The Bonassus
tune- Jemmy Joneson's Whurry

Let Wombwell, James, and a' the pack
Iv yelpin' curs, beef-eaters,
Ne mair about Bonasses crack,
Them queer, outlandish creturs.
Be dumb, ye leeing, yammering hounds,
Nor wi' yor claves flas us,
For seun aw'll prove wor canny town
Can boast its awn Bonassus.

It chanc'd when honest Bell was Mayor,
And gat each poor man's blessin--
When cheps like G--e, and Tommy C--r
Gat monny a gratis lesson;
Then Bell refus'd to stand agyen,
Tir'd iv the situation,
And ne awd wife wadtyek the chain
Iv a' wor Corporation.

The folks iv Shields has lang begrug'd
The Custom-house beside us;
This was the time, they reetly judg'd,
To come sae fine langside us:
They had a chep, W--t was his nyem,
To poor folk rather scurvy,
They sent him up wor heeds to kyem,
And turn us topsy turvy.

He seum began to show his horns,
And treat the poor like vasals--
He sent the apple wivesto mourn
A month iv wor awd Cassel.
the timber marchants will ne mair
Wiv ten-a-penny deave us--
They swear iv W--t's to be wor Mayor,
That i' the dark they'll leave us.

The drapers next he gov a gleece,
'Bout their unruly samples--
Bound ower the cloutsto keep the peace,
Wiv strings to the door stanchells.
The tatee-market, iv a tift-
(Ye heuxters a' resent it!
My sarties! but that was a shift,)
To the Parade Ground sent it.

Ye gowks, frae Shields ye've oft slipt up,
When ye had little 'casion,
To see wor snobs their capers cut,
Or Geordy's Coronation;
Now altogether come yence mair,
Wor blissins shall attend ye,
If ye'll butridus o' wor Mayor,
Iv hackneys back we'll send ye.

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