Chambers and White

The Tyne wi' fame is ringin' on heros old and young,
Fresh lawrels daily bringin', but noo awl men hez sung
In praise o' honest Chambers, ov Tyneside men the pride.
Who defeated White ov London for one hundred pund aside.

Chorus.
Singin' bull away, pull away, pull away, boys,
Pull away, boys, se cliver;
Pull away, pull away, pull away, boys,
Chambers for iver!

They're off, they're off, the cry is, then cheers suin rend the air,
Like leetnin' they pass by us, the game an' plucky pair;
Greek meets Greek, then faster an' faster grows the pace.
Gan on, Chambers! gan on, White! may the best man win the race.

Singin' pull away, etc.

Stroke for stroke contendin, they sweep on wi' the tide,
Fortune seems impendin the victor te decide;
At last the Cockney losin' strength, the fowlin gam' did steal,
He leaves his wetter ivery length, an' runs Chambers iv a keel

Spoken- What a hulla baloo! Hoo the Cockney speeled away; ivery yen thowt the race was ower. Some said it was a deed robery, others a worry, an' wawked hyem before the finish o' the race. There was a chep stannin' aside me wiv his hands, iv his pockets-aw'm startin thor wis nowt else in-luikin' on te river wiv a feyce like a filddle stick. He sung the following lament, efter the style of "There's nae luck" :-

Tune- "Nae Luck aboot the Hoose."

Ten lengths aheed! Fareweel, bedsteed! maw achin' byens nee mair
On thou mun rowl;
No, this poor sowl mun rest on deep despair.
Wor Nannie, tee, she'll curse an' flee, an' belt me like a Tork,
For aw've lost me money, time, an' spree, an' mebbies lost maw work.

Chorus
For oh! dismay upon that da in ornist did begin,
On ivery feyce a chep might trace- (Spoken) Whe's forst- Bob?
(Sings) Oh! the Cockney's sure te win.

Says one poor sowl aw've sell'd my pigs, my clock, my drawers an' bed,
An' doon te Walker aw mun wark, when aw might a rode I'stead.
Gox! there's wor Jim an' a' the crews pawned ivery stich o' claes,
An' they say thor's two cheps sell'd thor wives, the six te fower te raise.

For oh, dismay, etc.

Spoken- Comin' doon efter awl wis ower, aw meets one I' wor cheps, an Irishman; they cawd him Patrick, but aw cawd him Mick for shortness. He wadent wait for the finish, altho' he backed Bob; so aw hailed him, "Hie, Mick, whe's forst?" "Go to blazes!" says he. "Nonsense, Mick; whe's forst?" "Och, sure," says he, "the Londin man was forst half-way before the race was quarther over." "Had on, Mick, that's a bull. Did ye lay owt on tiv him-aw mean Bob?" "By my sowl, I did! an' I'd like to lay this lump ov a stick on his dhirty cocoa-nut. The next time I speculate on floatin' praporty may I be sthruck wid a button on my upper lip as big as a clock face." "But, Chambers is forst!" says aw. "Arrah! de ye mane to say that?" says he, "Didn't aw tell ye he'd win afore iver he started?" "Hurroo! more power! fire away!"

Chorus

Pull away, pull away, pull away, boys,
Pull away, pull away, pull away, boys.
Chambers for iver!

-Corvan, 1862

The above most memorable race took place on the Tyne, April 19th, 1859, between Thomas White, of London, and Robert Chambers, of Newcastle. The latter fouled a keel after rowing about half a mile; this accident allowed White to obtain a lead of about one hndred yards, but Chambers gamely followed, and caught him near Armstrong's factory, where he passed the Cockney and defeated him very easily. This, the most wonderful performance on any river stamped "Honest Bob" as the greatest oarsman of the age.-Note, 1872 Edition.