Canny Sheels

Bout Newcassel they've written sae mony fine sangs,
And compar'd their bit place unti Lunnun;
What a shem that 'tiv Sheels not a poet belangs.
For to tell them they le wi' their funnin.
They may boast o' their shippin without ony doubt,
For there's nyen can deny that they've plenty;
But for every yen they are gobbing about,
Aw'm sure we can shew them, ey twenty!

Chorus:

Let them haud their fule gobs then & brag us ne mair,
With their clarty bit au'd Corporation;
For it's varry weel knawn Sheels pays her full share
For to keep Mister Mayor iv his station.

They hev a bit place where they myek a few shot,
Lunnin's column tiv it's like a nine-pin;
And St. Nicholas compar'd wi' St. Paul's an' what not,
Wey it's a yuven compar'd tiv a limekiln.
If their Shot Tower sae hee was plac'd on wor Sand End,
Side wor Light House to scraffle to glory;
Their journey to heaven wad suen hev an end,
For by gox they'd ne'er reach the first story.

They call their Infirm'ry a place for a king,
To be stow'd 'mang the sick, lyem, nad lazy;
If a Sheels man had ventur'd to say sic a thing,
The blind gowks wad a' said he was crazy.
Bout their Custom House tee they myek a great rout,
That the e'en o' the folks it diz dazzel;
But if a' gans reet Sheels, without ony doubt,
Will suen eclipse that at Canny Newcassel.

Then they brag they leuk bonny, fresh-colored and gay,
And the Lunnun folk a' wishey washey;
But L---d put it off tiv a far distant day,
That there's one on huz here leuks sae trashy.
Then they boast o' Sir Matthew--but never enquire
If the foundation's good that he stood on;
But if he comes up to wor canny au'd Squire,
Then becrikes he is nowse but a good 'un

But the Squire, canny man, he's gyen frae the toon,
And aw'm sure on't the poor sairly miss him;
For oft as aw wauk Pearson's Raw up and doon,
Aw hear the folk cry, Heaven bliss him!
Yet aw hope, an' aw trust, he'll suen find his way hyem
And aw's sure aw'll be glad to hear tell on't;
For aw've varry oft thowt-- did ye ne'er think the syem
since he's gyen Sheels hezzent luik't like the sel on't

Then lang life to the King and wor awn noble duik,
May Sheels lang partake of his boutny;
For Newcassel, ye ken, if ye e'er read a buik,
Is at yence byeth a toon and a county.
Northumberland's Duik may still shew his sel there,
But his int'rest frae Sheels n'er can sever;
So aw'll gie ye just now, shou'd aw ne'eer  see ye mair,
Wor Duik and wor Dutchess for ever!

Let them haud their fuel gobs then & brag tis ne mair,
Wi' their this, that, and t'other sae cliver;
Wel'll aw drink as lang's we've a penny to spare,
Here's success to wor awn town for ever!!!
 

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