The Newcastle Song Book Part 22

THE KEEL ROW.

Weel may the keel row, the keel row, the keel row, Weel may the keel row, and better may she speed: Weel may the keel row, the keel row, the keel row, Weel may the keel row, that gets the bairns their breed.

We teuk wor keel up to the d.y.k.e, Up to the d.y.k.e, up to the d.y.k.e, We teuk wor keel up to the d.y.k.e, And there we gat her load; Then sail'd away down to s.h.i.+elds, Down to s.h.i.+elds, down to s.h.i.+elds, Then sail'd away down to s.h.i.+elds, And s.h.i.+pp'd wor coals abroad.

Singing--Weel may the keel row, &c.

Then we row'd away up to the fest, Up to the fest, up to the fest, We row'd away up to the fest, Cheerly every man; Pat by wor gear and moor'd wor keel, And moor'd wor keel, and moor'd wor keel, Pat by wor gear and moor'd wor keel, Then went and drank wor can, Singing--Weel may the keel row, &c.

Our canny wives, our clean fireside, Our bonny bairns, their parents' pride, Sweet smiles that make life smoothly glide, We find when we gan hyem: They'll work for us when we get au'd, They'll keep us frae the winter's cau'd; As life declines they'll us uphaud-- When young we uphaud them.

Weel may the keel row, &c.

THE BARBER'S NEWS;

_Or, s.h.i.+elds in an Uproar._

Great was the consternation, amazement, and dismay, sir, Which both in North and South s.h.i.+elds, prevail'd the other day, sir; Quite panic-struck the natives were, when told by the Barber, That a terrible Sea Monster had got into the harbour.

"Have you heard the news, sir?" What news, pray, Master Barber?

"Oh a terrible Sea Monster has got into the harbour!"

Now each honest man in s.h.i.+elds--I mean both North and South, sir, Delighting in occasions to expand their eyes and mouth, sir: And, fond of seeing marv'lous sights, ne'er staid to get his beard off; But ran to view the Monster, its arrival when he heard of.

Oh! who could think of shaving when inform'd by the Barber, That a terrible Sea Monster had got into the harbour.

Each wife pursu'd her husband, and every child its mother, Lads and la.s.ses, helter skelter, scamper'd after one another; Shopkeepers and mechanics too, forsook their daily labours, And ran to gape and stare among their gaping, staring neighbours.

All crowded to the river side, when told by the Barber, That a terrible Sea Monster had got into the harbour.

It happens very frequently that Barber's news is fiction, sir, But the wond'rous news this morning was truth, no contradiction, sir; A something sure enough was there, among the billows flouncing, Now sinking in the deep profound, now on the surface bouncing.

True as Gazette or Gospel were the tidings of the Barber, That a terrible Sea Monster had got into the harbour.

Some thought it was a Shark, sir; a Porpus some conceiv'd it; Some said it was a Grampus, and some a Whale believ'd it; Some swore it was a Sea Horse, then own'd themselves mistaken, For, now they'd got a nearer view--'twas certainly a Kraken.

Each sported his opinion from the Parson to the Barber, Of the terrible Sea Monster they'd gotten in the harbour.

"Belay, belay!" a sailor cried, "What that, this thing a Kraken!

'Tis no more like one, split my jib! than it is a flitch of bacon!

I've often seen a hundred such, all sporting in the Nile, sir, And you may trust a sailor's word, it is a Crocodile, sir."

Each straight to Jack knocks under, from the Parson to the Barber, And all agreed a Crocodile had got into the harbour.

Yet greatly Jack's discovery his auditors did shock, sir, For they dreaded that the Salmon would be eat up by the Croc, sir: When presently the Crocodile, their consternation crowning, Rais'd its head above the waves, and cried, "Help! O Lord, I'm drowning!"

Heavens! how their hair, sir, stood on end, from the Parson to the Barber, To find a speaking Crocodile had got into the harbour.

This dreadful exclamation appall'd both young and old, sir In the very stoutest hearts, indeed, it made the blood run cold, sir; Ev'n Jack, the hero of the Nile, it caus'd to quake and tremble, Until an old wife, sighing, cried, "Alas! 'tis Stephen Kemble!"

Heav'ns! how they all astonish'd were, from the Parson to the Barber, To find that Stephen Kemble was the Monster in the harbour.

Straight Crocodilish fears gave place to manly gen'rous strife, sir, Most willingly each lent a hand to save poor Stephen's life, sir; They dragg'd him gasping to the sh.o.r.e, impatient for his history, For how he came in that sad plight, to them was quite a mystery.

Tears glisten'd, sir, in every eye, from the Parson to the Barber, When, swoln to thrice his natural size, they dragg'd him from the harbour.

Now, having roll'd and rubb'd him well an hour upon the beach, sir, He got upon his legs again, and made a serious speech, sir: Quoth he, "An ancient proverb says, and true it will be found, sirs, Those born to prove an airy doom will surely ne'er be drown'd, sirs: For Fate, sirs, has us all in tow, from the Monarch to the Barber, Or surely I had breath'd my last this morning in the harbour.

Resolv'd to cross the river, sirs, a sculler did I get into, May Jonah's evil luck be mine, another when I step into!

Just when we reach'd the deepest part, O horror! there it founders, And down went poor Pilgarlick amongst the crabs and flounders!

But Fate, that keeps us all in tow, from the Monarch to the Barber, Ordain'd I should not breathe my last this morning in the harbour.

I've broke down many a stage coach, and many a chaise and gig, sirs; Once, in pa.s.sing through a trap-hole, I found myself too big, sirs; I've been circ.u.mstanc'd most oddly, while contesting a hard race, sirs, But ne'er was half so frighten'd as among the Crabs and Plaice, sirs.

O Fate, sirs, keeps us all in tow, from the Monarch to the Barber, Or certainly I'd breath'd my last this morning in the harbour.

My friends, for your exertions, my heart o'erflows with grat.i.tude, O may it prove the last time you find me in that lat.i.tude; G.o.d knows with what mischances dire the future may abound, sirs, But I hope and trust I'm one of those not fated to be drown'd, sirs."

Thus ended his oration, I had it from the Barber; And drippling, like some River G.o.d, he slowly left the harbour.

Ye men of North and South s.h.i.+elds too, G.o.d send you all prosperity!

May your commerce ever flourish, your stately s.h.i.+ps still crowd the sea: Unrivall'd in the Coal Trade, till doomsday may you stand, sirs, And, every hour, fresh wonders your eyes and mouth expand, sirs.

And long may Stephen Kemble live, and never may the Barber Mistake him for a Monster more, deep floundering in the harbour.

THE BONa.s.sUS.

Tune--"Jemmy Joneson's Whurry."

Let Wombwell, James, and a' the pack Iv yelpin' curs, beef-eaters, Ne mair about Bona.s.ses crack, Them queer, outlandish creturs.

Be dumb, ye leeing, yammering hounds, Nor wi' yor clavers fash us, For seun aw'll prove wor canny town Can boast its awn Bona.s.sus.

It chanc'd when honest Bell was Mayor, And gat each poor man's blessin-- When cheps like G--e, and Tommy C--r Gat monny a gratis lesson; Then Bell refus'd to stand agyen, Tir'd iv the situation, And ne awd wife wad tyek the chain Iv a' wor Corporation.

The folks iv s.h.i.+elds has lang begrudg'd The Custom-house beside us; This was the time, they reetly judg'd, To come sae fine langside us: They had a chep, W----t was his nyem, To poor folk rather scurvy, They sent him up wor heeds to kyem, And turn us topsy turvy.

He seun began to show his horns, And treat the poor like va.s.sals-- He sent the apple-wives to mourn A month iv wor awd Ca.s.sel.

The _timber marchants_ will ne mair Wiv ten-a-penny deave us-- They swear iv W----t's to be wor Mayor, That i' the dark they'll leave us.

The drapers next he gov a gleece, 'Bout their unruly samples-- Bound ower the clouts to keep the peace, Wiv strings to the door stanch.e.l.ls.

The tatee-market, iv a tift-- (Ye heuxters a' resent it!

My sarties! but that was a s.h.i.+ft,) To the Parade Ground sent it.

Ye gowks, frae s.h.i.+elds ye've oft slipt up, When ye had little 'casion, To see wor sn.o.bs their capers cut, Or Geordy's Coronation; Now altogether come yence mair, Wor blissins shall attend ye, If ye'll but rid us o' wor Mayor, Iv hackney's back we'll send ye.

s.h.i.+ELDS CHAIN BRIDGE,