I considered Johnny Handle of "The High Level Ranters" the custodian of these words. I asked for his permission to publish them here. Here's what he said and I quote "Hello lad, Its OK to de owt with the words of the tattooist, recite, give them to mates, put it on the web... perhaps we may find the original? Keep ahaad. Johnny Handle" - a Class Act!!! Thank You Johnny!

THE TYNESIDE TATTOOIST

Aa don't suppose yis aall realise it,
But d'ye knaa what Aa'm is?
Aa'm the only Tyneside Tattooist in captivity.

Aa'm the ace of my profession,
It's a smaall one, Aa confess;
'Cos tattooin' is a most exclusive art.

Aa'm the Rembrandt o' the needle,
See me adverts in the press,
Write for catalogue, post free, with coloured chart.

From the NAAFI club at Chatham,
Te the stews of Singapore,
Ye'll find plenty o' examples of my skill.

Aa've done Admirals, and Commodores,
And lower decks galore,
And of well-contented clients, Aa've had me fill.

Now, from the sweet and tender passions,
Ye'd imagine Aa'd be free,
But one winter's neet in 1954:

Aaa was closing me consultin' room
Te gan an have me tea,
When blessed fate came knockin' at me door.

She was GORGEOUS, but ENORMOUS!
(Note: hands shaping breasts here)
What a vision of delight!
At the sight of her, me poor heart skipped a beat.

She wanted iss te tattoo 'er,
Startin' off that very neet....
Every inch of her, from windpipe, doon te feet!

Just imagine Michaelangelo,
The way he must o' stared at that Sistine Chapel,
Then ye'll realize what a prospect Aa was faced with:
Aall alone and unprepared, my designs on a person of her size!

Sivven weeks Aa worked on Mabel,
Aa did everythin' Aa knew;
Inte me reppetory Aa put me heart and soul.

Aa did anchors, true lovers' knots, lovin' hearts entwined,
Robins in the snow and Mispah on a scroll.

Aa did snakes, a bunch o' roses,
A lobster on a plate,
Mr Chorchill, and a view of Beachy Heed.

Oh the acres o' that woman
That Aa had te contemplate,
Why, Aa finished up each evenin' nigh half deed!

When Aa finished, she looked gorgeous,
And Aa was all agog!
What a masterpiece of colour and design:

And thinkin' te use her as a human catalogue
Aa went on me knees,
And asked her... te be mine!

But she torned iss doon completely,
It was brutal, it was harsh,
Or as Mr Shakespeare says... "Aye, what a rub!"

She got married three weeks later
Tiv a chap wiv a moustache,
And he exhibits her at Blackpool in a Club.

Still, Aa've got this satisfaction,
Though me wife she may not be,
She's a livin' testimonial te my fame.

'Cos the blokes that admire her,
Knaa the work was done by me,
'Cos Aa signed her... across her bottom.... WI' ME NAME!