The Newcastle Song Book Part 4

Aw's sure to hev a fight wi' them, For aw's as strang as ony bull.

Sic an a cliver chep am aw.

And when aw've had a fight or twee, And fairly useless grown; Aw back, as drunk as aw can be, To canny Benwell toon.

Sic an a cliver chep am aw.

A PARODY ON BILLY OLIVER'S RAMBLE.

My nyem is w.i.l.l.y Dixon, A Coachmaker to my trade; And when aw see a Pitman come, Aw run--because aw's flaid.

Sic an a cliver chep am aw, am aw, am aw.

Sic an a cliver chep am aw.

On Pay-day neets aw gan to the c.o.c.k, When the Pitmen's aw gyen hyem, Then aw begins to rair and sing, And myek o' them a gyem.

Sic an a cliver chep am aw.

Ou Sunday mornings, then, you see, Aw dress mesel se fine; And wi' me white drill pantaloons, Aw cuts a fearful s.h.i.+ne.

Sic an a cliver chep am aw.

Then what a swagger aw dis cut, As aw gan alang the street, But aw's myed se like nut-crackers, That maw nose and chin they meet.

Sic an a cliver chep am aw.

Then when aw gans to see the la.s.s, It's in the afternoon; An' then we gans a wauking, Wi' her fine l.u.s.tre goon.

Sic an a cliver chep am aw.

And as we gan through Jesmond fields, The la.s.ses gyep and luick, And efter we get past them a', They cry, 'Ah! what a buck!'

Sic an a cliver chep am aw.

Then efter wandering up and down, At neet we toddle hyem; And aw gies her a kiss, you see, And she cries, 'Fie for shem!'

Sic an a cliver chep am aw.

Then aw seeks out my au'd wark claes, Gets on another sark; And on Monday morn, at six o'clock, Gans whisslin off to wark.

Sic an a cliver chep am aw.

X Y Z AT NEWCASTLE RACES, 1814;

_Or, Pitmen's Luck._

Smas.h.!.+ Jemmy, let us buss, we'll off And see Newca.s.sel Races; Set d.i.c.k the trapper for some syep, We'll suin wesh a' wor faces.

There's ne'er a lad iv Percy Main Be bet this day for five or ten; Wor pockets lin'd wiv notes and cash, Amang the cheps we'll cut a dash; For X Y Z, that bonny steed, He bangs them a' for pith and speed, He's sure to win the cup, man.

We reach'd the Moor, wi' sairish tews, When they were gawn to start, man: We gav a fellow tuppence each, To stand upon a cart, man: The bets flew round frae side to side; 'The field agyen X Y!' they cried: We'd hardly time to lay them a', When in he cam--Hurraw! hurraw!

'Gad smas.h.!.+' says aw, 'X Y's the steed, He bangs them a' for pith an' speed, We never see'd the like, man!'

Next, to the tents we hied, to get Sum stuffin for wor bags, man; Wi' flesh we gaily pang'd wor hides-- Smok'd nowse but patten s.h.a.g, man; While rum an' brandy soak'd each chop, We'd Jackey an' fine Ginger-pop; We gat what myed us winkin blin'-- When drunkey aw began te sing-- 'Od smas.h.!.+ X Y, that bonny steed, Thou bangs them a' for pith an' speed, We never see'd his like, man!'

Next up amang the shows we gat, Where folks a' stood i' flocks, man, To see a chep play Bob and Joan, Upon a wooden box, man; While bairns and music fill'd the stage, And some, by gox! were grim wi' age: When next au'd Grin a powny browt, Could tell at yence what people thowt!

'Od smas.h.!.+' says aw, 'if he's the breed Of X Y Z, that bonny steed, Thou never see'd his like, man.'

But haud! when we cam to the toon, What thinks tou we saw there, man?

We saw a Blacky puffin, sweetin, Suckin in fresh air, man; They said that he could fell an ox-- His name was fighting Molinox: But ere he fit another round, His marrow fell'd him to the ground.

'Od smas.h.!.+' says aw, 'if thou's sic breed As X Y Z, that bonny steed, Thou never see'd his like, man!'

Next 'board a Steamer-boat we gat, A laddie rang a bell, man; We haddent sitten varry lang, Till byeth asleep we fell, man: But the noise seun myed poor Jemmy start-- He thowt 'twas time to gan to wark, For pick and hoggers roar'd out he-- And myed sic noise it waken'd me.

'Od smas.h.!.+' says aw, 'X Y's the steed, He bangs them a' for pith and speed, Aw never see'd his like, man!'

When landed, straight off hyem aw gans, An' thunners at the door, man; The bairns lap ower the bed wi' fright, Fell smack upon the floor, man: But to gaur the wifey haud her tongue, Show'd her the kelter aw had won: She with a cinder burnt her toes, An' little Jacob broke his nose-- The bra.s.s aw've getten at the race Will buy a patch for Jacob's face-- So now my sang is duin, man.

NEWCASTLE FAIR;

_Or, The Pitman drinking Jackey._

Ha' ye been at Newcastle Fair, And did ye see owse o' great Sandy?

Lord bliss us! what wark there was there; And the folks were drinking of brandy.

Brandy a s.h.i.+lling a gla.s.s!

Aw star'd, and thought it was shameful: Never mind, says aw, canny la.s.s, Give us yell, and aw'll drink my wame full.

Rum te idity, &c.

Says she, Canny man, the yell's cau'd; It comes frev a man they caw Mackey, And by my faith! it's byeth sour and au'd; Ye'd best hev a drop o' wor Jackey.

Your Jackey! says aw, now what's that?

Aw ne'er heard the nyem o' sic liquor.

English Gin, canny man, that's flat, And then she set up a great nicker.

Rum te idity, &c.

Says aw, Divent laugh at poor folks, But gan and bring some o' yur Jackey; Aw want nyen o' yur jibes or jokes, I' th' mean time aw'll tyek a bit backey.

Aw just tuik a chew o' pig-tail, She brought in this Jackey sae funny: Says she, Sir, that's better than ale, And held out her hand for the money.

Rum te idity, &c.

There's three-pence to pay, if you please: Aw star'd and aw gap'd like a ninny; Od smash thee! aw'll sit at my ease, And not stir till aw've spent a half ginny.

Aw sat and aw drank till quite blind, Then aw gat up to gan to the door, But deil smash a door could aw find!

And fell flat o' maw fyece on the floor.

Rum te idity, &c.

There aw lay for ever sae lang, And dreamt about rivers and ditches; When waken'd, was singing this sang-- 'Smash, Jackey, thou's wet a' me breeches!'

An' faith! but the sang it was true, For Jackey had been sae prevailing.

He'd whistled himsel' quickly through, And the chairs and tables were sailing.

Rum te idity, &c.

Then rising, aw went maw ways hyem, Aw knock'd at the door, and cry'd Jenny!