, This scheme popp'd in his noddle, O; Which fill'd his little heart with joy, And pleas'd blithe Sammy Doddle, O.

Close by the stocks, his dies and box He rattled away so rarely, O; Both youth and age did he engage, Together they play'd so cheerly, O: While just close by the sticks did fly At spice on knobs of woody, O: 'How! mind my legs!' the youngsters cry, 'Wey, man, thou's drawn the bloody!' O.

Rang'd in a row, a glorious show Of spice, and nuts for cracking, O; With handsome toys for girls and boys, Grac'd Winlaton fam'd Hopping, O. Each to the stalls led his dear lass, And treat her there so sweetly, O; Then straight retire to drink a glass, An' shuffle an' cut so neatly, O.

Ye men so wise who knowledge prize, Let not this scene confound ye, O; At Winship's door might ye explore The world a' running round ye, O: Blithe boys and girls on horse and chair, Flew round without e'er stopping, O; Sure Blaydon Races can't compare With Winlaton fam'd Hopping, O.

The night came on, with dance and song, Each public-house did jingle, O; All ranks did swear to banish Care, The married and the single, O: They tript away till morning light, Then slept sound without rocking, O; Next day got drunk in merry plight, And jaw'd about the Hopping, O.

At last dull Care his crest did rear, Our heads he sore did riddle, O; Till Peacock drew his pipes and blew, And Tenche he tun'd his fiddle, O; Then Painter Jack he led the van, The drum did join in chorus, O,-- The old and young then danc'd and sung, Dull Care fled far before us, O.

No courtier fine, nor grave divine, That's got the whole he wishes, O, Will ever be so blithe as we, With all their loaves and fishes, O: Then grant, O Jove! our ardent prayer, And happy still you'll find us, O;-- Let pining Want and haggard Care, A day's march keep behind us, O.

THE SANDGATE GIRL'S LAMENTATION.

I was a young maiden truly, And lived in Sandgate-street; I thought to marry a good man, To keep me warm at neet. Some good-like body, some bonny body, To be with me at noon; But last I married a keelman, And my good days are done.

I thought to marry a parson, To hear me say my prayers; But I have married a keelman, And he kicks me down the stairs. He's an ugly body, a bubbly body, An ill-far'd ugly loon; And I have married a keelman, And my good days are done.

I thought to marry a dyer, To dye my apron blue; And I have married a keelman, And he makes me sorely rue. He's an ugly body, a bubbly body, An ill-far'd ugly loon; And I have married a keelman, And my good days are done.

I thought to marry a joiner, To make me chair and stool; But I have married a keelman, And he's a perfect fool. He's an ugly body, a bubbly body, An ill-far'd ugly loon; And I have married a keelman, And my good days are done.

I thought to marry a sailor, To bring me sugar and tea; But I have married a keelman, And that he lets me see. He's an ugly body, a bubbly body, An ill-far'd ugly loon; And I have married a keelman, And my good days are done.

THE COLLIER'S RANT.

As me and my marrow was gannin to wark, We met wi' the De'il, it was in the dark; I up wi' my pick, it being in the neet, And knock'd off his horns, likewise his club feet.

Follow the horses, Johnny, my lad, oh! Follow them through, my canny lad, oh! Follow the horses, Johnny, my lad, oh! Oh, lad, lie away, canny lad, oh!

As me and my marrow was putting the tram, The lowe it went oot, and my marrow went wrang; You would have laugh'd had you seen the gam, The de'il gat my marrow, but I gat the tram. Follow the horses, &c.

Oh, marrow! oh, marrow! what dost thou think? I've broken my bottle and spilt a' my drink; I've lost a' my shin-splints amang the greet stanes, Draw me to the shaft, it's time to gan hame. Follow the horses, &c.

Oh, marrow! oh, marrow! where hest thou been? Driving the drift frae the low seam, Driving the drift frae the low seam: Haud up the lowe, lad! de'il stop oot thy een! Follow the horse, &c.

Oh, marrow! oh, marrow! this is wor pay week, We'll get penny loaves, and drink to our beek; And we'll fill up our bumper, and round it shall go, Follow the horses, Johnny lad, oh! Follow the horses, &c.

There is me horse, and there is me tram; Twee horns full of greese will myek her to gan; There is me hoggers, likewise me half shoon, And smash me heart! marrow, me putting's a' done! Follow the horses, &c.

WEEL MAY THE KEEL ROW.

As I cam thro' Sandgate, thro' Sandgate, thro' Sandgate, As I cam thro' Sandgate, I heard a lassie sing, Weel may the keel row, the keel row, the keel row, Weel may the keel row, that my laddie's in.

He wears a blue bonnet, blue bonnet, blue bonnet, He wears a blue bonnet, a dimple in his chin: And weel may the keel row, the keel row, the keel row, And weel may the keel row that my laddie's in.

THE NEW KEEL ROW.

Whe's like my Johnny, Sae leish, sae blithe, sae bonny? He's foremost 'mang the mony Keel lads o' Coaly Tyne; He'll set or row sae tightly, Or in the dance sae sprightly, He'll cut and shuffle sightly: 'Tis true--were he not mine.

Weel may the keel row, The keel row, the keel row, Weel may the keel row, That my laddie's in: He wears a blue bonnet, A bonnet, a bonnet, He wears a blue bonnet, A dimple in his chin.

He's nae mair o' learning, Than tells his weekly earning, Yet reet frae wrang discerning, Tho' brave, nae bruiser he: Tho' he no worth a plack is, His awn coat on his back is, And nyen can say that black is The white o' Johnny's e'e. Weel may the keel row, &c.

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 lass 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! God 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 coonter 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 coonter 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 passion he fell, On the counter lay some ready weigh'd, Says he, 'Smash! 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 wishing 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?--Smash! 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 cums 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 sturdy au'd man, Tho' he's nobbut 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, cum 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 muther, For a five shillin 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 shins cummin 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 cock'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 cum 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.

Aw says tiv a man, says aw, 'Sor, if ye please, Can ye tell us whe's deed?' an' he civilly says, 'Whe's deed aw divent knaw, but as far as aw reckin, It's the De'il or yen Pop that they hev i' thon coffin.' Derry down, &c.

Aw met wor Pee Dee when aw gat tiv the jail, He says, 'Let's intiv the chorch, can ye clim o'er the rail? For there's lasses wi' fine Orange ribbins gaen in, An' that hatchet-fyec'd wife says they're gannin te sing. Derry down, &c.

Aw says te the lad. 'Aw's be in iv a crack!' But a cunstibbel says, 'Man! yor fyece is se black, That if ye gan in--it's the truth aw declare, Ye'll be taen for Au'd Nick, and they'll barry ye there. Derry down, &c.