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By Various
Wilson,[19] desist! and Simpson,[20] take your rest!
Ease and retirement now will suit ye best;
Your brief excursions will excite no more
That admiration which they did before;
Though doubtless ye have both endeavour'd hard,
Perhaps without an adequate reward;
But such laborious journies lay aside,
By Various
Baith sides of the Tyne, aw remember,
Were cover'd wi' bonny green fields,
But now there is nought but big furnaces
Down frae Newcastle to Shields;
And what wi' their sulphur and brimstone,
Their vapour, their smoke, and their steam,
The grass is all gaen, and the farmers
By Various
For making their salts and their soda,
They formerly us'd a kail-pot,
With an awd-fashion'd bit of a chimley
They were quite satisfied wi' their lot;
But now Anty Clapham, the Quaker,
Has fill'd a' the folks wi' surprise,
For he's lately built up a lang chimley,
Within a few feet o' the skies!
By Various
Then comes the grand finale, for which our souls we'd barter now;
The Regent and his ministers we'll pester night and day,
Till tranferr'd to us Newcastle sees her revenues and charter too,
And from Heddon streams to Tynemouth bar, Tyne owns our sovereign
sway.
O when our town so famous is,
Big as Hippopotamuses,
We'll strut about the Bank-top quite semi-divine;
The neighbouring coasters all,
Our greatness shall appall,
By Various
That morning forget I will never,
When first I saw him on the Kee,
The 'Keel-row' he whistled se clever,
He won my affections frae me;
His drawers on his doup luik'd se canny,
His keel-hat was cock'd on his head,
And if I'd not getten my Jimmy,
By Various
Your bonny bells there's nane excels,
In a' the country round;
They ring so sweet, they are a treat
When they play heartsome tunes;
And when all's dark, the people mark
Ye with your fiery eye,
That tells the travellers in the street
By Various
Alas! what mun aw dee?
Wor Oyter-tub[46] is doom'd ne mair
To grace Newcassel Kee!
Wor bonny lamp that brunt se breet,
And cheer'd each wintry neet se dreary,
Is gyen, and lots o' canny folks
Will miss it sair when cawd and weary!
By Various
There's famous ale in yon town,
Will make your lips to smack again,
And many a one leaves yon town,
Oft wishes they were back again;
Well shelter'd from the northern blast,
Its spires and turrets proudly rise,
And boats and keels all sailing past
By Various
Blind Willie slowly led the band,
As beagle, on the way, man;
A staff he carried in his hand,
And shook his head se grey, man;
At his reet hand was Buggy Jack,
With his hat-brim se broad, man;
And on his left was Bill the Black,
By Various
Now, from Hibernia's fertile shore
The thund'ring champion comes,
His country's wrongs for to deplore,
With trumpets, fife, and drums;
He tells them, too, he is most true,
Their firm, unshaken friend,
While life Shall last, he will stand fast,
By Various
And not unfrequent, as we stray
This wond'rous place to see,
We find it fill'd with ladies gay,
To take a cup of tea;
And many a gent, who is content
With such domestic fare,
Has often sat, in social chat,
By Various
Last Cursmas time whe wad ha'e thowt
That wor awd priest wad leave us,
And cause sec dowly thowts to cum,
Se very much to grieve us?
We sartly thowt we had him fix'd,
And fassen'd here till death, sors;
Unless he had been prebendized
By Various
The sailors sing their dangers o'er,
When sailing on the high seas;
Says Donald frae Fife, "I've left the North,
Where Parry wad lost his ideas."
"Come, d--n!" says Durham lad, "leet my pipe,
And give us nyen o' your yarn reels;
But pay the quart--Ise be the next,
We'll hev a spree at Armfield's."
By Various
The time has been when bread and cheese
Was wont to be their fare, sir,
What think ye now of turkeys, geese,
A partridge, or a hare, sir!
Well I remind their many joys,
And many happy days, sir,
For O they were the bonny boys
By Various
Some talk about the Esquimaux,
And tell of Cherokees, sir,
Hottentots and Marathas,
And folks in the South Seas, sir;
'Tis said they sometimes cut a swell
In dishes odd and rare, sir,
But we from them will bear the bell,
By Various
Now as you chance to walk the street,
How every dog will run, sir,
Lest you should roast him for a treat,
And eat him up in fun, sir;
The Quayside horses, loaded well,
Will scamper off like hares, sir,
To see, not Bears all eating men,
By Various
Yet ’tis not the rosy tint of summer,
Nor the song-birds’ joyous lay,
Nor the streamlet’s murmuring music,
That makes my heart feel gay;
’Tis her smile that beams upon me,
’Mid each flowery scene,
While I fondly wander,
With my heart’s true queen,
By Various
Oh, where is the wanderer now?
The breeze that floats lightly around me,
Perchance may soon visit his brow;
Oh, bear on thy bosom a message,
We are watching, oh, why wilt thou roam?
The heart has grown sad and dejected,
By Various
In beauty gleamed the moon last night,
And brightly star lamps shone,
The wind among the lindentrees
Made music sad and lone;
The shadows of the firelight danced
Like sprites upon the floor,
As moon and star ray gently fell
Around the cottage door;
With breathings hush’d we sat around
The couch where Ettie lay,
And wept that one so beautiful,
By Various
Your dandies and foplings may sneer,
At her simple and modest attire,
But the charm she permits to appear,
Would set the whole iceberg on fire!
She can dance--but she never allows
The hugging, the squeeze, and caress,
She is saving all these for her spouse,