Subject: Ne Wark
From:
*#1 PEASANT*
Date: 26 Mar 02 - 08:05 PM
Ne Wark Tuen: Pretty Polly Perkins Aw's wear, aw's wretced, aw wander forlorn,
Aw sigh for the neet, an' then wish for the morn;
For neet brings ne cumnfort, an' morn little mair,
I' byeth mind an' body aw's worn oot an' sair. Chorus What wretchedness, what misery,
Thor's ne one can tell,
Except them that's been oot o' wark, like me-sel. Aw wander te places, an' try te get wark,
Where Call back agyen is the foreman's remark;
Thus hopeless an' cheerless aw pass mony a day,
Tho the pay-week cums roond-it te me brings ne pay. Ne wark yit!-heart -broken aw bend me ways hyem,
Ne wark yit!-te tell them aw really think shem;
For dependence is painful, tho it's on yor awn,
Tho te cumfort an' cheer ye they try a' they can. Thgor's nyen can imagine the angwish aw feel
When aw sit doon at hyem te maw poor humble meal
Each bite seems te chwok us,-the day seems full lang.
An' a' that aw de, whey, aw feel tho 'twas rang. Me fether lucks dull, tho he strives te luuck glad,
An' tells us it's nowt te the trubbils he's had;
Me muther smiles kindly, tho sad like the rest,
She whispors, Cheer up, lad , an' hope for the best! It cannet last always!- aw hope afore lang
Wi' wark aw'll be freed frae sad poverty's pang;
For withoot it hyem's dreery,-the fire's bright spark
Turns gloomy an' dim when at hyem thor's Ne Wark. -Source: Joe Wilson, Tyneside Songs and Drolleries
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