Mally and the Prophet

'Twas rumour'd about that a wonderful Prophet,
Who liv'd mony years afore Adam an' Eve,
Wad preach to the folks in Newcassel Wheat Market,
Which myed them a' run his advice to receive;
The coat on his back fairly puzzles the tailors,
An' deil smash a shoe or a stockin' he'll wear:
He drinks nowt that's stranger than pure caller waiter,
An' turns his nose up at wor Newcassel beer.

Right fal, etc.

Wor Mally, determin'd to be like her neighbours,
Suen dress'd her-sel' up in her fine chintzie goon;
Thro' Sandgit she waddled as cliver as Lunnin;
To see this queer man she steer'd straight for the toon.
She hail'd Cuckoo Jack at the foot of the Kee, man:
He caper'd an' roar'd like a cull silly block-
"O marrows! see! yonder gans crazy awd Mally,
To glow'r like a feul at Hepple's gyem cock."

Right fal, etc.

The keel-bullies nicker'd but on Mally doddl'd,
An' said tiv her-sel, "May the deil cock ye blind;
Aw'll speak to the Prophet to send ye, the next tide,
To the bottom o' Tyne iv a greet gale o' wind."
She reached the Sandhill, where Blind Willie was tellin'
The truth 'bout the Prophet yet thowt he did mock;
"There's nowt there." says he, "but a afew wanton huzzies,
Thrang catchin' an' pullin' Bob Hepple's gyem cock."

Right fal, etc

Still Mally push'd forward, quite sure she wad see him,
Not heedin' the jeers and the jokes that were pass'd;
To laugh at a prophet she thowt it was cullish.
Wi' sair tues she reach'd the Wheat Market at last;
Cull Billy cam up, an' she ask'd for the Prophet
(By this time St. Nicholas' had struck ten o'clock);
"There's no such thing, woman," said Billy "I'm certain;
I fancy you want to see Hepple's game cock."

Right fal, etc.

And Mally, enraged, was about to give battle,
But Billy convinc'd her, which seun stopp'd her mouth,
That both cocks an' hens, he said, liv'd before Adam;
That each cock's a prophet is well known for truth.
The hoax thus explained, greet was Mally's vexation,
to think she'd been made a complete laughing-stock;
Then kilted her coats and trudg'd back to the Swirle,
And often gets vext aboot Hepple's gyem cock.

Right fal, etc.

-Emery, "Bards of the Tyne," 1849.

In consequence of the appearance of a bill announcing the arrival of a most extraordinary prophet in Newcastle,-whose dress was coeval with Adam, whose unshod feet and habits of teetotalism, together with his prophetic spirits, marked him as a sight worth seeing,-crowds of persons thronged the square of St. Nicholas in hopes of beholding this LUSUIS NATURAE, -when lo and behold!-the "chanticleer of the morning" strutted forth in all the majesty of the dunghill, and with his shrill clarion anounces himself as the veritable prophet.--What a dress!