Subject: Lyr Add: Wreckenton Hiring|
Conrad Bladey (Peasant- Inactive)
Date: 13 Jun 00 - 04:03 PM
Oh, Lads and Lasses, hither come
To Wrekenton, to see the fun,
And mind ye bring your Sunday shoon,
There'll be rare wark wi' dancing-o.
And Lasses now, without a brag,
Bring pockets like a fiddle bag,
Ye'll get them cramm'd wi' mony a whag
Of pepper-kyek an' scranchim-o.
And Bess put on that bonny goon
thy mother bought thou at the toon;
That straw-hat wi' the ribbons broon,
They'll a' be buss'd that's coming-o:
Put that reed ribbon round thy waist,
It myeks thou luik sae full o' grace,
Then up the Lonnen come in haste,
They'll think thou's com'd frae Lunnen-o.
Ned pat on his sunday's coat,
His hat and breeches cost a note,
With a new stiff'ner round his throat,
He luikt the very dandy-o;
He thought that he was gaun to choke,
For he'd to gyep before he spoke;
He met Bess at the Royal Oak,
They had baith yell and brandy-o.
Each lad was there wi' his sweetheart,
and a' was ready for a start,
When in com Jack wi' Fanny Smart,
And brought a merry Scrapeer-o;
Then Ned jump'd up upon his feet,
And on the table myed a seat;
Then bounc'd the Fiddler up a heet,
Saying, Play and we will caper-o.
Now Ned and Bess led off the ball,
Play Smash the windows, he did call,
Keep in yor feet, says Hitchy Mall,
Learn'd dancers hae sic prancing-o:
Now Ned was nother lyeth nor lyem,
and faith he had baith bouk and byen,
Ye wad thought his feet was myed o' styen,
He gav sic thuds wi' dancing-o.
Now Jackey Fanny's hand did seize,
Cry'd Fiddler, tune your strings to please!
Play, Kiss her weel amang the trees,
She is my darlin, bliss her-o!
Then off they set, wi' sic a smack,
They myed the joints a' bend and crack:
When duen he took her round the neck,
And faith he dident miss her-o.
The fiddler's elbow wagg'd a' neet,
He thought he wad dropt off his seat,
For deil a bit they'd let him eat,
They were sae keen o' dancin- o.
Some had to strip their coats for heet,
And sarks and shifts were wet wi' sweet!
They cramm'd their guts, for want o' meat,
Wi' ginger-breed and scranchim-o.
Now cocks had crawn an hour or more,
And ower the yell-pot some did snore;
But how they lukt to hear the roar
Of Matt, the King Pit caller-o!
Smash him! says Ned, he mun be rang,
He's callin' through his sleep, aw's war'n;
Then shootin' to the door he ran--
Thou's asleep, thou rousty bawler-o!
Now they danc'd agyen till it was day,
Anbd then went hyem--but by the way,
Some of them had rare fun, they say,
And fand it nine months after-o;
Such tricks are play'd by heedless youth;
And though they're common, north and south,
That's nae excuse for breach of truth,
Nor food for wit and laughter-o.
Suen Wreckenton will bear the sway,
Two Members they'll put in, they say;
Then wor Taxes will be duen away,
Andwe'll a' sing now or never-o:
Backey and Tea will be sae cheap,
Wives will sit up when they sud sleep,
Andwe'll float in yell at wor Pay-week,
Then Wreckenton for ever-o.
-In: The Newcastle Song Book or Tyne-Side Songster., W&T Fordyce
Newcastle Upon Tyne.