Lyr Add: Geordie Haud the Bairn

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Geordie Haud the Bairn
From: GUEST,Suibhne Astray
Date: 11 May 11 - 03:54 PM

A recent thread on this very subject, with links to the tune (performed on YouTube), but still no patter:

Lyr Req: Come Geordie Hold the Bairn

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Geordie Haud the Bairn
From: michaelr
Date: 11 May 11 - 01:09 PM

Can we have the tune, please?

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Geordie Haud the Bairn
From: Ross Campbell
Date: 11 May 11 - 11:02 AM

That's Joseph Crawhall .

Joseph Crawhall II, middle of three Joseph Crawhalls, the Newcastle-upon-Tyne wood engraver, 1821–1896 (click on the link to see some of his idiosyncratic wood engravings - styled after the traditional folk-art woodcuts that accompanied Broadside ballads) published several books with his own illustrations.

Very touching song, Conrad. The title was mentioned a couple of weeks ago at the Moorbrook, Preston (have you spies amongst us?) where there are more than a few afficionados of the Geordie song heritage. Suibhne may well be working this up for singing.

I'm also a fan of the late Frank Graham, a worth successor to Joseph Crawhall in the publishing line.

Ross

Ross

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Geordie Haud the Bairn
From: JudyAnne
Date: 11 May 11 - 07:07 AM

from Tyneside Songster pub by Frank Graham:
"Joe Wilson author of this song was born in 1841 and died 1875. A successful Tyneside writer. Other songs by him: The Raw Upon the Stairs, Dinnet Clash the Dorr are photographs in verse of Tyneside working-class life."

Subject: Come Geordie Ha'd the Bairn
From: Conrad Bladey (Peasant- Inactive)
Date: 18 Mar 00 - 11:38 AM

Come, Geordie--ha'd the Bairn or Aw wish thy Muther wad cum.

Come, Geordie, ha'd the bairn,
Aw's sure aw'll not stop lang;
Aw'd tyek the jewel me sel,
But really aw's not strang.
Thor's floor an' coals to get,
The hoose-wark's not half deun,
Sae--haud the bairn for fairs,
Thou's often deun't for fun.

Then Geordie held the bairn,
But sair agyen his will;
The poor bit thing wes good,
But Geordie had nee skill;
He haddent its Muther's ways,
He sat byeth stiff an' numb;
Afore five minutes was gyen,
He wish'd its Muther wad cum.

His wife had hardlys gyen,
The bairn began to squall,
With hikin't up an' doon
He varry neigh let it fall.
It nivver wad ha'd its tung,
Tho' some aud teun he'd hum--
"Jack and Jill went up the hill"--
"Aw wish thy Muther wad cum."

What weary toil said he
This nursin' bairns mun be;
A bit on't's well enough,
Aye, quite eneuf for me.
To ha'd-a blubberin' bairn,
It may be grand to some;
A day's wark's not as bad--
"Aw wish thy Muther wad cum."

Men seldom give a thowt
To what their wives endure;
Aw thowt she'd nowt to dee
But clean the hoose, aw's sure,
Or myek my dinner an' tea--
(It's startin' to sook its thumb;
The Poor thing wants its tit)--
"Aw wish thy Muther wad cum."

What a selfish world this is!
There's nowt mair sae than Man;
He laffs at Wimmin's toill,
An' nivvir 'll norse his awn--
(It's startin' to cry agyen--
Aw see tuts throo it's gum;)
Maw canny bit pet, O dinna thoo fret--
"Aw wish thy Muther wad cum."

But kindness dis a vast-
It's nee use gettin vext--
It'll niver please the bairn,
Or ease a mind perplext.
At last it's gyen to sleep,
The Wife'll not say aw's numb--
She'll think aw's a real good nurse--
But--"Aw wish thy Muther wad cum."

-Source A Beuk o' Newcassel Sangs.
Joseph Cawhall,
1888