Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson

Subject: Lyr Add: the day 0' life.
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 11 May 17 - 07:20 AM

the day 0' life.

TWES a bright sunny morn when Bill Tait's bairn we born
An' the glasses went roond tiv a reet merry teun:
An' the muther she smiled at the fethur se wild
Wi' joy at the birth ov a fine healthy sun:
Its bit soft cheek wes kiss'd, an' its muther weel blist,
An' thor health drunk agyen, an' agyen, te convey
Thor neybors' rispect wi' the best 0' gud feelin:
What a sweet little pictor-the dawn 0' Life's day!

Next door, a grand weddin, each young heart te gladden
Myed curious heeds pop throo windows an' doors,
Te see the bride blushin, an' a' the crood pushin
Te welcum Dick Scott an' the lass he adores;
Wi' sic a fine party,-contented an' hearty,
The fleet moments rowl onward, unheeded, away:
May the bride's life be as sweet as her luver's heart's leet,
What a dear little pictor-the noon 0' Life's day!

Close at hand, doon the street, i' the dusk 0' the neet,
Bill Carr, sair wi' suffrin, lay waitin for Deeth,
He sadly luckt roond, but nyen there cud help him,
An' darkness set in as he drew his last breeth:
The birth ov a bairn's like the dawn 0' the mornin,
An' a weddin's the noon, wi' the sun's cheerin ray,
An' Deeth's the dark neet that's se sartin te follow,
The dreary dark pictor that closes Life's day!

-Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890.

Subject: Lyr Add: PRETTY SWEETHEART JESSIE MAY (Joe Wilson)
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 11 May 17 - 07:23 AM

Pretty Sweetheart, Jessie May

OH! Jessie, I am often doubting
That your love for me is true,
Ever changeful, laughing,-pouting,
Thus I often think of you;
Could I know its long endurance,
Lighter then my heart would be,
Give me but that dear assurance,
Then I'd live and love but thee.

I like but not a night's flirtation,
Scenes that never bring forth joy,
They dull each happy expectation,
Every blissful thought alloy;
Could I know that nought would sever
Hopes that linger night and day,
Then I'd call you mine for ever,
Pretty sweetheart, Jessie May.

Oblige ivrybody if ye can, an' if ye cannet, dinnet hinder onybody else for dein't.

Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890.

Subject: Lyr Add: Sally Wheatley's Comments On The Luv Let
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 11 May 17 - 07:27 AM

Sally Wheatley's Comments
On The Luv Letter She Got Frae Charley Black, The Keyside Clerk.

SCENE.-The Hoose where Sally leeves-Sally I' the Kitchen, sittin reedin the last Luv Letter she got frae Charley Black (that's her lad, ye knaw).

SALLY.-Poatry agyen, bliss me, what a queer lad he is; what a
heedpiece he hes, aw sav, but aw wish he wad rite it i' the Newcassel tung,-aw's fairly bamboozled wi' se monny fine words.

(Reeds.)

How oft in lonely moments have I sought
A sweet repose in calm poetic thought,
To recall past joys, and each hope extol,
To light the darkness of a yearning soul.

Gudness grayshus me, what can Charley mean? He cannet for a moment imadgin that aw meant owt serious when aw went te Jesmond Gardens wi' Jimmy Allan. Aw's sure Jimmy's a greet frind 0' mine, an' aw might as weel turn jealous me-sel an' say sumthing, for it diddent luck varry weel 0' Charley settin Hannah Broon hyem frae the dancin at Mrs. Elliott's. Aw wassent hawf pleased when Peggy Morrison tell'd us aboot it.

Our hearts were not made to be thrown away,
Or FIRST LOVE born to live but for a day;
'Mid forms and faces made to charm the eye,
First Love may sleep but it can never die!

Whey, that is nice i-it just puts us i' mind 0' the neet when Charley an' me had wor forst wawk throo Friday Fields. What a neet that was, aw say! Aw's sure aw varry nigh fainted when Charley tell'd us that aw wes his" forst an' only luv;" His voice trimmild se, an' he luck'd se frighten'd like, poor lad. Maw bonny Charley!

Could we believe that whilst there's doubt there's hope,
How soon might sadness with despair elope.

Aw wad far seuner see Charley elope wi' me, but thor's nyen ov that noo-a-days. What fun thor mun heh been when aud Nelly Simpson's granmuther's greet granfethur ron away wi' Mistress Murphy (a widow body that leeved next door, an' a distant relayshun te Betty McGill that keeps a mangle at the tuther side 0' the street) te Gretna Green, an' got a blacksmith te marry them wiv a hammer. But aw dinnet knaw what te myek 0' Charley, he hes ne confidence like; an' it dissent luck wee! the lasses deein a' the coortin thorsels, aw's sure it dissent!

'Twas so with me-if truth must now be told,
I thought of thee-pray do not deem me bold;
For when the heart is full the tongue must speak,
On paper even consolation seek.

Consolayshun on paper, hooiver i' the world will he find consolayshun on paper? Aw wish Charley had niver written poatry, Ye cannet myek these fellows oot at a. Wad ye believe he actwilIy said it wes a greet releef tiv his feelins, when he cud put doon his thowts on paper? the silly lad, when he might hey cum an'tell'd me what he wes put aboot aboot, an' where will he find better consolayshun? Charley, if ye only knew't !

Your smile shone on me like a sunny morn, Affection hoped and cherished a return,
But when your looks grew cold, hope disappear-d,
And bitter feelings in its place career'd;
I thought another, much more happy, he
Had claim'd the heart I thought belong'd to me.

Iv a' yor life did ye ivor see such a jealous lot 0' mortals as the men foaks. Aw've nivor had ony peace since Jimmy Allan per swayded us te hey a wawk wiv him.

Then into folly-which I now repent,
I heedless rush'd-s-say, love, can you relent?

Relent! aw think aw can, but it dissent luck weel gein in thereckly. Aw'll plague him a bit forst. Aw knaw varry weel what folly he's hintin at, the slee deevll, He hessent forgettin settin Hannah hyem frae Elliott's dancin yit.

Forgive and favour, if you still are free,
My earnest wish to live and love but thee;
Then once more o'er me let your spell be thrown,
That I may can you-Sarah, dear, mine own!

SARAH! what a funny soond that hes te be sure, an' it's me reet nyem tee. He wants te call me his awn! it's a' settled, it's a sartinty it's settled; he just needs te ax me fethur an' muther, for it's a' reet wi' me. Jinny Thompson's promised us the mahogany tyeble that stands aside the clock, an' me Uncle Bob's gan te myek us a prisint ov a feather bed an' two chairs an' a candlestick he bowt second-hand the tuther day, so thor's glorious prospects, an' if Charley cannel myek eneuff te keep us cumfortable, aw'll gan te wark me-sel (aw's a cap myeker), for thor's ne disgrace iv a wummin workin as lang as thor's ne bairns i' the road.

Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890.

Subject: Lyr Add: What Ye Shud Weer A' Throo The Eer! As
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 11 May 17 - 07:31 AM

What Ye Shud Weer A' Throo The Eer!
As Reccommended Be Wor Geordey An' Wor Peg An' A'. Jenny Whory.

GEORDEY.-A happy new eer-an' the best 0' gud cheer,
Aw wish ye may get ivry day throo the eer ; .
Noo's the time, hinnies, for yor wrappers an' coats,
An' mufflers te hinder yor hevin sair throats.

PEG.-Noo lasses, maw hinnies, luck weel te yor feet,
An' divvint heh corns on yor toes te luck neet;
Wi' strang beuts, an' pattins, an' britches cumpleet,
An' two pair 0' shawls, ye may pass throo the sleet.

FEBOORARY.

GEORDEY.-The wethor keeps dreery, still ye munnit be flaid,
But stick te the coats, tho the tailor's not paid
For thor's Jimmy the snip, that leeves on the Kee,
He nivor pays Qwt,-so it's a' reet wi' ye!

PEG.-Dinnet mind what Geordey advises the men,
If they dinnet pay him, wad he let them alyen?
Weer lang cloaks an' sealskins myed 0' gudstuff;
Dogs skin stuffed wi' straw myeks a varry gud muff.

MAIRCH.

GEORDEv.-Pork-pies may be wore i' the stomick just noo,
Dinnet mind cullors for yor nose 'Il turn bloo
Wi' keen winds that blaw frae the frost-bitten west,
For Windy cumplaints Woodcock's Pills is the best.

PEG.-Reed petticoats noo gain thor early renoon,
If ye get a gud un-dispense wi' the goon,
For when up the waist, the goon's nivvor seen;
Reed fethors leuk weel te the bonnet that's green.

YEPRIL.

GEORDEv.-UmborelIas are useful i' these kind d days,
Wi' top-coat abuv, ye may weer the aud claes ;
At Easter let dark for leet suits change places,
Save up just noo, an' yor reet for the races.

PEG.- Ye munnit gan oot if yor stockins not clean,
I' rain, lasses' legs cannet help but be seen;
Use ne umborellas, withoot thor's ne shem,
Let sum canny chep tyek an' shelter ye hyem,

MAY.

GEORDEY.-A leet suit lucks weel i' the first fashun cut,
Wi' greet peg-top pockets-tyek pains hoo ye strut;
A gud suit 0' claes lucks like nowt on the back,
Ov a chep that 'ill walk as if tied iv a sack.

PEG.-White Hats, wi 'reed tabs, wi' green leeves is the best,
A bright yallow shawl myeks foaks stare when yor drest;
A goon dubbil-skirted suits weel a smart waist
Dinnet leeve the hoose withoot byeth yor beuts laced.

JOON.

GEORDEY.-Minadge men just noo heh thor wark te get paid,
Te lie oot thor munny aw've heerd's pairt thor trade;
It's time for the races-so lads, get yor claes ;
Straw hats may be wore if the blunt ye can raise.

PEG.-Race Sunday,maw hinnies, 'ill cum roond at last;
Aw wish it wes here, an' then greeve it's gyen past,
For there aw gat Geordey when seekin a lad
Silk goons, an' leet capes, just noo dissent luck bad.

JOOLY.

GEORDEY.-For pic-nics an' trips ye had better prepare;
A greet big broad check, if it issent threed-bare,
Suits weel for excorshuns ;-a ten-shillin' hat
Leuks weel on a chep full 0' gud-temper'd fat.

PEG.-Fine muslins leuk nice gently blawn wi' the breeze,
Ye munnet weer stays if ye want a gud squeeze;
Smart petticoats frill'd wi' the best 0' blue crape
Leuks weel wi' the hoops, if yor foot's a gud shape.

AWGIST.

GEORDEY.-Black claes is the best that a fellow can buy,
They leuk se genteel, aw'd advise ye te try
A suit just like this, for they'll suit ivry day
Dorty shoes dissent leuk weel te such a display.

PEG.-Black velvet roond hats trim'd wi' ribbin bright reed, Wi' black an' white fethors a gem for the heed; Kid gluves an' white stockins, an' fine flooncy goon, 'Ill suit ony lass i' the country or toon.

SIPTEMBOR. GEORDEY.-Siptembor's the time for the men te weer tweeds,
Soft hats is the things for the cheps wi' soft heeds;
Aw wad change the neck-ties for sumthin that's thick,
An eye-glass leuks weel on a swell wiv a stick!

PEG.-Sum bonny corn heeds, for the season's forst-class,
Stuck annunder the hat ov a gud-leukin' lass;
Wi' leaves that'll rival the Leazes, se green,
An' a dress myed 0' Linsey, she'llieuk like a queen.

OCTOBER. GEORDEY.-Darkneets set in noo,so the bestaw can say
For Chrismis te bundle yor best cIaes away
Econmy's the study for maister an' man,
So tyek me advice, an' ye'll try the best plan.

PEG.-Green goons an' white shawls is an improvement aw think,
Wi' sleeves nice an' full, trim'd wi' ribbin rose-pink,
Lang ringlets, hair oily, wi' gantlets bran new,
Myed 0' the best paper, might stonish a few.

NOVEMBER.

GEORDEY.-White waistcoats, stiff collors, broon troosers an' coat,
White hats an' blue chokers tied tight roond the throat,
Leuk weel at a dancin', so try these, me lad,
If ye gan withoot claes yor sure te catch cawd.

PEG.-Blue goons an' white stockins just noo 'ill not fail
Te cawse greet attrackshun-wi' bright yallow veil;
Broon tabs an' black muslins leuks weel wiv a lass
That nivor at winter times leaks i' the glass.

DISSEMBOR.

GEORDEY.-Cawd neets an' cawd mornins cum roond us like fun,
The eer like the fashun's just noo's neerly deun;
Reed mufflers, big wrappers, an' gluves hae the sway,
Wor Peg knaws the rest, for aw's lickt what tesay.

PEG-Long cloaks, knickerbockers, plum puddin an' spice
The grocer's grand prissint, just noo, swalleys nice;
Gud lasses, maw hinnies, leuk oot for a lad,
At Chrismis thor's plenty te get i' the squaSource: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890.

Subject: Lyr Add: Chambers An' Sadler -The Championship Br
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 11 May 17 - 07:35 AM

Chambers An' Sadler
-The Championship Browt Back Te The Tyne, Nov. 22nd, 1866.

Teun-"Whe's for the Bank."

THE greet event's cum offat last,
The championship it's wun,
Be Chambers, pride ova' Tyneside,
The Cocknies thor ootdeun;
Tho two te one they laid upon
Thor man te get first place,
An' badly used the Tyneside lad,
Bob Chambers wun the race.

Korus.

Then oh, lads, join i' the sang,
An' sing i' praise 0' brave Bob Chambers;
Oh, lads, join i' the sang,
The championship he's wun!

The Cocknies thowt thor man had nowt
Te de but run away Frae
Brave aud Bob, but faith the job
Wes hard eneuff, they say,
For Chambers, iv his gud aud style,
Tho wesh'd on ivry side
Be Sadler's tretchrous steam-boat crew,
Browt doon the Cockney's pride.

When Sadler fund that he wes lickt,
He pull'd across his man,
An' foul'd brave Bob, that nivvor myed
Such dirty wark his plan;
For Chambers, win or loss a race,
As game as man can be,
He always lets them heh fair-play,
That's mair then Cocknies de.

The steamboats still kept.up thor wesh,
An' tried myest a' they knew,
Te swamp the little "Coaly Tyne,"
But on she nobly flew,
Throo a' the swell the rascals myed
The race at last wes run,
An' Chamber, gud aud honest Bob,
The championship had wun,

Then sing,for Bob, the best man yit
That ivor pull'd an oar,
Let's wish him luck when iv his skiff,
An' happiness on shore;
An' may his days be lang an' glad,
An' lads, this wish is mine,
May he fiorish as the champion ov
The Thames as weel as Tyne.

-Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890.

Subject: Lyr Add: A Welcum! Te Bob Chambers Efter His Defe
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 11 May 17 - 07:38 AM

A Welcum! Te Bob Chambers Efter His Defeat For The Championship.

TEUN-"John Anderson, my jo,"

Yor welcum back agyen, Bob,
Yor welcum te yor hyem,
Victorious tho ye cuddint be,
Yor welcum still the syem;
Ye've struggled hard te keep yor nyem
Untainted wi' defeat,
But Bob, yor life's just like wor awn,
Ye've bitter's weel as sweet.

Yor we1cum back agyen, Bob,
Yor welcum te the Tyne,
Where ye've displayed yor manly skill,
So dinnet ye repine;
Keep up yor heart, the day may cum
When luck 'ill turn agyen,
Hard wark 'ill tell on iron frames,
An' wettor weers a styen!

Ye've proov'd yor-sel a star, Bob,
That's kept its lustre lang,
But cloods 'ill dull the brightest star,
The best sumtimes gets rang,
An' man, Jor high amang the best
That ivor pull'd an oar,
We'll not forget,-tho beat the day,
The wundors deun before.

The nyem 0' Chambers, honest Bob,
Aw's sure 'ill nivor dee,
The brave, the game undaunted man
That struggled hard te be
The hero ov a hundrid spins,
The champion frae Tyneside,
That kept the world se lang at bay,
The lickt, yor still wor pride!

-Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890.

Subject: Lyr Add: The Landlord's Dowter
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 11 May 17 - 07:41 AM

The Landlord's Dowter

TEUN-" Matilda Baker."

Aw's one 0' the luckiest lads that's oat,
At least that's what they tell us,
An' before aw's deun, thor's nyen 'ill doot
The fortin that's befell us;
Aw's efter, aw think, the finest lass
That ivor was created,
Her fethur,-he keeps a pubilic hoose,
Se nobly she's related.

Korus

This fine-luckin lass for a queen might pass,
An' a queen aw've often thowt her,
An' aw's the lad if ye want te knaw'd,
That's en for the landlord's dowter.

Whenivor she gets an order for two
For consorts or theatre,
She sends for me an' away we gan,
Man, she's a real forst-rater;
Tho aw knaw she drinks upon the sly,
Aw waddint say owt tiv her,
For the time might cum, an' aw hope it will,
When aw can tipple wiv her.

Aw've seen when aw've laid a sixpence doon,
Aw've got change for a shillin,
An' if ivor she thinks aw's onyway dry,
Te quench me thirst she's willin;
An' aw've seen when aw've order'd half 0' rum,
She's gien us half 0' brandy,
An' aw's sartin the lass that behaves se weel
'Ill myek a wife that's handy.

Her fethur he thinks aw's up te the mark,
An' she thinks thor's nyen truer,
An' the aud man says aw'll be lanlord there
As seun as he turns brewer;
At a pawnshop, cheap, the tuther day,
The weddin ring aw bowt her;
So lads, luck oot for an open hoose,
When aw marry the lanlord's dowter.

Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890.

Subject: Lyr Add: Charley's Run Away.
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 11 May 17 - 07:44 AM

Charley's Run Away.

TEUN - "Little Dick."

WOR Charley's run away frae hyem,
They say he's gyen te sea;
Aw's sure we've a' been kind te him,
As kind as we cud be;
Then oh, whativor myed him d't,
What myed him gan away?
He little knaws the grief he's caws'd
Throo what he's deun the day.

He often said he'd leeve the toon,
But hoo cud we beleeve
He'd myek the hoose se wretched like,
An' cawse us a' te greeve?
Aw's sure he's nivor gien a thowt
Tiv us poor foaks at hyem,
His muther's nearly oot her heed,
His fethur's just the syem.

He's only just sixteen eers awd,
Se wild and thowtless tee,
He's been weel offan' diddent knaw'd,
What will he be at sea?
He'll miss the cumforts ov his hyem,
The cumforts thrawn away;
An' then find plenty time te rue
His heedstrang wark the day.

His muther, poor sowl, hoo she frets,
Aw's frighten'd she'll gan mad,
She lucks as if her heart wad brick
Aboot the wilful lad;
His fethur's sowt a' roond the toon,
An' miles beyond in vain,
But Charley cannet hear thor moans,
He cannet tell thor pain.



-Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890.

Subject: Lyr Add: Hinny, Dinnet Cry
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 11 May 17 - 07:49 AM

Hinny, Dinnet Cry

TEUN-" Spanish Fandango Walse."

THOR tellin tyels 0' me, me luv, but dinnet thoo beleeve,
De ye think that aw wad try te win yor heart, an' then disseve?
Oh no, aw'd rethur welcum deeth, an'bid the world gud-bye,
Then harm ye wiv a single breeth, so hinny, dinnet cry!

Korus.

TEUN-" The Hurdy-Gurdy Lad!"

So, hinny, dinnet cry, or ye'll spoil them eyes se bonny,
Ay, hinny, dinnet cry, an' ye munnit luck se sad;
For iv a' the lasses that thor is, aw like ye best ov any,
So ye munnit fall oot wi' me, me pet, or ye'll myek us varry bad!

They say aw court anuther lass the time aw gan wi' ye,
But spite 'ill myek them say such things, te turn yor heart frae me.
Upon me oath-aw's true as steel, aw'd scorn te tell a lee;
Is maw word not as gud as theirs? can ye not trust i' mer

So wipe yor eye-an' dinnet cry, or let the reed-rose fade
Frae off yor cheek-te hey i' place the lily's deeth-like shade;
Cheer up, maw pett-the past forget, an' dry away the tears,
An' let yor sweet aud-fashun'd smile dispel yor jillis fears!

-Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890.

-

Subject: Lyr Add: The Sunderland Trip!
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 11 May 17 - 07:51 AM

The Sunderland Trip!

TEUN-" Me Blue-Ey'd Sal 0' the Bull Ring."

WOR Peg an' me myed up wor minds te hey a trip one day,
So on board ov a boat for Sunderland doon the wetter we myed wor way;
But, oh! when we got oot te sea, poor Peg began te thraw!
An' te see the tears rowlin doon her cheeks wad melted a heart 0' snaw !

Chant.
Says she, "Marcy me, Joe, awfeel varry bad, is Sunderland varry far noo?
Aw nivor imadgind the boat wad hike se, an' the spray's myed us nearly wet throo;
Aw wish we war there, or at Tinmuth, or Sheels, as lang as we get on dry land,
For aw think aw'll fall ower the boat when aw sit, an' aw cannit for all the world stand."

Korus.
An' ay, but Peggy's a cawshun, a cawshun ye'll agree,
An' aw'l! nivor forget that Sunderland trip,
When Peggy went there wi' me.

Teun.
At last we byeth got safe on land, an Peggy's claes myed dry,
Be the kitchin fire iv a public-hoose she stud heevin many a sigh;
Aw ordered halfs 0' brandy het,-says she, "Aw still feel queer,
What a pity, Joe, that the brandy's not the syem price as Mackey's beer."

Chant.
So aw thowt,-then we set off te see Charley Watson, a frind 0' both Peggy's an' mine,
There aw saw she was myekin the bitter beer flee, so aw thowt that aw'd better drink wine
Te keep me-sel stiddy, te tyek care 0' Peg, for the truth on't whenivor she's full
She'll kick up such a rowan' she'll lead such a tung that the {oaks set her doon as a feul !

Korus

Teun,
Then airm an' airm wi' Peg aw went up High Street, blithe an' gay,
The foaks a' stopt, an' they stared at Peg, for she's one ye'Il not see ivry day;
When i' the Park amang the fiooers, says she, "Man, here it's grand,
An' hivvin 'ill surely be like this,-if they'll tyek in the bobby's band."

Chant.
Then eftor we'd been a full oor i' the park, i' Bridge Street we myed a full stop,
For Peggy declared for the gud ov her hilth she wad just hey anuther "wee drop."
When i' High Street agyen, iv a whisper says she, "Aw take notis 0' foaks as they pass us,
An' aw really believe, lad, i' this bonny toon that the poplation's nearly a' lasses l"

Korus

Teun.
Then higher up the toon wewent an' myed a real gud tea,
"It's nearly as gud as aw myek me-sel," says Peg wiv a wink te me;
The lanlady she luckt amazed, but her smiles turn'd tiv a froon
When Peg proposed te stand on her heed an' sing the "cure," upside doon !

Chant.
Then we set off agyen for a walk roond the toon, as we'd myed up wor minds for the train,
For Peggy wad nivor gyen back i' the boat, besides she wes meant for a drain;
Seclosete the stayshun, i' Leetheed's at last, she astonish'd the foaks i' the bar
"Vi' tossin a chep for the glasses a' roand,-ay, an' smokin a crackin segar.

Korus.


-Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890.

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 11 May 17 - 06:05 PM

thanks- corrected:

IN MEMORY OF THE HARTLEY CATASTROPHE

January 16th, 1862.

By which 204 Mm and Boys were buried alive in New Hartley Pit.

By the watch-fire's glow, 'mid the falling snow,
There reigns a death-like gloom,
Whilst prayers are murmured for those below
Immur'd in a living tomb.

With a tearless eye, and despairing sigh,
Too sad, too griev'd to weep,
The watcher's wild and heart-rending cry
Is heard on the cold pit-heap.

'Mid the shaft's foul air, the brave searchers dare
Its dangers to defy;
"Have mercy, 0 God!" is the last sad prayer
Of the miners doom'd to die.

Again from below, to the scene of woe
The searchers bold appear,
Their words breathe hope, while their glances show
Dread signs of desponding fear.

Seven days have pass'd, they are found at last,
Too LATE, sweet life to save,
For death's mighty spell is o'er them cast,
In that dark and fearful grave.

Breathe forth a prayer for bereav'd ones there,
Whose peace of mind hath fled,
Good Lord, soothe with thy heav'nly care
Those who mourn the hapless dead.

-Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 12 May 17 - 10:13 PM

RENFORTH, THE CHAMPEIN.
-BY
JOE wILSON

TEUN-" the Postman's Knock."

TYNESIDE'S lang been fam'd for producin greet men,
Luck at Airmstrang an' Stivvison, tee,
An' Grainger that myed wor fine toon what it is,
An' its bildins thor grand ye'll agree;
But the bildin 0' boats an' boat pullin's wor pride,
An' where, always we try hard te shine,
An' Renforth, a brave hardy Son 0' the North's
Browt the Champeinship back te the Tyne,

Korus.

Then lang may success an' gud hilth combine
Wi' Renforth, the Champein 0' Thames an' the Tyne.

We lost poor Bob Chambers, then sadly we greev'd,
Thor wes nyen but what liked Honest Bob,
An' we sigh'd for anuther te fillup he's place,
Tho' we knew twes a difficult job,
Till Renforth com oot like the man that he is,
For the honour 0' canny Tyneside,
An' te stop him frae tyekin Bob Chambers's place,
The whole world he bravely defied!

Then a challinse wes sent, an' a match thor wes myed
Wi' the best Lundun Champein thor's been,
That's brave Harry Kelley, the Pride 0' the Thames,
An' a finer race nivor wes seen;
For wi' confidence pictor'd on each manly broo,
The North an' the South meet agyen,
Thor ready!-thor offl-then the struggle begins,
As the crood roar an' cheer for thor men.

Incorridg'd be cheers frae thor frinds all aroond,
Thor byeth strivin hard for the leed,
An' then the North Countrymen shoot wi' delight,
As they see thor pet forgin aheed,
Tho Kelley, as game as man ivor can be,
Spurts hard te catch Jimmy, but nay!
The Tynesider's there wi' byeth corridge an' skill,
Ay, an' strength tee te leed a' the way.

The Champeinship's wun, an' it's browt te the Tyne,
A river myed famous wi' men
Like Chambers, the Claspers, Bob Cooper, besides
Jimmy Taylor, an' Perey,-so then
Gud luck te Jim Renforth, lang may he maintain
The honour he noo hauds wi' pride;
An' gud luek tiv his trainer, Jim Taylor, as weel,
An' the boat-pullers a' roond Tyneside !

-Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 12 May 17 - 10:36 PM

LOSSIN THE LICENCE!

TEUN-" The Uppur Ten."

THE leets burn'd dimly i' the bar,
The lanlord wassent there,
The tyeble wes a' thick 0' dart,
The koonter had its share;
An' ivrything luckt oat 0' place,
The lanlady her-sel
Wes fair dooncast, an' frev her lips
This doleful ditty felI

Korus.
" Thor's nowt on orth me heart te cheer,
Me heart te cheer, aw'm wretched here,
For thor issent a thing i' the hoose but beer,
Throo wor Geordey wi' lossin the Licence!

"This used te be a peaceful port,
But noo life's bitter here,
Me temper once wes sweet an' mild,
But noo aw cannet beer
The thowts that myek us w(h)ine a' day,
Me sporrits thor se law,
The Rector cannot keep the hoose,
An' the baccy is ne draw.

"The beer 'iIllike the trade turn flat,
Wor nearly sure te fail,
We'll need sum good supporters,
As we heh nowt else but ale,'
The glasses they'll a' gan tepot,
Then bottled up we'll be,
Aw find aw'm not near half as stoot,
It's ne sham pain wi' me !

"The sellors nearly empy noo,
An' buyers very rare,
It's rum te think such changes cum,
Such dull times issent fair
An' Geordey, like the sheep he is,
He's gyen upon the spree,
Aw'll punch his heed te think he'd leeve
An ail-in wife like me.

"It's true they fined him once or twice,
Or twice or thrice or mair,
Ye'd thowt twad been a cawshun,
But wor Geordey diddent care;
An'throo a quairt 0' penny beer,
Wor trade an' Licence's gyen,
He diddent treat the Bobbies wee!,
Or they'd lettin him alyen !


--Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 13 May 17 - 12:24 PM

THE DEETH 0' BOB CHAMBERS!

AIR-" Come into my Cabin, Red Robin."

l' THE gloom thor's aroond bonny Tyneside,
'Mang the greef that's se bad te contain,
When all honest hearts mourn for thor champien,
Wi' breests fill'd wi' sadness an' pain,
Aw'll sing i' the praise 0' Bob Chambers,
The manliest, the gamest, an' true.
He's alive i' the hearts ova' Tyneside,
Tho we've lost wor poor " Honest Bob" noo.

Fareweel te the days when Bob Chambers
Wes wor idol, wor pet, an' wor pride,
When he set the whole world at defiance-
Brave champein 0' canny Tyneside.
When aw think ov his'sowl-storrin races,
Aw can hardly believe that he's gyen
l' the prime ov his life;-hoo Deeth's hurried,
-But thor's LIFE still iv Honest Bob's nyem.

Fareweel te the canny Bob Chambers,
A man for his honesty famed;
Strite-forward, an' kind, noble-hearted,
Wor champein such qualities c1aim'd.
Ay, an' what's mair, we knaw he possess'd them;
Oh, then, hoo can we help but repine
For the hero that's gain'd wor affecshun,
Like this brave hardy son 0' the Tyne.

Fareweel te the world's finest champein;
An' defeated be Deeth tho ye be,
It cannot tyek ye frae wor hearts, lad;
An' yor form lang i' mem'ry we'll see.
We've been prood-ay, an' still wor prood 0' ye;
An' yor brave deeds for ivor 'ill shine
Throo the gloom thor's been myed wi' greet sorrow,
For the Champein an' Pride 0' the Tyne.

Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 13 May 17 - 12:37 PM

ETTICKITT!

TEUN-"The Biskit Man."

Aw'vs lately studied Ettickitt,
An' think it's sumthing grand
Te knaw hoo te behave yor-sel,
An' when te sit an' stand,
Iv ony kump'ney that yor in;
An' when te myek a boo,
An' the rules 0' gud behavour, whey
Aw's gawn te tell ye noo !

Korus.

For this is the way te behave yor-sel,
Think 0' me words an' tyek a spell,
Laybror, Mickanic, an' the tip-top swell,
Shud study the rules aw sing!

Ye've heerd that manners myeks the man,
Fine feathors myek fine bords,
That dissent say ye heh te dress
Mair then yor means affords:
Dress canny like,-yor stayshun keep,
An' divvent spoil yor breed,
A fact'ry lass wad nivvor seem
Curl-paypors iv her heed.

A workin man shud nivvor gan
Te wark i' Sunday's claes,
Withoot he's got nowt else te weer.
A lass withoot her stays
Shud keep i' doors, an' nivvor show
The real size ov her waist,
An' nivvor put her gluves on when
Her hands all ower pyest!

I' convorsayshun, nivvor shoot
Withoot sumbody's deef,
An' nivvor mair then three shud speak
At one time's maw beleef;
An' if ye think ye've tell'd a lee,
Keep't te yor-sel, an' say
Ne mair aboot what ye've let oot,
Repent when yor away.

If foaks shud myek a mornin call,
An' ye shud be i' bed,
Just say yor oot an' not at hyem,
Heh ne excuses myed;
An' if they call at dinner-time,
An' ye've not got eneuff,
Just heh yor awn an' let them gan,
Suppose they tyek the huff

If ye invite sum frind te tea,
Tell them yor not prepared,
Aw nivvor saw a hoosewifeyit
But just the syem declared;
An' if the tea gets ower strang,
The kettle's on the neuk,
Te let ye knaw thor's wetter there,
If ye wad only luck.

At borths an' krisnins say yor glad
Te see se fine a bairn;
At deeths yor sad, yecannet help't,
Ye've nowt i' that te Iairn ;
At weddins jump an' dance wi'joy,
An' let the foaksa' see
Ye knaw what Ettickitt shud be,
Ay, just as weel as me!


Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 13 May 17 - 12:49 PM

JUST A HAPNEY

Music by the Author.

"JUST a hapney I-nivvor mind it!
Ye needint say a word,
We'll nivvor let a trashy meg
Between us myek discord ;
It may be yor mistyek or mine,
The change's gettin rang sum way,
But ahapney's neethor here nor there!"
Aw heard this iv a bar one day,
Just a hapney! just a hapney!
Thrawn away-dispised.

"Just a meg !-we'll nivvor find it,
It's ower dark the neet,
Te seek for just a paltry hapney
Fallin i' the street;
Then let it gan, we'll nivvor miss'd,
Aw waddent soil ma fingors for'd,
For a hapney's neethor here nor there!"
Aw heard agyen them varry words,
Just a hapney I just a hapney!
Thrawn away-dispised.

"Just a hapney !-if awhad one,
A biskit aw wad buy,
For oh, aw's varry hung'ry noo,"
Aw heard a laddy cry.
He got one,-an' his eyes they glissin'd,
Says he-"This hapney's life te me,
But aw'll tyek't hyem, becas me muther
Wants breed just as much as me I"
Just a hapney I just a hapney!
Wi' sum hoo dearly prized!

Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 13 May 17 - 01:02 PM

MOOR EDGE NELL!

TEUN-"Haymaking."

THOR'S a lass aw alwaysdream aboot, for ivor neet an' day,
She's nivvor oat me thowts at a', an' aw hope she nivvor may,
Tho' aw hevvent been owt like me-sel since that eventful day
Aw met me bonny Nelly on the Moor Edge.

Korus.

TEUN-"Bide ye yit."

Me Moor Edge Nell, me bonny young Nell,
What aw think 0' that lass thor's nebody can tell;
She's bonny, she's canny,-gud luck te me-sel,
If aw's only the sweetheart 0' Moor Edge Nell.

Her greet Shinon shone bright an' reed as a rival te the sun,
Her bonny fyece se roond an' plump cud clean eclipse the meun,
An' her eyes they twinkled like two stars that Sunday efterneun
Aw met me bonny Nelly on the Moor Edge.

Aw introduced me-sel te her, tho byeth ov us wes shy,
She luckt at me an' aw luckt at her, an' foakslucktpassin by,
But byeth ov us had tungs te speak, an' cud did when we'd try,
An' we really got quite frindly on the Moor Edge.

Aw call her Moor Edge Nell becas aw divvent knaw her nyem,
Tho aw heerd sumbody call her Nell as we war gannin hyem;
Awthowt it soondid bonny, so aw've gein her just the syem,
An' we heh te meet next Sunday on the Moor Edge.

The palpitation o'the heart since the aw've refund's me share,
An' aw've got a poor man's plaistor on te try an' stiddied there;
But like a muffled drum it beats, an' will de, aw declare,
Till aw meet me bonny Nelly on the Moor Edge.

Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 13 May 17 - 02:02 PM

PARSIVEER!
OR, AVD TOMMY'S ADVICE TIV HIS SON JACK.

TEUN.-"Little Dick."

"DRAW near yor chair, maw bonny lad,
An' lissen te me words,
An' hear yor fethur's best advice
Expeerience affords,
Ye see we've got a canny hyem,
Thor's nowt but cumfort here,
Ye'll wundor hoo !- aw'll tell ye,
Jack, We always parsiveer!

Suppose aw've just a pund a week,
Three shillins clears the rent,
An' hard tho' aw may struggle for'd,
It's nivvor idly spent.
Yor muther tyeks gud care 0' that,
Her man an' bairns te cheer,
A'gud wife myeks her husbind knaw
The way te parsiveer!

At forst we diddent 'gree forst-rate,
Like newly-married [oaks,
But she wad nivvor let us fight,
She'd stop me mooth wi' jokes,
Or else sum kind an' luvin word
She knew aw liked te hear,
An' myed us myek a happy hyem,
Te keep't-we parsiveer !

Let shopmates scoff at ye, an' jeer
Aboot bein tied at hyem,
An' if they drink, it dissent say
That ye shud de the syem,
A glass 0' beer may de ye gud,
But tyek ne mair for fear
It leads ye tiv ecksess, so then
Agyenst it parsiveer!

Ye've heard what lots 0' clivor men
Throo drink we cuddent save,
Where one man myeks a fortin wid,
A thoosind finds a grave.
Keep up yor heart, be stiddy, lad,
An' then thor is rie fear
But happy days ye'll find i' store,
Just only parsiveer!

What was't that myed the Stephenson's
An' Airmstrang's greet success?
An' hoo did Grainger myek war toon
Se fine? ye'll eas'ly guess;
The Claspers, an' Bob Chambers, tee,
An' Renforth's great career,
Wad vivvor been, they kwew full weel,
Withoot they'd parsiveer!

Aw've deun a' that a fether cud
Te myek ye a gud trade,
An' if aw've not been one me-sel,
The best 0' bad aw've myed ;
Thor's alwayswark for stiddy cheps,
An' tallints bright an' clear,
Spring raydient frae the workin men
That's meant te parsiveer !"

Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 13 May 17 - 04:27 PM

GALLOWGATE BATHS

TEUN-The Lankishore Lass."

THOR'S a scene amang steam, an' the weshorwife'scream,
That's heard ivry day i' the Gallowgate Wesh-hoose,
An' ye'd fancy yor-sel i' the world 0' dreams,
If ye once had a glimpse 0' the Gallowgate Baths,
For the wivesa' there-they heh ne care,
But te clean the claes that's dorty there,
An' they a' seem equal te thor share
0' the wark at the Gallowgate Baths.

Kortis.

An' they'll chatan' they'll sing,
An'they'l scrub an' they'l ring,
Byeth gud-Iuckin lasses an' wives sethrifty,
They'll poss an' they'll boil,
An' they'll cheerily toil, Frae morning te neet at the Gallowgate Baths.

Ye'll forst see the man that keeps a' the steam gawn,
As blithe as a king, luckin eftor the boilers,
An' he's willin te did, for he knaws that he can,
He's a real canny chep at the Gallowgate Baths;
The complaints ye hear, they cawse such fun,
Such as, "Marcy me I Jack's draw'rs is deun,
Byeth dishcloot an' tool they've been, but seun
They mun bid thor gud-bye te the Baths!"

Says Mary, "Bliss me! yor a weshorwife tee,
Yor swettin, but beer myeks the swet cum oat, lass,
When aw wes a lass aw wes varry like ye,
l' them days we'd nowt like the Gallowgate Baths;
But there's Mally Scott rung her claes afore me,
An' it wassent her turn,-what a hussy is she,
But the forst time that ivor aw get on the spree,
Aw'l! myek her rue gawn te the Baths!"

Says Nanny, "Aw's frighten'd me claes is run short,"
An' she thinks tiv her-sel that she'll mind the mang'il,
Then anuther poor sowl wiv her feelins hurt,
Myeks a doleful lament at the Gallowgate Baths,"
War Geordey's laps thor wore clean throo,
An' it's not lang since the shart wes new,"
Tho he sweers it's wind that's blawn them throo,
She blisses him weel at the Baths!

Says Nelly, "Thor's sumbody gyen wi' me soap,
That 'ill spoil us noo for a full day's weshin,
But if thor in arnist aw only hope
We'll see them ne mair at the Gallowgate Baths!"
"Gud grayshus I" cries Peggy; "me man's clean adrift,
Tho aw did what aw cud te give him a lift,
For wi' maw shimmee he's myekin a shift,
His shart's at the Gallowgate Baths!"

Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 13 May 17 - 04:46 PM

BOB JOHNSON'S COAT!

TEUN-H Cruiskeen Lawn,"

BOB JOHNSON bowt a coat,
An' he teuk a pride te show'd,
For he knew that he had work'd for'd like a man;
But the times they turn'd se bad,
He wes forced te pairt wid, lad,
An' what else cud he de wid but gan an' pawn'd?
Ay, an' pawn'd, It's an awful thing te heh yor claes i' pawn!

For not hawf 0' what it cost,
Tiv his seet it seun wes lost,
Tho he hoped te seun hed oot agyen te weer;
But wi' strikes an' slackness tee,
Thor wes little wark te de,
An' when ye heh nowt iv'rything seems dear,
Varry dear!

So he'd nowt else but his aud claesnoo te weer.
Then times got warse then bad,
An' poor Bob grew varry sad,
When he saw his best coat ticketed for sale,
I' the popshop window there,
Just as if it diddent care
Whe got it, an' Bob Johnson turn'd quite pale,
Varry pale,

Cas he cuddent buy his awn coat there for sale!
He'd lost the ticket tee,
An' what cud the poor sowl de ?
An Ackeydavey wad heh been ne use,
For myest ivrything had went,
Just te help te pay the rent,
An' a shillin wad bowt all iv Johnson's hoose,
What a hoose,

So the ticket te poor Bob wes little use.
Bob tell'd us just last week,
For an oor he cuddent speak,
When he saw his best coat on a fellow'S back,
A greet fop had gyen an' bowt Johnson's coat for next te nowt,
It myed Bob wish te give his jaws a crack,
Wiv a smack,
Te see his best coat on anuther's back!
It's a fact,
The reet place for yor claes is yor awn back!

Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 13 May 17 - 04:58 PM

DE YE SAY SE '?

TEUN-"Wor a Band 0' Bruthers."

OH, me heart's full 0' depresshun,
That aw cannet help expressin,
What ye'll tyek as a confesshun,
0' the luv aw beer for ye;
For aw like ye better, Mally,
Then Nan Robson's dowter Sally,
Tho she's "'Sally in wor Alley,"
Still it's yor the lass for me !

Koddin Korus.

TEUN-"Johnny Smoker."

De ye say se? de ye say se?
Gudness grayshus! de ye say se?
Gudness grashus! de ye say se?

Yis, it's true, Mall, what aw'm sayin,
Tho yor little 'tenshun payin,
Wi' me hopes an' fears yor playin,
Tho it's owt but play te me;
So then pity this sad feelin,
That frae heed te heels is stealin,
An' hev marcy on a keelman,
That wad leeve or dee for ye !

Korus.

Vis, aw say se, yor me dear un,
Then let's hev an answor cheerin,
For a moment stop yor jeerin
On a luv-struck sowl like me,
Then for ivvor aw's yor debtor,
An' aw'll gan te wark far better,
An' aw'll sing when on the wetter,
Wiva heart byeth leet an' free!

Korns.

Vis, aw say se, yor me best un,
An' te ye aw pop the questin,
Ye may really think aw'm jestin,
But aw's seerious as can be;
Then say Yis! aw's iv a hurry,
Aw mun seun gan te me whurry,
If ye say ye winnet marry,
Te the drink aw'll surely flee!
Korus.


Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 13 May 17 - 05:07 PM

THE DEETH 0' HARRY CLASPER.

AJR-"Black-Eyed Susan."

SAD, sad's me heart, an' aw greet full sair,
Beside war hero's lowly bed,
Te think aw'll see me aud frind ne mair,
The frind that forst Tyne famous myed;
The forst an' last 0' wor greet Tyneside men,
Poor Harry Clasper, poor Harry Clasper,
Gyen! for ivor gyen!

Sharp wes the blow, like the leetnin's dart,
Deeth claim'd the vet'ran as its awn,
An' filled wi' pain iv'ry beatin heart
For him we'd luv'd, for him we'd knawn;
The forst boat-builder for wor Tyneside men,
Poor Harry Clasper, poor Harry Clasper,
Gyen! ay, deed an' gyen.

He's left the hyem that he luv'd se weel,
The "Coaly Tyne" his constant pride,
The frinds that lang, lang his loss 'ill feel,
An' luv'd ones that he's left beside;
The forst brave Champein 0' war Tyneside men,
Poor Harry Clasper, poor Harry Clasper,
Gyen, ay, deed an' gyen.

Sair, sair he greev'd when Bob Chambers dee'd,
The world's greet Champein he had myed,
Wi' nyems combined, byeth 0' Tyneside breed,
An' honest upreet life they led,
Two gems, examples for a' Tyneside men,
Poor Harry Clasper, poor Harry Clasper,
An' Bob Chambers gyen!

Fareweel, aud frinds, ye've byeth run yor race,
An' mem'ry whispers this te me,
We'll find ne Champeins te fill yor place,
Tyneside affeckshuns clings te ye;
The forst greet heroes amang Tyneside men,
Poor Harry Clasper, poor Harry Clasper,
Au' Bob Chambers gyen!

Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 14 May 17 - 12:09 PM

THE NEYBOR ABUV

TEUN- "When gud luck shows its fyece."

"Aw's a wummin that minds ne affairs but me awn,"
Says lang Nancy Joblin te me,
"But aw think thor's sum things that a body shud knaw,
An' sum things that a body shud see;
There's the neybor abuv been a fortneet upstairs,
An' aw cannet for munny or Iuv
Get te knaw whe she is,-neethur where she cums frae,
She's a myst'ry that neybor abuv;
Yis she is,
She's a queer un that neybor abuv.

"For lucks she wad pass iv a crood, ye wad say,
An' her figor's not really bad myed;
She's got sofa, chairs, cheeney cups, an' gud ware,
An' a new fower-powl feather bed;
An' a fine chist 0' draw'rs, an' a black satin dress,
An' her hand's nivvor clear ov a gluv;
Aw've thowt she's a widow,-but sometimes aw think not,
She's a myst'ry that neybor abuv;
Yis she is,
She's a queer un that neybor abuv!

"The forst Munday neet she went oot te the play,
On Tuesday she went there agyen,
On Wednesday mornin she nivvor got up,
Had her brickfist i' bed aboot ten,
Got her dinner at three,-nivvor had ony tea;
Be the smell ov her breeth aw cud proove
Thor wes sumthing had gyen doon her throttle mair strang,
She's a cawshun that neybor abuv.
Yis she is,
She's a mazer that neybor abuv.

"On Thursday a sowljor ran briskly upstairs,
An' stopt nearly a' the whole day;
A sailor at neet nearly stopt te dayleet,
An' for days they've gyen on i' that way;
But whichivor's her man aw can nivvor conseeve,
For they all appear'd deeply i' luv;
Ne better is she-then a wummin shud be,
She's a cramper that neybor abuv;
Yis she is,
She's a queer un that neybor abuv!

" But last week a noise myed us open me eyes,
For the sowljor an' sailor had met
On the stairs,-an' a fight like a public-hoose row
Teuk place i' the eyes 0' thor pet;
But she stopt it wi' thrawin dorty wetter doon stairs,
Then she hoy'd them byeth oot wiv a shuv;
Aw've seen them ne mair, neether knaw them nor care,
She's a geezer that neybor abuv!
Yis she is,
She's a cawshun that neybor abuv!"

Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 14 May 17 - 12:22 PM

JACK'S LISTED I' THE NINETY·ITE!

TEUN- "Doran's Ass," or "Finnigan's Wake."

"OH, what's the metter wi' ye, Meg Dawson?
Oh what's the metter wi' ye the day?
Ye luck as if ye war gan demented,
Yor eyes thor stairin just that way!"
"The metter wi' me,-if ye want te knaw then,
Heh ye heard the news frae Mary White?
She says wor Jack for a sowljor's listed,
The heed-strang feul's i' the Ninety-Ite,

"Wiv a lot 0' lads that's se lang been famed
For nowt that's gud, nor they nivor will;
Industrious cheps that wad nivvor work
If they just cud raise a penny gill.
He'll heh teun the shillin te sarve the queen,
Wi' ne idea 0' gannin te fight;
If he thowt thor wes ony chance 0' war,
He wad bid gud-bye te the Ninety-Ite.

"He nivvor liked wark, an' since he wes britch'd
He hessent cared hoo he got his meat;
Wiv his elbows oot he wad trail the streets,
An' the Peelers mark'd him on thor beat.
He wad argey owt for a pint 0' beer,
An' i' dominoes he teuk delite
l' playin a blank tiv a five or six,
They'll not stand that i' the Ninety-Ite.

"On Seturday neets what a swell he was,
Wi' velvet cap an' black curdyroys;
He wes famous for myekin ruffs keep still,
Tho the forst his-sel te myek a noise;
He knew if he married he cuddent keep
A wife,so he teuk one oot 0' spite,
Ay, an' he myed her muther an' her keep him,
A nice young chep for the Ninety-Ite,

"Aw's sartin we'll nivor can buy him off,
For hoo can poor foaks like us did?
What a pity a gud-like fyece an' heed
Like his, shud carry ne brains wid;
Blud's thicker then wetter-that's true eneuff
He's still war awn, tho a cawshun quite,
But bad as he is, they may de him gud,
An' myek him a man i' the Ninety-Ite."

Luv myed Jimmy Jollyfyece walk three miles te se his
sweetheart the barmaid, an' he fund it get that strang
that he cuddent find his way hyem agyen; but paid
five shillins an' costs for the use ov a bed in the New
Pollis Stayshun.

Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 14 May 17 - 12:36 PM

WHERE HEH VE BEEN, LASS'?

TEUN-"Jinny Nettle,"

"WHERE heh ye been, lass? cum an' tell us, Jinny, hinny,
Where heh ye been, lass? stoppin oot se late;
Where heh ye been, lass? cum an' tell yor sister, hinny,
Where heh ye been, lass? lang yeve made us wait;
Aw waddent wundor ye've' been kortin, feelins hortin, wi yor flortin,
Yor play'n the deuse wi' Harry Burton,
Divvent brick he's heart, lass 1"

(Sing the forst fower lines for the Korns.)

"What's that bit frame there, glis'nin like a gooldin ginney?
Is't Harry's portrait ?-heh ye lost yor tung?
What myeks ye frighten'd ?-let us see the pictor, hinny,
Then beside yor awn we'll seun hed nicely hung;
Let's hey a luck, maw canny sister, when aw miss her, hoo aw bliss her,
So cum an' let us cuddle, kiss her,Let us see the portrait! "

Korus.

"What's that aw see, lass? it issent Harry Burton's likeness,
That's Tommy Greener's, ye knaw that he's me lad.
Did he gie ye that ?-tell us, willye, hoo ye got it?
Whe heh ye been with? divvent myek us bad!
Oh, hinny, Jinny, quick an' tell us, for aw's jeIlous,-if the fellow
Fancies ye before yor Bella,Faith aw's fairly deun for! "

Korus.

"Oh, Bella, sister. dinnet think that aw wad harm ye,
Tom gos the portrait, an' tell'd us te gie ye'd;
Doon street we met, an' aw meant te keep't a bit te plague ye,
Noo aw've tell'd ye all aw'm like a pris'ner freed;
Since aw met him aw've been wi' Harry,-canny Harry says he'll marry
Me,-an' noo he's bowt a whurry,
What de ye think 0' that, lass?
That's where aw'vebeen lass,if the truth aw heh to tell ye,
Been wi' me awn lad, canny Harry Burton! "

(Repeat last two lines for last Korus.)

Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 14 May 17 - 12:49 PM

THE MEUN·LEET FLIT !

TEUN-"Ten Thousand Miles Away."

THE neet wes dark, but the cairt wes there,
An' we'd got a frind te drive,
An' we teuk a bottle 0' whiskey wis,
Te keep us all alive,
Te keep us all alive, me lads,
For the times had been se bad,
We'd got ne rent for the lanlord then,
So a meun-leet flit we had.

Korus.

Iv a' the scenes aw knaw,
A meun-Ieet flit beats a',
It myeks ye wundor where ye are,
An' where yor gan te be;
That neet aw'll nivor forget,
When we had the meun-leet flit,
For away on the sly,
Withoot sayin gud-bye,
Wes the best thing we cud de.

The wife had gyen an' packt the things
An' oor or two before,
The bed wesat the windowlang
Afore we reach'd the door;
But when we reach'd the door, me lads,
It seun com tumlin doon,
An' the tyeble wiv a broken leg
Wes next hoy'd oot the room.

The three-legg'd steul fell on Bill's heed,
"Haud on there, mate," he roar'd;
"Shut up, ye feu]," says aw, "be still,"
When doon aw went quite floor'd,
When doon aw went quite floor'd, me lad,
Wi' the bed-pawls on me nose;
"Cum show the leet;" says Jack,
"A' reet," Wi' the poker on his toes.

The crock'ry-ware wes handed next,
Says Bill, "Aw's awful dry
"The clock com tumlin on his fyece,
An' nearly blackt his eye,
An' nearly blackt his eye, me lads,
Its awn fyece strikin his,Says Jack,
"Let's gawn, the cairt's chock-full,
We've mair then wor awn wis!"

We pass'd a street or two quite safe,
An' then the horse wad stop;
The bed-powls, an' the draw'rs as weel,
Com rowlin frae the top,
Com rowlin frae the top, me lads,
An' hoo we a' got hyem
Aw divvent knaw, or dorsint think,
But what a spree we'd then.

Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 14 May 17 - 02:53 PM

MARRY THE LASS!

TEUN-"Billy, me bonny Lad."

MARRY the lass, Sep Riley,
Myek her as gud as yor-sel,
An' then she'll be warse then ivor she wes,
It wes just throo ye she fell;
She once wes a decent bit milk-lass,
As decent as any can be,
N00 a' the foaks luck doon upon her,
An' ye knaw it's just throo ye.

Marry the lass, Sep Riley,
If just te give her a nyem,
For ye knew she once had a gud un,
An' disarves te keep the syem;
She's workin as hard as a lass can,
Te keep her-sel ivry day,
The time 'ill seun cum when she cannet,
Marry her noo-when ye may!

Marry the lass, Sep Riley,
Ye often tell'd her ye wad,
Ye knaw that she thinks a vast 0' ye,
Vor the only lad she's had;
If ye dinnet, aw's sure she'll be heart-broke,
She's gettin warse ivry day,
Ye knaw she hes gossipin neybors,
That divvent care what they say,

Marry the lass, Sep Riley,
If ye'd only seen her cry,
When she thowt nebody beside her,
I' the lane that's just hard by;
Aw's sure it wad myed ye relent, lad,
It wad turn a heart 0' styen,
Te hear the poor thing when she'ssobbin,
Sobbin an' sighin alyen!

Marry the lass, Sep Riley,
She'll myek ye a canny bit wife,
Tho aw's sartin she's ower gud for ye,
For ye've been her bane throo life;
Her fethur 'ill set up the hoose, lad,
Her muther 'ill help her, tee,
So marry, an' give her a nyem, lad,
If ye divvent=-poor thing, she'll dee!

Marry the lass, Sep Riley,
Bliss ye! ye say that ye will,
An' ye'll nivvor heh cawse te repent it,
Vor heart's i' the reet place still;
Aw'll tell her it's settled for Sunday,
Poor lass, it 'ill myek her glad,
So let's hey a gill on the heed on't,
An' two eftor that, me lad.

Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 14 May 17 - 03:04 PM

MISTRESS THOMSINS LODGER

TEUN- "Ow Mary."

Aw warn'd ye've heard 0' Rodger?
That's Mistress Thomsin's lodger,
He's teun his hook, an' sloup'd them a',
An', ay, but he's a dodger;
He's got se much i' debt there,
He's caws'd them a' te fret there,
They nivvor thowt he'd be se bad,
For he wes a greet pet there!

Korus

" Oh! Mistriss Thomsin,
What will ye de?" says a' the neybors;
"Oh, Mistriss Thomsin,
Yor lodger, Rodger's ron away."

He korted Thomsin's dowter,
Tho mony a lad had sowt her,
She thowt se much 0' Rodger, faith,
That money waddent bowt her;
He wun thor whole affeckshuns,
Wi' boasts 0' high conneckshuns,
An' wheedling wayshe got thor praise,
But noo it's awful vexin.

He's a quarter back i' rent, tee,
Besides sum money lent, tee,
The landlady advanced him owt,
An' away wi' all he went, tee.
What bad, what mean behavour,
Te pay the aud wife's labour
Wi' nowt but base ingratitude,
Besides he jew'd the neybors!

Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 14 May 17 - 08:48 PM

WE'LL NIVVOR INVlTE THEM TE TEA ONY MAlR!

TEUN-"TheLain! 0' Cockpen."

THE tyeble luckt canny, an' cosey, an' full,
An' aw sat wi' the bairn on wor aud three-leg'd steul,
An' its muther luckt really as happy as me,
For that day we'd invited sum frinds te thor tea.

Thor wes Dick an' Nan Temple, two frinds that we'd knawn
As a canny young lass an' a canny young man,
They had faithfully promised that Sunday at three,
Wi' two or three mair frinds, te cum an' tyek tea.

So wor Mally myed up, on the Seturday neet,
Bowt spice loaf an' fancy kyecks, ivrything sweet,
An' wi jillies an' marmilades really myed free,
Fairly meant te luck decent when frinds com te tea.

So on Sunday, when dinner wes ower that day,
Like a gud handy hoosewife she clear'd things away,
An' wor new tyeble-cloth, just as white as cud be,
Had a real grand invitin appearance for tea.

The cups wes a' set, an' the wigs nice an' het
Wes butter'd, then cut upse neat be me pet,
An' the bairn, wiv a lump iv its hand, full 0' glee,
Seem'd te knaw thor wes sumbody cummin te tea.

The clock had gyen two, an' then three, an' half-past,
We porswayded wor-sels it wes ivor se fast,
For we all had gud payshuns till fower let's see,
If they diddent cum seun we wad heh wor awn tea!

When five o'clock struck, man, aw hardly cud speak,
An' me wife, wi' the blud rushin a' tiv her cheek,
Smash'd two cups, oot 0' humour wivher awnsel an' me,
We sat doon without ivor a word te wor tea.

Iv a' disappointments-aw pity the fate
0' them doom'd for promises broken te wait,
When they once did te me, whey aw firmly declare,
That aw'll nivor invite them te tea ony mair!

Aw wad like te shake hands wi' the man that can
please iverybody. He mun be one d them phinomenons
that ne generation 'ill iver leeve te see.



-Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 14 May 17 - 08:56 PM

HE WES RECKOND GUD·HEARTED!

TEUN-"Erin, my Country."

BOB REPTON wes reckond a gud-hearted fellow,
As gud an' kind-hearted as ony can be,
For spending his muney he waddent be thwarted,
But treat onybody-when oot on the spree,
At hyem, what a diff'rence, se mean an' se stingey,
He'd hammer the wife,an' the poor bairneys, tee;
An' wi' moans he wad fill a' the hoose, aud an' dingey,
An' myek't just as miserable as it cud be.

Bob Hepton wes reckond a gud-hearted fellow,
Whereivor he show'd his fyece, jolly ye'd say;
He wes pick 0' the sports, an' at dancin or singin,
Wes pride 0' the kumpney, an' king 0' the gay;
The syem time his unhappy wife at hyem starvin,
Wes tryin wi' toilin te aim a bit breed,
An' the bairns wi' thor cries myed the poor body narvis,
Se narvis, she nearly wes oot ov her heed.

Bob Hepton wes reckond a gud-hearted fellow,
Wi' fine tung for wimmin, an' jokes for the men,
An' ne thowts 0' the hyem he had-heartless, disarted
He wad treat them agyen, an' agyen, an' agyen;
The syem time at hyem his poor little son Charley,
Wiv a feverish sickness wes wastin away,
Wi' nqwt else, but only sum wetter an' barley,
Te wet his dry lips a' the neet an' the day.

Bob Hepton wes reckond a gud-hearted fellow,
He knew hoo te humour the foaks that he met;
"A real dashin chep l" they wad whisper amang them,
An' myek him thor plissure, thor pride, an' thor pet;
But at hyem, like ademon, diffishunt 0' feelin,
He'd gloat on the mis'ry successfully myed,
An' false te that hyem-like an imp ova' evil,
A doubbil-fyeced, cruel, heartless life Hepton led.

-Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 14 May 17 - 11:13 PM

MY TWENTY-FORST BIRTHDAY!

THERE'S a time in life when sadness,
Like a shadow disappears,
And our hearts rebound with gladness,
As we welcome coming years;
And the years that's gone before us,
Like a fleeting, happy dream,
Bring back sweet recollections
Of a life that's pass'd serene.
And on each successive birthday,
How we gladly gather round,
And give welcome to that circle
Where true friendship we have found;
And we bless each trusted comrade
With an honest open heart,
The days so bright we prophesied,
Re-echo'd in each heart.

In the earliest prime of manhood,
There's a dear delightful page
In life's history,-one-and-twenty
Is the flower of an age,
And an age when manly feelings
At the festive board abounds,
And the cheering, treasured faces
Of the friends we love, surround
The glad scenes on such occasions;
And on this occasion, I
Give the hand of "auld acquaintance,"
And in this, my best reply,
To the wishes kindly given,
And the health you drink to me,
May you know life's great enjoyment,
And each day as happy be,
As your best of friends could wish you;
And when many years are gone,
May we find that charm in birthdays,
As we do,-when twenty-one!


-Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 14 May 17 - 11:32 PM

LET'S HEV A ROW, BUT DINNET SULK!

A RECITASHUN

"LET's hey a row, but dinnet sulk,
We'd better fight it oat,"
Says Charley Batey tiv his wife,
One day when put aboot;
"Aw'd seuner hey a row just noo,
Then hear ye sigh a' day,
Ye'l! myek us that aw'll leave the hoose,
De ye knaw that it's the pay? "

Let's hey a row, but dinnet sulk,
We hardly spoke last week;
De ye think that aw can leeve wi' ye,
If ye refuse to speak?
What gud can't de yor sulkin se?
We'd better settled noo,
Ye'll myek us de sumthing that's rang,
An' then find time te rue!

"Let's hev a row; but dinnet sulk,
Ye say aw spent the brass
Aw myed last week for owertime,
That vexes ye, me lass;
An' if aw·did-it's reet aw shud,
Ye knaw aw wanted claes,
Aw diddent thraw'd away on drink,
Or any such like ways.

"Let's hey a row, but dinnet sulk,
That froon wes nivvor seen
Upon yor broo, when lad an' lass,
We byeth had turn'd iteteen;
Ye'll not speak yit,-ye'll myek us flee
Te drink, or sumthing bad,
Are ye gan daft ?-ye winnet speak,
Or is't me that's gawn mad?

"Aw've bowt sum claes, maw canny wife,
An' still yor iv a rage;
Aw'd better tyek me owertime,
Then meddle wi' me wage,
An' still ye sit an' groan as tho
Aw'd teun yor best heart's blud,
But Time wi' ye's myed weary wark
Yor temper's not se gud!

"Let's hey a row, but dinner sulk,
Aw'd like te hear a word
Frae them reed lips, that once aw thowt
Wad nivvor breed discord;
Aw'd rethur hear ye call us owt,
An' vex us till aw's sair,
Then see yor aggravatin fyece,
Sit sulkin i' that chair!

"Yor smilin noo, that bonny broo
Lucks brighter then it was,
Cum te me airms, maw cumley pet,
An' let's heh ne mair cause
Te myek us use reproachful words,
Let's lead a happy life,
An' nivvor let yor husbind think
He's got a sulky wife!"

-Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 15 May 17 - 04:11 PM

THAT FACTORY LASS!

TEUN-"Erin go Bragh."

"Oh, Jack, what's the metter? ye luck se doon-hearted,
Whativor's yor trubbil? aw hope ye'll tell me,
Ye luck se dejected, what is't lad? cum tell us,
It pains us te see a yung chep sad as ye."
"Whey, Joe, man, aw'm nearly heart-broken, believe us,
Aw can find ne injoyment i' me pipe or me glass,
Me luv for me Mary's byeth strange an' unsartin,
Aw heh ne peace 0' mind throo that Factory Lass!

"She works i' the fact'ry amang lots 0' lasses,
But nyen 0' the beauties that's there can compare
Wi' the lass that aw's efter,-she's smart an' she's bonny,
Wi' blue eyes, a Wellinton nose, an' reed hair;
Her mooth wad tempt ony te wish they dor kiss them,
Her lucks a' tegither a Queen wad surpass,
But, oh man, aw's frighten'd she cares nowt aboot us,
Ay, an' me deep i' luv wi' that Factory Lass!

"Aw left her one mornin te join the Militia,
An' sairly she cried an' aw hoped 'twes for me,
But noo man, aw doot it, -aw'm not often jealous,
But really aw've seen what aw'd rether not see.
She wesleet-myed an' canny the mornin aw left her,
But noo she's se stoot, that the neybors a' pass
Remarks--when aw hear them aw shudder an' fear that
She's been false te me hes that Factory Lass!

"Aw sumtimes imadjin aw shud marry sweet Mary,
But if aw propose man, aw've ne courage wid,
For aw've thowt te me-sel that thor might be sumbody,
Had mair reet te her, ay, an' mair reet te did.
So aw feel se unhappy, the whole toon aw wander,
But whativor shud happen, whativor shud pass,
Aw promise te tell ye the next time aw meet ye,
Aw'm as daft as a feul throo that Factory Lass!"


-Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 15 May 17 - 04:36 PM

DIVVENT BOTHER US SE!

TEUN-"Kiss i' the Ring."

TE kort me lass aw oftin try,
But mischief shines iv her bonny blue eye,
She'll cock up her nose as aw pass by,
An' she's always pickin her fun oot 0' me,
Says she, "Can aw help't, when ye plague us se?"
"Sartinly," says aw; says she,
"Ye nivor say owt aboot luv te me!"
Says she; says aw, "Aw de!" Says she,
"Haud yor tung, divvent bother us sel"
Says aw, "Whey what can a poor fellow de?
N00 whe will ye hev, if ye winnet heh me?"
Says she, "Haud yor tung, divvent bother us se!"

Says aw, "Aw like ye as wee !as man can,
Roond the world frae Newcassell for ye aw wad gan,
If aw divvent speak fine its as fine as aw can,
An' what else te please ye can ivor aw de?"
Says she, "Ye knaw weel that aw gan wi' Jack Broon,"
"Sartinly," says aw; says she,
"He's the canniest, bonniest lad i' the toon, "
"Is he tho?" says aw, "not he!" Says she,
"Haud yor tung, divvent bother us set Il Says aw,
"De ye think that ye'll frighten me?
Ye knaw that Jack Broon gans wi' Mary McCree,"
Says she, "Haud yor tung, divvent bother us se I"

Says she, "Did aw not see ye the day,
Stoppin an' tawkin te fat Jinny Grey?"
Says aw, "For a frind mun aw gan oot the way,
She wes axin the time, aw wes luckin te see!"
Says she, "Wassent Jinny a sweetheart 0' yors?"
"Sartinly," says aw; says she,
"Ye'll gan wi' byeth new an' aud sweethearts of courseI"
Says she; says aw, "Not me! " Says she,
"Haud yor tung, divvent bother us sel"
Says aw, "It's strange we se seldum agree,
Yor always findin sum faIt wi' me!"
Says she, "Haud yor tung, divvent bother us sel"

Says aw, "For a minnit just lissen te sense,
Aw'll set up a hoose, an' aw'll spare ne expense,
But aw'll want a wife, the set up te mense,
An' awthink that aw cuddent heh better than yel"
Says she, "It's yor turn te pick fun oat 0' me,"
"Sartinly," says aw; says she,
"But if yor in arnist, aw think we'll agree!"
"That's reet," says aw; says she,
"Ye'll promise ne mair te plague us sel"
Says aw, "Yor as daft as a body can be,
Aw'll plague ye far maid" says aw; says she,
"Huts, lad, haud yor tung, divvent bother us se!"

If ye dream ye've seen a ghost, ye may safely calkilate on the
contrary. Thor niver wes ony ghosts, or iver will be, te foaks i'
thor sober senses. So ye may gan te sleep agyen withoot ony fear,
and snore withoot contradicshun. Thor's nebody sees owt 0' the
kind but madmen an' heavy drinkers. If ye want te see one, tyek
a fit 0' Dileerium Trimmins: it's the best recipe aw can gie ye; an'
ye can send thirteen stamps if it toms oot successful. Gratitude's
cheap.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 15 May 17 - 05:06 PM

THE DEFEAT 0' THE COCKNIES!
BE THE COALLY TYNE HEROES, AT THAMES GRAND REGATTA, AUGUST 4th AND 5th, 1868.

TEUN- "Barbary Bell," or the "Wunderful Tallegraff."

AW'LL sing ye a bit sang if ye'll join i' the korus,
Ye'll give us a gud un,-aw's sartin ye will,
For it's all i' the praise i' the Coally Tyne heroes,
The Charnpeins we've had, an' the Champeins we've still;
Tho aw's sad when awthink 0' brave honest Bob Chambers,
Aw's glad the example he set's been weel tyen,
For wor bonny boat-pullers, the best ova' scullers,
Thor lickt for thor equal,-becas they heh nyen.

N00 it's mony a lang eer since game aud Harry Clasper
Astonish'd the Cocknies, an' myed them fight shy,
The Tyneside boat-rowers, se prood 0' thor river,
Kept up the successes for eers its gyen by;
Then Chambers, the Champein ov a' the world's pullers,
Goh the Cocknies a gliff that they'll nivor forget,
Whey, Kelley for six eers dor hardly gan near him,
TiII he knew Bob wes deun,-then he challinsed wor pet!

But lads, thor's stiII gud uns withoot gan te Lundin,
An' where will ye find them but just on the Tyne?
Did ye ivor hear owt like the greet Thames Regatta?
Where the canny Tynesiders se bonny did shine;
Aw wad like te been there te seen a' the lang fyeces,
The Cocknies wad pull when they fund they war deun,
For they nivor imadjind the whole 0' the prizes,
For Champeins, wad cum te wor river as seun.

Thor wes game Jimmy Taylor, Mat Scott, Andrew Thompson,
Wi' the second Bob Chambers te pull the stroke oar,
Com in for the Hundrid withoot ony trubbiI,
Twes easier then ivor its been wun afore;
Then the race for the Pairs, tho twes reckund a grand un,
Just show'd 0' what hard stuff a Tynesider's myed,
For Taylor an' Scott fairly bothered a' Lundin,"
Gox! wor gan te get nowt this time!" Kelley then said.

But the Champeinship race is wor pride an' wor glory,
When brave Jimmy Renforth, se honest an' true,
Led the way before gud men like Sadler an' Percy,
An' the foaks that wes there really sweer that he flew!
He's Champein ov Ingland,-then wish him success, lads,
May he, like poor Bob Chambers, stick weel te the nyem ;
Then gud luck te the Fowers, the Pairs, an' the Champein,
Besides a' the canny boat-pullers at hyem!


-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 15 May 17 - 05:16 PM

MARTHA GREY

TEUN- "Luv amangthe Roses."

IT might heh been i' Yepril,
Or it might heh been i' May,
When forst aw wes se lucky
As te meet wi' Martha Grey,
She stood behint the koonter,
Byeth reed an' fat wes she;
The hams an' bacon roond her
Had ne such charms te me.
Aw got a half-a-noonce 0' twist,
An' aw wish'd that aw cud steal her,
At forst seet there me heart aw miss'd,
Throo that stoot Pervishun Dealer!

Korus.

They call her Grey,-her measure's just,
She keeps a shop, but gies ne trust;
Since then aw've oftin tried her,
An' aw's ne poor appealer,
But wi' Martha Grey aw hope sum day,
Te be Co-Pervishun Dealer!

Aw axed her for a leeter,
Or aw said a match wad de,
Then frev a box beside her,
She handed two or three;
Aw luckt doon at the matches,
An' then aw luckt at her,
I' hopes her eye wad catch us,
But she stared at the dor.
She teuk ne notis when aw spoke,
What aw meant for a feeler,
A match aw thowt wad end i' smoke,
Wi' that stoot Pervishun Dealer.

Since then aw've gyen there oftin,
Te kort fat Martha Grey,
An' hard aw've tried te soften
Her heart an' myekt give way,
Aw believe that aw've a chance yit,
For sumtimes Martha's eye
Wi' luv 'ill myek advances,
So then aw'll gamely try,
Te captivate byeth wife an' shop,
At Mary's feet aw'll kneel, or
The co-operative questin pop
Te that stoat Pervishun Dealer!

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 15 May 17 - 05:29 PM

SNOOKS'S DINAH

TEUN-"Martha, the Milkman's Dowler."

BILL SNOOK'S married a darkey wife,
Aw divvent knaw where he fund her,
But ower the sea she's cum wi' him,
An' filled us a' wi wunder,
Such eyes an' cheeks, such nose an' mooth,
Aw nivvor clapt me eyes on,
But fancy's ivrything they say,
For all it's se surprisin.

Korus.

Frae the heed te the fut,
She's as black as any sur,
Thor may be fair an' finer,
But for a Blackeymoor, aw's sure
Thor's nyen like Snooks's Dinah!

She's a Nigger,-ne half-bred Quadroon,
Thor's ne disputin her breed.
Ne Mullatto or ne Octoroon
Can show a heed like hor heed,
It's a curley, wooley, toosey pow,
Ne turmit aw've seen bigger,
Frae the shoolders te the waist square-built,
She's a heavy-wite black Nigger!

Bill says when they got married he
Wes heavy on the spree then,
The job wes deun-he cuddent help't,
So what wes he te de then?
He got te bed-but oh, next morn,
He thowt the imp 0' evil
Had been his pairtner i the neet,
His bed-mate wes the deevil!

"Oh marcy, divvent tyek us yit!
Aw's not prepared te leave here,"
Bill cried, an' wrung his hands i' grief.
Says she, "Ye needn't grieve here,
For awls yor lawful wedded wife,
Yor choice ov luv an' passhun!
"Me wife!" cries Bill, "yor Bellsebub!
Lord help us, yor a cawshun !"

But efter that, he got used wid,
An' Dinah liked her gud-man,
They really got te 'gree forst-rate,
As married cupples shud, man,
An' when Bill cums hyem frae the pit,
She likes te see him black, as
She thinks he's then mair like her-sel,
Till he says, "Cum wesh me back, lass l"

But lately Dinah's been confined,
Wi' such a little geezer,
A little fellow,-black an' tan,
Drest up i' white te please her,
Billlafft te see them byeth i' bed,
Luckt at one an' then the tuther,
An' wundorin whe on orth it's like,
He kiss'd it for its muther!

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 15 May 17 - 05:37 PM

AN ACROSTIC TO ROBERT STEPHENSON, THE CELEBRATED MUSICIAN, LORD NELSON INN, TRAFALGAR STREET, NEWCASTLE.

R ICH and sweet in harmony,-and jovial as a friend,
O bliging to his customers, one that we'd have attend;
B enevolent to those in need, true as the truest steel,
E nriching the good name he has, one that can make us feel
R espect, and he for ever gains the great respect of all,
T hat love at the "Lord Nelson," in Trafalgar Street to call.

S urrounded by the Talent, and there is a real high class,
T hat gather round their good old friend to have a pipe and glass,
E nchanting all with music in a choice and varied strain,
P rofessionals as jolly, that achieve, and can obtain
H igh test'mony from critics, of abilities their own,
E qualled only by good humour they've already shown;
N umerous are the patrons who oft show how they regard
S tephenson, their favourite, whom they've so often heard
O n the violin, attracted, when the sweetest of all sound,
N ourishes the ear that's charmed when friends are friends all round.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 15 May 17 - 07:49 PM

MYEK PEACE!

TEUN-"Cappy's the Dog."

MYEK peace I-can ye find any gud iv a row?
Wiv a smack on the nose or a crack on the pow,
Wi' yor skull nearly dayver'd, yor eyes a' but blind,
What gud i' such mischief can anyone find?

Korus,

So aw hope ye'll make peace,
An' yor plissures increase,
Wiv a gud hearty sosheeble
Happy-like peace.

Nivvor eg a man on wiv anuther te fight,
Or get him te hammer sum chep for yor spite,
That's a thing aw knaw often greet cooerds 'ill de,
Myek peace!-ay, an' try te myek a' men agree.

Myek peace I-an' the pollis ye nivvor need fear,
Ye can say te yor-sel that he's not wanted here!
Man an' wife shuddent put one anuther aboot,
An' canny young sweethearts shud nivvor fall oot.

Aw cud nivvor see owt iv a row in the hoose,
But led tiv hard words an' a' kinds ov abuse,
Exposin' affairs te yor neybors se true,
That the forst time ye hear them repeated ye rue.

l' yor unruly moments just think ov me sang,
It 'ill hinder ye surely for dein mair rang,
An' yor sartin te find a' yor plissures increase,
If ye just myek't yor study to heh nowt but peace.

So aw hope ye'll myek peace,
An' yor plissures increase,
Wiv a gud hearty sosheeble
Happy-like peace!

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 15 May 17 - 08:00 PM

WHERE IS GEORDEY GYEN?

TEUN- "Homeward Bound."

OH, where-oh, where is wor Geordey gyen?
He'll not gan te wark, or he'll not stop at hyem;
Aw've seen little on him since New Eer's day,
If he'll not gan te wark, he'll get ne pay.

Korus.

Oh! where is Geordey gyen-oh, where?
Oh! where is Geordey gyen?

'Twes the Nine Oors Movement did the trick,
For it suits wor lad ony time te stick:
If Geordey had his awn way, aw knaw,
He wad gan on strike for ne wark at a'!

When the Strike wes on, he wes better off then
Then he wes before, or he'll be agyen,
For he got his beer, an' injoyed his smoke:
When the Strike wes settled, his heart wes broke!

At last, rethur then work-wi' passhun het
He knock'd doon the forst Belgein he met;
An', man, hoo sorry aw was for the lad,
When they sent him for six weeks te quad.

It's true he wes often i' jail before,
But his mates gov him welcum oot wiv a roar;
It's true what aw say, an' de what aw like,
He'll nivvor be reet till thor's anuther Strike!

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 15 May 17 - 08:44 PM

WOR PEGGY'S ALBUM!

TEUN-"Postman's Knock."

HERE'S wor Peggy's Album, but what it contains
Aw's sartin wad pussle ye a',
But what's i' the beuk withoot hevin a luck,
Aw'll try te let all on ye knaw.
The first it's a chep that aw knaw nowt aboot,
That she bowt for a penny one day,
Then here's Dolly Scott that 'ill tawk for a munth,
If ye'll lissen tiv owt that she'll say!

Korus.

It's a stunner, me lads, an' ye'll say that aw's reet,
For if Peggy's a cawshun, her Album's a treat.

The third it's a chep wiv a beer-blossim'd fyece,
But hoo he gets drunk pussles me,
He's nivvor at wark-but i' dayleet or dark
He's always the forst iv a spree;
Then here's Harry Palmer, that leeves doon war yard,
He plays on the kornet at neets,
An' ye'll see him sumtimes, iv his rifleman's claes,
Wi' the band, promenadin the streets.

Then here's Nanny Hunter that keeps a bit shop,
An' sells bullets an' claggum for bairns,
She's a canny aud wife, an' aw hope she'll de weel;
The next's an aud maid they call Cairns,
She's off wi' the Mormons, because she lost heart
0' gettin a gud man at hyem;
An' the next it's a lass that aw fancy me-sel,
So aw think aw'll not men shun her nyem.

Then here's Charley Ridley that stands i' the bar,
For the lanlord that keeps the" Black Rat,"
An' lang Mally Todd wiv her mooth gyepin wide,
An' her eyes like aw divvent knaw what;
The last it's wor Geordey, as grave as a priest,
Wiv a greet big bull-dog on his knee;
He's the last i' the beuk, an' aw wish Peggy luck,
May she seun hed as full as can be.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 15 May 17 - 08:57 PM

PERFESSHUNAL LODGERS!

TEUN-"The Yallow Girl that -wink'd at me."

MAN, aw'm nearly gawn oot d me heed,
For aw lodge wi' such queer lodgers,
They kick up such a clatter,
That aw wundor what's the matter,
An' aw think them a real queer breed;
Thor perfesshunal cheps, they say,
A lot 0' Music Hall performers.
They may be varry cliver,
But aw'd like te knaw whativer
Myeks them carryon iv such a way.

Korus.

An' oh, my! aw often try
Te get a bit rest, but when thor nigh
Aw'm sure aw nivvor will,
For they kick up such a clatter,
That aw wunder what's the matter,
For they cannet or they winnet keep still!

I' the mornin the fiddler starts
Te give us a dose ov his scrapin;
Then the sentimentil singer
Just aboot the time for dinner
Myeks us a' fit te brick wor hearts;
Then the comic one's turn begins,
An' he nearly the whole street raises,
What wi' him an' wi' the niggor,
They byeth cut a bonny figgor,
An' the dog-dancer joins i' the din.

Then the chep that plays on the flute
Calls in te see the fiddler;
They play some grand duet
That aw nivvor can forget,
For they byeth leave the teun clean oot;
Then a lass tyeks her turn te squall,
An' screams as if for murder;
It maybe varry bonny,
Or it may be varry funny,
But aw think it's best at the Hall.

Then the lanlady runs upstairs,
An' kicks up a row wi' the sarvint;
Thor always in het wetter,
Pitter, patter, clitter, clatter,
That aw cannet mind me awn affairs;
But that's not the warst ova',
For at neets thor's ne rest for us
Frae twelve te three o'clock,
Why, it's knock, an' knock, an' knock,
Thor the queerest foaks aw knaw.


-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 15 May 17 - 09:15 PM

NEAR THE MANORS STAYSHUN

AIR-" Black·EJled Susan."

NEAR the Manors Stayshun, one Monday morn,
A young lass stud an' wiped her eyes,
Wi' sobs an' sighs, an' a fyece forlorn,
Her story tell'd, wi' moans an' cries,"
Oh, Charley, Charley, where is Charley noo?
l' the Manors Stayshun, wiv a blaggeyord crew!

"What for becawse did ye gan an' fight,
An' brick poor Micky Murphy's nose?
Hoo was't i' three cairds ye teuk delight,
Te swindle a' that wad stand the dose?
Oh, Charley, Charley, where is Charley noo?
l' the Manors Stayshun, under Captain Blue!

"What for becawse did ye steal the watch,
An' steal poor Tommy Dobson's shart?
Hoo was't the Peelers me luv shud catch,
Te turn me heed an' ring me heart?
Oh, Charley, Charley, where is Charley noo?
It's six munse certain, when his case is throo!

"Ye knaw the bairn that aw hey's yor awn,
Ye knaw that aw've been true te ye,
Tho ye nivvor meant te be me man,
Whe'll keep yor bairn, ay, an' whe'll keep me?
Oh, Charley, Charley, where is Charley noo ?
Till the next Assizes, wiv a blaggeyord crew!"

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 15 May 17 - 09:25 PM

MAW BONNY INJINEER

TEUN- "Nice Young Man."

"OH, hinny, what myeks ye luck se glad?
A blithesome fyece heh ye;"
"Me sweetheart's oot ov his time the day,
Aw's like te happy be;
Aw've been up tiv his muther's hoose,
He kiss'd us, bliss his heart,
An' tell'd us that on Munday next
As journeyman he'll start."

Korus.

TEUN-" Rasor-Grinder's Daughter."

"For in me heart aw haud him dear,
Aw only wish that he wes here,
Maw brave, maw bonny Injineer,
That's served his time at Hawthorn's.

"His shopmates say he's just the sort
Te fettle weel at owt,
He's a clivor chep an' a handy chep,
An' nivvor aflaid 0' nowt;
The neet thor gawn te hey a spree,
Thor hevin one the day,
But what's the odds? thor jolly lads,
An' last neet wes the pay!

"But still aw wish the spree wes ower,
For then he'll tawk te me,
An' shortly, seun, aw hey ne doot,
His journeywife aw'll be.
His journeywife wi' him throo life,
Aw wish that we war wed,
For then aw's pairtner ov his hoose,
An' pairtner ov his bed!"

"Me darlin's oot ov his time the day,
What news, aw say, for me,
Aw think his muther might need sum help
Te myek them a' thor tea,
An' help her wi' the hoose turns like,
An' gan oot for the beer,
Aw think aw'll gan, it's me place te be
Beside me Injineer!"

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 16 May 17 - 01:42 PM

WE'LL SEUN HEH WARK TE DE!
OR, THE STRIKE 0' '71

TEUN-" Nowt te de."

"ON strike!" aw hear them awful words
Repeated i' the street,
"On strike! ne warkt" aw hear agyen,
Frae hundreds that aw meet;
"Three lang munths gyen,-not sattled yit!
Wor hard-up as can be,
It cannet last, thor'll be a change,
We'll seun heh wark te de!"

Korus,

Walkin roond the Market,
An' walkin doon the Kee,
The only cheerin words aw hear's
"We'll seun heh wark te de!"

Aw see the poor cheps oot on strike
Gan slowly throo the street,
Tho anxshus for the latest news,
Frev iv'ry one they meet,
They keep up one anuther's hearts,
As honest men shud be,
Wi' hopes the day's not distant when
They'll all heh wark te de !

"Mair forrinersl" aw hear them say,
Then one 'ill shake his heed
"They may get plenty men as cheap,
But is't them that they need?
No, no! it's real mechanicks that
A maister likes te see,
Nine oors te him's a better thing,
Gud men his wark te de!

"At hyem thor's nowt but misery,
Where happy days we've seen.
When plenty wark an' plenty keep
Myed a' things luck soreen,
We'll heh them gud things back agyen,
Seun settled we shall be,
Then forrin culls may tyek thor hook
Frae wark they cannet de!"

We'll seun heh wark te de, me lads!
God bliss us a' we will,
Tyneside 'ill yit victorious shine,
Wi' men 0' worth an' skill,
An' happier days 'ill myek the past
A dream 0' what we see,
Men gud an' true 'ill nivor rue,
We'll seun heh wark te de!"

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 16 May 17 - 01:52 PM

THE CHAPEIN 0' CASSEL GARTH STAIRS!

TEUN- "Billy, me bonny Lad."

Aw warn'd ye've heard 0' wor Johnny,
An eccentric lad is he,
He's sarvin his time as a cobbler
But a snob he'll nivor be;
Tho wi' beuts an' shoes he's suroonded,
For the lot he little cares,
For day-dreams myek him ambishus
Te be Champein 0' Cassel Garth Stairs.

Sum days he thinks he's a booler,
Sweers he can lick Geordy Laws
Or Saint, an' shut Harry Wardle
At ony immoont 0' craws;
He thinks he can beat Stephen Ridley,
An' myek Pete Hewitt say pray'rs,
Tho he nivor says ony his-sel,
He's the Champein 0' Cassel Garth Stairs.

He's such a fellow for chaffin,
He can tawk Jack Spencer dumb,
An' he says that Addy or Bagnall
He cud lick them byeth like fun,
An' one day, whey, he tell'd Mooney
He lairnt Burnett an' Pletts thor affairs,
An' he reckons the strike wes wun
Be the Champein 0' Cassel Garth Stairs.

Johnny says he can beat Bill Walker,
Or Tom Pape ony time he'll swim,
An' Lally at rowin or dancin
Wad heh ne chance wi' him;
He'll play Robie at quoits for a hundrid,
And Jamieson russel for fairs,
If he's as big as Roger Tichborne
He'll thraw him doon Cassel Garth Stairs.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 16 May 17 - 02:01 PM

THE DEETH 0' RENFORTH!
CHAMPION SCULLER OF THE WORLD.

"Y E cruel Atlantic Cable,
What's myed ye bring such fearful news?
When Tyneside's hardly yeble
Such sudden grief te bide.
Hoo me heart its beats-iv'rybody greets,
As the whisper runs throo dowley streets,
'We've lost poor Jimmy Renforth,
The Champein 0' Tyneside !"

HOD sad, hoo unexpected,
What diff'rent news we thowt te hear,
Till dismay'd an' affected,
Heart-broken mourners cried, "
Jimmy Renforth's gyen, wor greet Champein's gyen,
Iva country strange,-away frae hyem,
We've lost poor Jimmy Renforth,
The Champein 0' Tyneside !"

"Oh, Jim, what myed ye leave us?
What myed ye leave the canny toon?
A journey myed to grieve us,
Ye've gyen wi' the last tide,
An' the oar that fell, the last oar that fell
Frae yor helpless hand, just seem'd te tell
That Deeth wes the greet victor
l' races far an' wide!

"Life lost withoot a warnin,
An' stopt yor short but grand koreer,
Then left us stricken, mournin,
Deprived 0' wor greet pride;
Hoo me heart it beats,-iv'rybody greets,
As the whisper runs throo dowley streets,
'We've lost poor Jimmy Renforth,
The Champein 0' Tyneside!'"

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 16 May 17 - 03:08 PM

THE AUDD KINNOO

"A few days ago, Messrs. James Hall and Robert Cooper discovered
at low water a large canoe deeply embedded in the sand of the river Tyne.
After considerable trouble this relic of the past was raised and taken on shore,
when it was discovered that the canoe was one solid piece of oak, which had
evidently been burnt out in the centre, and then finished off with pieces of
flint. It was placed by Mr. Hall in the Elswick Boathouse, where it now remains.
Several antiquarians have inspected the unshapely boat recently brought to
light, and although great difference of opinion exists as to the date in which it
had been in use, the majority are inclined to believe that its age must be
something over one thousand years.-"Newcastle Chronicle, April 9th,1870."

TEUN-

"The Pawnshop Bleezin."

THE morn wes fair, the tide wes law,
The sun shone bright as iver,
When Jimmy Hall, te try a boat,
Pull'd slawlydoon the river;
Doon tiv he's oars he camly lies,
When sumthing fasinates he's eyes,
An' myeks him fairlyhaud his hand,
An objeck stickin throo the sand!
Te find oot what it is he lands,
An' plodges te the varry sands
'Wherehe's cawse 0' wundor's barried !

A lump 0' blaek an' dorty wood,
Wes a' that met he's view, man,
Thinks he, "It's like a seuller's starn,
Aw'll gan an' tell a few, man;
We'll seun hed up, an' then we'll see
What at this moment bothers me!"
Bob Cooper wes the forst he met,
An' wi' sum uther eheps, they set
Te hawl an' howk wi' might an' main.
An' lang they tried, an' lang in vain,
Till at last they quite succeeded. "

It's like a boat!" says Bob,"
it is, An' still it's like a tree, man,
We'll heh the sand oot forst, an' then
We'll heh mair chance te se, man!
They clear'd it oat, an' greet surprise
Fill'd a' thor 'stonished, wund'rin eyes,
For a' the boats they'd iver seen
Wes nowt like this or iver been,
For there the lang trunk ov an oak,
Quite worn wi' age, an' little broke,
Wes fashun'd like a boat, man!

"Ne planks or nails wes iver used
Te this," says Jim, "aw's sartin,
It's hollow'd oot frae stem te starn,
An' if it's not a smart un,
It's curious!" " Aye," says Bob, "it is.
Let's tyek't up te yor boat-boose wis,
An' sum larn'd chep we'll mevvies meet,
That's sure te put war noshuns reet!"
War Geordey wes the forst they saw,
An' seun he let them trooly knaw
The greet wundors ov its hist'ry,

Says he, "When boats like this wes used,
They myed them oot 0' trees, man,
They'd burn the body oot the trunk,
An' pare the sides like cheese, man,
An' keep them safe wi' plenty wet,
The fire only myed them swet,
But still it burnt away inside,
Till hollow'd oot,-a boat supplied,
When polish'd offwi' flint, man!

"The boat ye see's an aud kinnoo,
When Seize-her forst teuk Brittin,
Aw heh ne doot him or his chums
The syem wad often sit in;
In fact, aw've heerd a Roman lord
Once teuk se mony foaks on board,
Beside Reedheuff they com a-grund,
The foaks wes saved-the boatwes droon'd!
Aw heh ne doubt but that's just it,
An' if ye'll ony wait a bit,
Ye can sell'd tiv Anty Queer-uns !"

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 16 May 17 - 09:51 PM

SULKY MARY

MARY sulks an' Mary grummils,
Mary turns her heed away,
Mary cannet beer us funnin,
So aw think aw'll stop away,
It's Hannah's Sunday oot, an'
Hannah Likes a joke as weel as me,
Aw'd seuner gan a mile wi' Hannah,
Then hey a walk wi' Mary three!

Fareweel Mary, prood an' distint,
Aw'll not plague ye,-if aw gan,
If yor time shud cum te marry,
Aw hope aw maynit be yor man;
For if aw had a wife bad-temper'd,
She'd spoil mine, an' myek mine bad,
So gud-bye, hinny,-for aw's gannin,
Ye'll mebbies get anuther lad!

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890

Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 16 May 17 - 10:00 PM

MALLY DIDDENT CUM

TEUN- " Farewell, my Jumbaree. "

Aw had te meet young Mally once,
Aw'll not forget that neet;
She promised tiv us faithfully
Te be i' Grainger Street.
"She wad meet us near the Monniment,"
Te me she whisp'rin' said;
But, oh ! that disappointment
Such misery convey'd.

Korus.

But, oh dear! Mally diddent cum!
She kept us waitin' there se lang,
Heart-broken-c-aw wes glum;
For it's an awful disappointment
When yor sweetheart dissent cum!

Aw went roond be the Market,
But Mally wassent there;
Throo Newgate Street an' Blackett Street,
Aw wander'd full 0' care;
Then went back te the Monniment,
But still aw cuddent see
The sweetheart that had promised
To meet us faithfully.

Northumberland Street, an' Percy Street,
Aw stagger'd wildly throo,
The breezes frae the Moor Edge
Cud nivvor cool me broo,
Forfever-heat-iv ivry street
Ne Mally aw cud see:
Aw went back to the Monniment
Increasin' misery.

l' Grey Street, an' i' Grainger Street,
For three lang oors or mair,
Me eyes obscured wi' grief an' gloom,
Greet sorrow for me share,
At last, aw myed me way back hyem,
But there aw cuddent sleep,
For oh ! aw nivvor thowt that Mall
Her promise waddent keep.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890