Subject: Newcastle Fair
From:
Conrad Bladey (Peasant- Inactive)
Date: 07 Apr 00 - 09:09 AM
Newcastle Fair
October, 1811- The Pitman a drinking of Jacky
Tune- Drops of Brandy
Ha' ye been at Newcastle fair,
and did ye see ouse o' great Sandy?
Lord bliss us! what wark there was there;
And the folks were drinking of brandy.
Brandy, a shilling a glass!
Aw star'd, and thought it was shamful.
Never mind, says aw, canny lass,
Give us yell, and aw'll drink ma wameful, Chorus-
Rum te idily, &c. Says she, Canny man, the yell's cawd:
It comes frev a man they ca' Mackey,
And my faith it's byeth sour an' awd;
Y'd best hev a drop o' wour jacky.
Your jacky! says, I, now what's that?
I ne'er heard the neame o' sic liquor.
English gin, canny man, that's flat.
And then she set up a great nicker. Says I , Diven't laugh at poor folks,
But gang and bring some o' yur jacky;
Aw want neane o' yur jibes or jokes;
I' th' mean time aw'll tak a bit backy.
Aw just tuke a chew o' pig tail,
She brought in this jacky se funny;
Says she, Sir, that's better than ale:
And held out her hand for the money. There's three pence to pay, if you please;
Aw star'd an' aw gap'd like a ninny:
Od smash thee, aw'll sit at ma ease,
An' not tir till aw've spent a half guinea.
Aw sat an' aw drank till quite blind,
Then aw' gat up to gang to the door,
But deel smash a door cou'd aw find,
An' fell flat o' ma fyess on the floor. There aw lay for ever se lang,
And dreamt about rivers and ditches;
When waken'd was singing this song--
Smash, jacky thou's wet a' ma breeches.
An' faith! but the sang it was true,
For jacky had been se prevailing,
He'd whistled himsel' quickly throiugh
An' the chairs an' tables were sailing. Then rising, aw went ma ways heame,
Aw knock'd at the door, an' cry'd Jenny;
Says she, Canny man, is'te lame,
Or been wadin in Tyne, ma hinny?
I' troth, she was like for to dee,
An'just by the way to relieve her,
The water's been wadin through me,
An' this jacky's a gay deceiver, If e'er aw drink jacky again,
Bay the bitch of a lass, ma adviser,
Loup alive down ma throat, with a stane
As big as a pulveriser. -By J.S. in Bell
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