Subject: The Horrid War i' Sangyet
From:
Conrad Bladey (Peasant- Inactive)
Date: 18 Mar 00 - 11:07 AM
The Horrid War i' Sangyet
Tho's nowt se bad, aw've heer'd foax say,
Is let feul preachors hae thor way;
An' that was proov'd the tuthor day,
Be the horrid war i' Sangyet.
As Rantor Dick preech'd fev a chair,
While singin' oot wi' cuddy blair,
An' gie'in the Pope a canny share
O' hell-fire comfort aw declare,
Bowld Paddy Finn set up a howl
An' squintin' Dan an' Ted Mac Cowl
Myet priest an'byeuk an' styeul to rowl
I' th' muck an' clarts o' Sangyet. Nan Dodds an' me an' Mettor Jack
Wis stannin' be the preechor's back;
Says aw, "Ye thunderin' Irish pack,
Dor ye start yor gam' i' Sangyet?"
Then, we' me neeve, aw shuts a blaw,
An' levels Dan an' Cowley law;
Wor Jack pickt up the rantor craw,
An' tell'd not gyen Popes to jaw,
An' now the bonny gam begun;
The Pats frev oot thor hooses run,
They poor'd be hundreds fre the "Sun,"
Te start a war i' Sangyet. They cam fre loosy dens wi' howls,
Like harrin'-man! they they cam' i' showls,
Wi' buzzum shanks an awd bed powls
Styens flew like shot thru Sangyet.
The polls cam wi' thor black sticks,
But sam gatfell'd wi' greet hawf bricks,
Then rowlin' pins an' shafts o' picks
Wis browt to the naytive's tricks.
The Paddies screem'd till a' wis bloo
"Let's slay the Saxon haythens, noo!
Down wid the English thaives! Hooroo!
An' we'll be kings i' Sangyet!" They cam fre Quinn's an' Simson's tee
Fra Ford's an' hooses'lang the Kee,
Fre Piporgyet an' Mill Entree
To the horrid war i' Sangyet;
The Irish force was fairly quasht,
When on the Kee-side porters dasht;
Then tongs went up bed powls gat smasht
An' heeds was crackt, an' windors crasht
The brave keel-laddies tyeuk their turn
Wiv smiths an' potters fre the Burn;
They cut the whiteboys doon like corn,
An' lyed them law i' Sangyet. The sweeps now teem'd wi sic a rush,
The Paddies fled before the brush;
Ned Fish's heroes myed a push,
An' blackt the boys i' Sangyet,
Bill Jonsin's a croo an' Clark's wis there,
An' Knight's an Lumley's pack fowt sair;
Jem Frame's boold fre the Cassel Square,
Wi' Blowor's Blacks an' mony mair,
The landlord's joined the jolly row,
Bob Carr gat help fre the "Barley Mow;"
Moor put his Steam Boat cheps i'tow,
An' a' wes war in Sangyet. Nell Prood chuckt up her three-legged
An' lyed it into Dermitt's skull; styeul
An' Dorty Peg worl'd roond her shyeul,
An' splet sum heeds i' Sangyet.
Young Oyster Bet an' Tatey Sall
Got three greet navvies gyen the wal;
Bet prickt them wiv a cobbler's awl;
Peg pows'd thor jaws an' myed them squall
an' when the Pats wis fairly dyeun,
Wor Sally for the pollis run,
An'te the stayshun they were tyeun
For raisin' war i' Sangyet. The pollis wad gyen doon, aw feer,
Ef cheps like us had not been neer;
Man, Keeyside blud's se full o' beer,
We'd fight the world for sangyet.
Wor Jack an' me to Manors tyeuk,
Just sixteen Pats be Scott's awn byeuk;
We seizedthem like a grapplin hyeuk,
An' cyeg'd them for sum mair te lyeuk.
On Mundor morn aw fand a' sair,
When aw wis cawld afore the Mare,
An' swor 'twas a' the Rantor's prayer
That caus'd the war i' Sangyet. To gaol the dorty trash was sent,
Wi' brockin' skulls an' fairly spent;
They lyeukt like owt but foax content
Wi' raisin' war i' Sangyet.
Noo when we're free aw'll say agyen,
Just let us Inglish foax alyen,
Newcassel lads can rool a "main,"
In owther "seas" or "cocks" that's plain,
Then let's away to sum yell-hoose
An' hev a sang, an' gan on croose;
Let's proove us Keeside cheps is doose
The conkerin' bleyds o' Sangyet.
For tune see forthcoming abc file
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