Subject: Canny Newcastle
From:
Conrad Bladey (Peasant- Inactive)
Date: 03 Mar 00 - 09:23 AM
Canny Newcassel
'Bout Lunnun aw'd heerd sec wonderful spokes,
That the streets were a' cover'd wi' guineas:
The hooses sae fine, and sec grandees the folks,
To them huz i' th' North were but ninnies.
But aw fand ma esel bloknk'd when to Lunnun aw gat,
The folk they a' luik'd wishy-washy;
For goold ye may howk till ye're blind as a bat,
An' their streets are like wors--brave and blashy. Chorus:
Bout Lunnun then divvent ye mak' sic a rout,
There's nouse for yens winkers to dazzle;
For a' the fine things ye are gobbin' aboot
We can marra iv' canny Newcassel. A Cockney chep show'd me the Thames druvy fyece,
Whilk, he said, was the pride o' the nation,
Ah' thowt at their shippin' aw'd myek a haze-gaze--
But aw whop't ma foot on his noration.
Wi' huz, mun, three hunnerd ship sail iv a tide,
We think nowt on't, aw'll myek accydavy;
Ye're a gouck if ye dinna knaw Lads o' Tyne side
Are the Jacks 'at maek famish wor Navy. We went big St. Paul's an' Westminster to see,
An' aw warn'd ye aw thowt they luik't pretty;
An' then we'd a keek at the Monniment te,
Whilk maw friend ca'd the pearl o' the City.
Wey, hinny, says aw, we've a Shot toor se heer,
That biv'it ye might scraffel to heaven;
An' if on Saint Nicolas ye yence cus an e'e,
Ye'd crack on't as lang as ye're levin'. We trodg'd to St. Jame's, for theer the King lives,
Aw's warn'd ye a good stare we tyeuk on't:
By my faicks! it's been built up by Adam's aun neaves,
For it's auld as the hills, by the leuk on't;
Shem bin ye, says aw--ye should keep the King douse,
Aw say see, without ony malice;
Aw own that wor Mayor rayther wants a new hoose,
But then--wor Informary's a palace. Ah hinnies! oot cam' the King while we wor there,
His leuks seem'd to say--"Bairns, be happy;"
Sae, doon o'my hunkers aw set up a blare,
For God to preserve him frae Nappy;
For Geordie aw'd dee--for my loyalty's trig,
An' aw own he's a guid luikin' mannie;
But if wor Sir Mattha ye'd buss iv his wig,
Be gocks! he would just luik as canny. Aa hinnies! aboot us the lasses did loup,
Thick as curns iv a spice singin-hinnie;
Som aud, an som hardly flig'd ower the doup,
But aw kend what they waur by their whinnie;
A', mannie, says aw, ye hav mony a tite girl,
But aw'm tell'd they're oft het i' their trappin;
Aw'd cuddle much rather a lass i' the Sworl,
Than the dolls i' the Strand, or i' Wappin. Wiv a' the stravaging aw wanted a munch,
An' ma thropple was ready te gizen;
So we went tiv' a yell house, and there teuk a lunch,
But the reck'ning, my saul! was a bizon;
Wiv hus i' th' North, when aw'm wairsh i' my way,
(But te knaw wor warm hearts, ye yur sell come)
Aw lift the first latch, and baith man and dame say,
"Cuck your hough, canny man, for ye're welcome." A shillin aw thought at the Play-house aw'd ware,
But aw jump'd there wiv heuk-finger'd people;
My pockets gat rip'd and aw heard ne mair,
Nor aw could frae Saint Nicholas's steeple.
Dang Lunnun! wor Play-house aw like just as weel,
And wor play-folks aw's shure are as funny;
A shillin's worth sarves me to laugh till aw squeel,
Ne haillion there thrimmels ma money. The loss o' the cotterels aw dinna regaird,
For aw've gotten some white-heft o' Lunnun;
Aw've learn'd to prefer my own canny calf yaird;
If ye catch me mair fra't, ye'll be cunnun.
Aw knaw that the Cockneys crake rum-gum-shus chimers.
To maek gam of wor bur, and wor'parel
But honest Blind Willy shall string this iv rhymes,
And aw'll sing for the Christmas Carol. 
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