Subject: Paganini the Fiddler
From:
*Conrad Bladey Peasant-Inactive
Date: 30 Jul 00 - 04:09 PM
Pagannini The Fiddler
Or, The Pitman's Frolic
Tune-- The Kebbuckstane Wedding Come, lay up your lugs, and aw'll sing you a sang,
It's nyen o' the best, but it's braw new and funny--
In these weary times, when we're not very thrang,
A stave cheers wor hearts, tho' it brings us ne money:
Aw left Shiney Raw, for Newcassel did steer,
Wi' three or four mair of our neighbours se canny,
Determin'd to gan to the play-house to hear
The King o' the fiddlers, the great Baggy Nanny. Chorus;
Right fal, &c.. We reach'd the Arcade, rather drouthy and sair--
It's a house full of pastry-cooks, bankers, and drapers--
At the fine fancy fair, how my marrows did stare,
On the muffs, hats, and beavers, se fam'd in the papers;
At Beasley's where liquour's se cheap and se prime,
A bottle aw purchas'd for maw sweetheart, Fanny,
We drank nowt but brandy--and when it was time,
We stagger'd away to see great Baggy Nanny. We gat t' the door, 'mang the crowd wedid crush,
Half way up the stairs I was carried se handy;
The lassie ahint us cried, Push, hinny, push--
Till they squeez'd me as sma' and as smart as a dandy;
We reach'd the stair-heed, nearly smuther'd, indeed--
The gas letters glitter'd, the paintings look'd canny--
Aw clapt mysel' down side a lass o' reet breed,
Maw hinny, says aw, hae ye seen Baggy Nanny. The lassie she twitter'd, and look'd rather queer,
and said, in this house there is mony a dozen,
They're planted so thick, that there's no sitting here,
They smell so confounded o' cat-gut and rosin;
The curtain flew up, and a lady did squall,
To fine music play'd by a Cockney bit mannie,
Then frae the front seats I suen heard my friends bawl,
Offhats, smash yor brains, here comes great Baggy Nanny. An outlandish chep suen appear'd on thestage,
And cut as odd capers as wor maister's flonkey,
He skipp'd and he fiddled, as if in a rage--
If he had but a tail, he might pass for a monkey!
Deil smash a good tune could this bowdykite play--
His fiddle wadhardly e'en please my aud grannie--
So aw suen join'd my marrows and toddled away,
And wish'd a good neet to the great Baggy Nanny. On crossing Tyne-brig, how wor lads ran the rig,
At being se silly duen out o' their money,--
Odd bother maw wig, had he play'd us a jig,
We might tell'd them at hyem, we'd seen something quite funny;
But law be it spoke, and depend its ne joke--
Yen and a' did agree he was something uncanny,
Though, dark o'er each tree, he before us did flee,
And fiddled us hyem did this great Baggy Nanny R. Emery.-In: The Newcastle Song Book or Tyne-Side Songster., W&T Fordyce
Newcastle Upon Tyne.
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