The Newcastle Song Book Part 47

The procession was headed by Barbara Bell, He was follow'd by chuckle-head Chancellor Kell-- Mally Ogle appear'd, wi' a barrel o' yell, To drink to the health of aud Euphy.

Honest Blind Willie, tee, gaw them a call-- There was great Bouncing Bet, Billy Hush, and Rag Sall, The Babe o' the Wood, with Putty-mouth Mall, A' went to crown honest aud Euphy.

There was a grand invitation for byeth great and sma'-- Her subjects a.s.sembled, did loudly hurra!-- She was n.o.bly supported by bauld Dolly Raw, At the crowning of honest aud Euphy; But Ralphy the Hawk was in prey for a job, Wiv his small quarter-staff, wish'd to silence the mob-- He was silenc'd when he gat the beer-barrel tiv his gob, At the crowning of honest aud Euphy.

Euphy and Madge were the gaze i' the show, They were lang loudly cheer'd by the famous Jin Bo;-- To preserve peace and order there was barrel-bagg'd Joe, At the crowning of honest aud Euphy.

To make an oration was the Chancellor's wish, While his turbot-head sweel'd like a smoking het dish; Bauld Dolly Raw stopt his gob wi' a cod fish, At the crowning of honest aud Euphy.

By great Billy Hush, Euphy queen was declar'd!

To move frae the market her subjects prepar'd; To the auld Custom-house the procession repair'd, To drink at the cost of aud Euphy.

Fine Barbara Bell grand music did play, Which elevated the spirits of young Bella G--y, 'Keep your tail up!' she wad sing a' the way, At the crowning of honest aud Euphy.

To lead off the ball, for the queen they did cry, To please all her people, she was there to comply; Peggy Grundy would follow, wi' Big Bob and X Y, To a.s.sist in the dance wi' Queen Euphy.

The dancing was ended, down to dine they a' sat; Roast beef and pig-cheek--a good swig follow'd that; The fragments were reserv'd in Chancellor Kell's hat, At the crowning of honest aud Euphy.

The Chancellor's gob was beginning to swet, He swill'd it away till he gat ower wet, He was led to the Tower by young Beagle Bet, Frae the crowning of honest aud Euphy: Bella Roy was beginning to produce all her slack-- She was tuen hyem on a barrow, by wise Basket Jack; The sport was weel relish'd by Billy the Black, At the crowning of honest aud Euphy.

A speech was now myed frae the queen, i' the chair-- To study their good she would take a great care; They aw had her blessing--what could she say mair?

G.o.d bless the Queen, honest aud Euphy!

Wi' cheers for the Queen, the house oft did ring-- By their humble request she the 'Keel-row' did sing; They a' happy retir'd, wi' 'G.o.d save the King!'

Frae the crowning of honest aud Euphy.

THOMAS MARSHALL.

SANDGATE WIFE'S NURSE SONG.

Tune--"A Sailor's Wife has nought to dee."

A, U, A, my bonny bairn, A, U, A, upon my airm, A, U, A--thou suin may learn To say dada se canny: Aw wish thy daddy may be weel, He's lang i' coming frae the keel; Tho' his black fyesce be like the de'il, Aw like a kiss frae Johnny.

A, U, A, &c,

Thou really hast thy daddy's chin, Thou art like him leg and wing, And aw wi' pleasure can thee sing, Since thou belangs my Johnny.

Johnny is a clever lad-- Last neet he fuddled aw he had, This morn he wasn't very bad-- He luik'd as blithe as ony.

Tho' thou's the first, thou's not the last; Aw mean to hae my bairns fast-- And when this happy time is past, Aw still will love my Johnny; For his hair is brown, and see is thine, Your eyes are grey, and se are mine, Thy nose is taper'd off se fine-- Thou's like thy daddy Johnny.

Thy canny doup is fat and round, And, like thy dad, thou's plump and sound, Thou's worth to me a thousand pound, Thou's a' together bonny.

When daddy's drunk, he'll tyek a knife, And threaten sair to tyek my life: Whe wad not be a keelman's wife, To have a man like Johnny.

But yonder's daddy coming now, He links the best amang the crew; They're a' gaun to the Barley-mow, My canny, good-like Johnny.

Come, let's go get the bacon fried, And let us make a clean fireside, Then on his knee he will thee ride, When he comes hyem to mammy.

BOLD JACK OF THE JOURNAL.

[Written on reading Mr. Larkin's "Letter to the Protestants of Newcastle," on the subject of "Maria Monk's Awful Disclosures."]

Bold Jack of the _Journal_-- From regions infernal!-- The Catholic Clergy Would hang or would burn all!

This insolent Tory Is now in his glory, And currency gives To Miss Monk's lying story.

For his bl.u.s.t'rin' and barkin', And fulsome remarking Brave, honest Charles Larkin Has gi'en him a yarkin'.

_Newcastle, Sept, 1836._

STEAM SOUP;

_Or, Cuckoo Jack's Pet.i.tion._

Tune--"X Y Z."

Let c.o.c.knies brag o' turtle-soup, and Frenchmen o' their frogs, man-- Newcastle soup, such famous stuff, it feeds us fat as hogs man!

Yor Callipee and Callipash, compar'd tiv it, is n.o.bbit trash-- Strang knees and houghs stew'd down to mush, are gobbled up by every slush; Wi' pluck an' taties folks are duen, for smoking soup in crowds they run, And sup till they are fu', man! Fal de ral, &c.

A skipper and his wife sat down, to give a quairt a try, man, When something stuck in Mally's throat, and choak'd her very nigh, man: Poor Mally blair'd, and turn'd quite pale--and out she pull'd a great rat's tail!

Says Jack, aw'll off to Mr. Mayor, and tell the story tiv a hair-- Aw think it is a shameful joke, to sell such stuff wor Mall to choke-- It's wa.r.s.e than tatie stew, man! Fal de ral, &c.

Whe knaws but these fine dandy cooks hire resurrection faws, man, To stock them with forbidden flesh, agyen our famous laws, man: A cook in France, now understand, as sure's the sun inleets wor land, Did kidnap bairns, an' mince them down, and myed sic pies, that a' the town Wad eat nowt else--thowt nowt se fine; they fand him out--then, what a shine!-- They hang'd him on a tree, man! Fal de ral, &c.

O w.i.l.l.y, man, wor canny king, ye knaw best how to feed us-- Ye ken what we can de at sea, at ony time ye need us; Cram a' their necks into a loop, that try to cross wor breed wi' soup; Or gar them pay a heavy fine, that dare unnerve yor tars of Tyne; Then in the fight we'll loudly cheer, when we're restor'd to flesh and beer-- Hurra! for England's king, man! Fal de ral, &c.

R. EMERY.

THE SANDGATE La.s.s ON THE ROPERY BANKS.

Tune--"The Skipper's Wedding."

On the Ropery-banks Jenny was sitting-- She had on a bed-gown just new, And blithely the la.s.sie was knitting Wi' yarn of a bonny sky-blue.

The strings of her cap they were hinging, Se lang, on her shoulders se fine, And hearty I heard this la.s.s singing-- My bonny keel lad shall be mine.

O wad the keel come down the river, That I my dear laddie could see, He whistles and dances se clever, My bonny keel laddie for me.

Last neet, in amang these green dockings, He fed me wi' gingerbread spice-- I promis'd to knit him his stockings, He cuddled and kiss'd me se nice; He ca'd me his jewel and hinney, He ca'd me his pet and his bride, And he swore that I should be his Jenny, To lie at neets down by his side.

O wad the keel, &c.