Subject: Teasdale Wilson The City Champion
From:
Conrad Bladey (Peasant- Inactive)
Date: 18 May 00 - 08:56 AM
Teasdale Wilson the City Champion
air- The Happiest Man Alive Now ye've heard of Teasdale Wilson,
He's a keelman doon the shore,
They call him the City Champion,
'Caws they nivor had one before,
For a Keel or in a Coble
He'll give ony man a race,
For five, and twenty pund aside
An' toss for choice of place. Chorus-
Now he's a Sandgit lad,
The bloomin' City Champion,
So lads noo get yor money on,
Ye may depend upon,
Wheniver he rows he always goes
The whole Hog or none. Aw mind he rowed a coble race
Wi' Hopey doon at Blyth,
that race was for a hundred pund,
To win Hopey hard did strive;
But the Sandgit cheps they shooted hard,
When the wind blew Teasdale about,
and the Porter-pokemen aw did say,--
He's the gamest lad that's out. Aw mind when he rowed Matfin,
Now this agyen he won;
Ye'd died a laffin' had ye been there
And ony seen the fun,
As Matfin he fell out of his boat
When he was two lengths forst,
When Teasdale turn'd 'tis said,
He laffed till he nearly borst. He licked little Dickey Clasper,tee,
This caused agreet sensation,
'Twas tow to one on Dick that day,
For that there was no 'casion;
Mind Dickey took the lead at forst,
'An when they got to the shot tower,
Teasdale shut away a-heed,
Now isn't he a Cure. Aw can tell ye plenty mair he licked,
But aw think aw'l cut me stick,
They presented him wiv a watchand chain,
An' aw hope to that he'll stick;
So lang may Teasdale flourish,
an' to win he'll always strive,
The Sandgate cheps they all declare
He's the gamest lad alive. -Geordy Ridley
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