Betty Beesley and Her Wooden Man.
Tune-"The Bold Dragoon."

Bet Beesley was a skipper's wife
For twe lang years an' mair;
They leeved a kind o' howstro life-
Smash, man, they fettled sair!
They gurn'd like cats- thor gob browt bats-
Byeth often wished the yen was croakin';
So Deeth yen day stopp'd Tommy's chats,
An' left the widow Bet heart-broken.
Oh, BettyBeesley!
Dinnet break thaw heart, maw hinny!
No, Betty-Beesley!
Dinnet break thaw heart, maw hinny!
No, Betty Beesley-get another man!

Bet Beesley had a bonny fyece,
An' was a smartish queen;
A fairy's foot an' leg o' grace,
An' twe black roguish een.
Noo Nabob Tate, that had o' late
Fra Indy cum wi' loads o' siller,
Teuk Bet to see his hoose an' plate,
An' fairly popped the question tiv her:
"Oh, Betty Beesley!
Dinnet say thou winnet, hinney!
Oh, Betty Beesley, tyek me for thaw man!"

Smash! Betty wed this Nabob grand,
Turned oot a leddy fine;
She gat silk gloves upon her hand,
An' cut wi' rings a shine;
The happy day seun slipped away,
An' neet cam on, ye ken-Oh, deary!
Tate's servant carried him, they say,
To Betty's room, a little beery!
Oh, Betty Beesley!
What a spree thou'll hae, maw hinney!
Oh Betty Beesley, cuddle close thee man!

Poor Betty thowt a vast o' sheym,
Else myed believe to de;
But Tate was jully seun at hyem,
An' clapp'd Bet on his knee.
Bet thowt his legs fand hardish pegs,
Says she, "Oh, dear! what's thor things stickin?"
"These are my stumps!"- and up he jumps-
"Aw'll screw them off else they'll be breekin'.
Oh, Betty Beesley!
Hes thee man ne shanks, maw hinny?
Oh, Betty Beesley- what a Wooden Man!

"Hoots! what's the use o' tryin', Tate,
To screw thaw legs, maw dear?
Ye men folks spoil the weddin' state
Wi' tyekin' se much beer!"
"Come, thou, maw pet-this way, lass Bet,
An' when thou gets maw pins dissected,
Maw airms thou'll feel is wood an' steel,
So thou can lowse them as directed."
Oh, Betty Beesley!
Nouther legs nor airms maw hinney,
Oh, Betty Beesley, thous's wed a trunkey man.

But Bet turned dwamy, like to fall,
"Oh dear, oh dear! she cries;
Says Tate, "But, Bet, this isn't all,
Cum, tyek oot teeth and eyes!
Then to complete the screwin' feat
(Gox, what a thing to get a breed off!),
Just coup me backward in maw seat,
An' try, maw luve, to screw maw heed off!"
Oh, Betty Beesley!
What a job thou's deun, maw hinny!
Oh, Betty Beesley, thou hesn't half a man!

'Twas mair then mortal flesh cud stand,
Bet, shootin', cut her stick-
"Aw thowt to get sum nabob grand,
Aw's bobb'd wi' fair aud Nick."
"Cum back," says he, "its nobbet spree,
The heed is fast upon yor mannie;
So now to bed thou's cairy me,
We'll sleep th-gether douce an' canny."
Oh, Betty Beesley!
What a pairtner for thee hinny,
Oh, Betty Beesley, be canny wi' thee man.

The howdy nine muens efter this
'Iv hyest was summonsed late;
Poor Bet gat throuh it not amiss,
A bairn for Mister Tate.
Bet lyuk'd up, glad to see the lad;
Shys she, "Peg, try the airms an' legs on't,
For if its fashuns like its dad,
Thou'll find steel airms an' wooden pegs on't."
Oh, Betty Beesley!
Dinnet fret, maw bonny hinny,
For ho, Betty Beesley, the Nabob's proved a man.

J.P. Robson, "Bards of the Tyne,", 1849.