Parody on Billy Oliver's Ramble

My nyem is Willy Dixon,
A coachmakere to my trade;
And when aw see a Pitman come,
Aw run--because aw's flaid.

Chorus-
Sic an a cliver chep am aw, am aw, am aw,
Sic an a cliver chep am aw
 

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

On Sunday mornings, then, you see,
Aw dress mesel se fine;
And wi' me white drill pantaloons,
Aw cuts a fearful shine.

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,

Then when aw gans to see the lass,
It's in the afternoon;
An then we gansa wauking
Wi' her fine lustre goon.

And as we gan through Jesmond Fields,
The lasses gyep and luick,
And efter we get past them a'
They cry, 'Ah! what a buck!

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!

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

-In: The Newcastle Song Book or Tyne-Side Songster., W&T Fordyce
Newcastle Upon Tyne.