A Happy Neet At Hyem!
Teun-"Newcastle is my Native Place."

Let poets sing I' praise o' scenes
Where they injoymint find;
But, lads, we hevint far te seek
Till we can easily win'd.
What can a man wish for better,
An' nivvor need think shem
Te myek't his boast that he can spend
A happy neet at hyem?

Korus.
A happy neet at hyem,
A happy neet at hyem,
Wi' bairns an' wife, the joy o' life,
A happy neet at hyem.

When tired wiv his daily toil,,
He sits doon tiv his tea,
Wi' sum nice tyesty-bite, that myeks
The bairns cling roond his knee:
Thor bonny eyes a welcum give
That they can hardly nyem:
Hoo can he help but wi'; them spend
A happy neet at hyem?

The little lad 'ill imitate,
Wi' paper upside doon,
His fethur, as he reads the news
That's's published I' the toon.
The muther sings an' sews away;
The dowter dis the syem:
An' ivry one's content te myek
A happy neet at hyem.

An' them that lead a sober life,
True happiness like this
Can find te myek thor life serene-
An earthly scene o' bliss.
Thor happy oot, thor happy in,
Such canny foals like them,
That myek't thor care te always share
A happy neet at hyem.

-Joe Wilson