The Newcastle Song Book Part 51

Dance to thy daddy, sing to thy mammy, Dance to thy daddy, to thy mammy sing; Thou shalt have a fishy on a little dishy, Thou shalt have a fishy when the boat comes in.

Here's thy mother humming, Like a canny woman, Yonder comes thy father, Drunk, he cannot stand.

Dance to thy daddy, sing to thy mammy, Dance to thy daddy, to thy mammy sing; Thou shalt have a fishy on a little dishy, Thou shalt have a haddock when the boat comes in.

Our Tommy's always fuddling, He's so fond of ale,-- But he's kind to me-- I hope he'll never fail.

Dance to thy daddy, sing to thy mammy, Dance to thy daddy, to thy mammy sing; Thou shalt have a fishy on a little dishy, Thou shalt have a codling when the boat comes in.

I like a drop mysel', When I can get it sly, And thou, my bonny bairn, Will lik't as well as I.

Dance to thy daddy, sing to thy mammy, Dance to thy daddy, to thy mammy sing; Thou shalt have a fishy on a little dishy, Thou shalt have a mack'rel when the boat comes in.

May we get a drop Oft as we stand in need, And weel may the keel row That brings the bairns their bread.

Dance to thy daddy, sing to thy mammy, Dance to thy daddy, to thy mammy sing; Thou shalt have a fishy on a little dishy, Thou shalt have a salmon, when the boat comes in.

W. WATSON.

THE FRIAR AND THE NUN,

_A Midnight Colloquy of the Nuns' Field_.

Said the Ghost of a Nun to a Friar Grey-- "Dear brother, what changes we've seen!

There's here to be built a New Market, they say, Which was once, you know, our bleaching green."

Such were the sounds that smote on my ear, As I stray'd in the Nuns' Field one night,-- And I sat down beneath an old elm-tree to hear, Though my hair stood on end at the sight.

"There's nought," quoth the Friar, "but heaps of stones, Where oft I have stray'd as a sinner; The bell that once warn'd us to vespers and nones, Now warns Grainger's workmen of dinner.

Alack! sister Anne, a heretic race, With ap.r.o.ns of blue, or of tartan,-- Red night-caps for hoods, will soon take our place-- But they all will be d----d for certain."

"Dear brother," said she, "only think on this spot, Where our portion was penance and stripes, Old men will be crying, 'Hot pies here, all hot,'

And women, 'Black-puddings and tripes.'

Where we walk'd so devoutly, soon those who succeed us, In all worldly pride will soon strut on,-- Where we utter'd our mournful _Aves_ and _Credos_, Will hang rounds of beef and fat mutton."

"Yes, sister," said he, "where we chaunted _Te Deum_, And sighed our prayer to the breeze,-- Where we us'd to confess, ere long will we see 'em A chaunting lewd ditties and glees; The ground where we stand will be strew'd soon with buyers, Pursuing their ways so mistaken; Extinct is the race now of Holy Friars, Save those who are Fryers of Bacon.

In spite of Sir Andrew, these sinful elves Will still buy and sell on a Sunday; But soon they'll be wandering ghosts, like ourselves-- _Sic transit gloria mundi_."

A low'ring black cloud--most dismal to see-- Now hid the soft moon-beams so bright; And I rose from beneath an old elm-tree, For the Ghosts had vanish'd from sight.

ST. NICHOLAS' GREAT BELL.

Oh, have you seen the mighty bell, That none in England can excel,-- The Tom of Lincoln's but a sh.e.l.l To the great bell of Saint Nicholas.

Oh, such rare things ne'er was before-- To hear it strike eight miles, or more, To wake the workmen, when they snore-- Ay, this great bell of Saint Nicholas.

(_Spoken_)--I say, Patrick, have you been after seeing the great bell that's just gone up to that great lump of a Protestant church?--A big bell, do they call it? by the saints, I thought it was an extinguisher for the light at its ugly mug--A great bell, indeed; by the powers! you know yourself it's only like a skull-cap to my great grandmother's praty pot, that she used to boil kail-cannon in at the harvest.--You are right, Patrick, but still we'll

Drink success to this bell--ding, dong-- That'll wake the folks in country and town, And their maids to milk their cows in the morn, The great bell of Saint Nicholas.

Lord, how the people they did run, When they heard the small bells ring like fun, Shouting, there's something to be done At the old church of Saint Nicholas.

The shopkeepers out of their doors did stare At such a thing, so great and rare, And the flags were waving in the air, O'er the great bell of Saint Nicholas.

(Spoken.)--Well, I suppose they will christen it--Hout, man, they christened it yesterday at the foundery, down at Hawks'.--Well, then, they'll have to consecrate it now.--Ay, horses and all--What! consecrate horses, you foolish man! Ay, then they'll be most fit for hea.r.s.es and mourning coaches.

Drink success to this bell, &c.

And after all the noisy storm, We've liv'd to see real church reform-- Six horses standing snug and warm, In the old church of Saint Nicholas.

You should have been at the church, To have seen the horses in the porch,-- The devil will say--I'm in the lurch, No use for me at Saint Nicholas.

(Spoken.)--I say, Geordy, did you ever see such a great thing as that before?--Where is it gan' te?--Why, to the church; it's the great bell that was bequeathed by Major Anderson, to flay away the rooks and craws frae the town--to hinder them from building either on churches or exchanges. Ay, ay, but I think it wad ha'e been far better if they'd myed it to flay away poverty frae wor doors, and cast it as a boiler for soup. What say you, Geordy?--It wad, as ye say--but I'll

Drink success, &c.

A drunken cobbler made a vow, In the Major he would make a shoe,-- And he work'd away till all was blue In the great bell of Saint Nicholas.

The shoe being made, to the man of leather The people cried--Well done! O clever,-- You should have a grant to work for ever In the great bell of Saint Nicholas.

Drink success to this bell, &c.

LUKEY'S DREAM.

Tune--"Caller Fair."

The other neet aw went to bed, Being weary wi' maw wark, man; Aw dreamt that Billy Scott was deed-- It's curious to remark, man Aw thought aw saw his buryin' fair, And knew the comp'ny a', man-- For a' poor Billy's friends were there, To see him levelled law, man.

Blind Willie slowly led the band, As beagle, on the way, man; A staff he carried in his hand, And shook his head se grey, man; At his reet hand was Buggy Jack, With his hat-brim se broad, man; And on his left was Bill the Black, Ti lead him on his road, man.

Big Bob, X. Y. and other two, That leeves upon the deed, man-- They bore his corpse before the crew, Expecting to be fee'd, man; His nyemsyek, Euphy Scott, was there, Her bonny Geordy, tee, man, Distress'd--they cried, (this happy pair,) Ne mair we will him see, man!

Bold Jocker was amang them, tee, Brave Cuckoo Jack and a', man; And hairy Tom, the keelman's son, And bonny Dolly Raw, man; And Bella Roy, and Tatie Bet, They cried till out o' breath, man-- For sair these twosome did regret For canny Billy's deeth, man.

But Hangy luickt above them a', He is se sma' and lang, man-- And Bobby Knox, the Dog-bank Ox, Was sobbin' i' the thrang, man; And Coiner, wi' his swill and shull, Was squeakin' like a bairn, man, And knack-knee'd Mat, that drucken fyul, Like a monkey he did gairn, man.

Tally-i-o, that dirty wretch, Was then the next I saw, man-- And Peggy Powell, Step-and-fetch, Was haddin' up her jaw, man-- And frae the Close was Bobby Hush, Wi' his greet gob se wide, man-- Alang wi' him was Push-Peg-Push, Lamentin' by his side, man.

And roguish Ralph, and busy Bruce, That leeves upon their prey, man, Did not neglect, but did protect Their friends upon the way, man; And Jimmy Liddle, drest in black, Behint them a' did droop, man; He had a coat on like the Quak's, That feeds us a' wi' soup, man.

Now, when they got him tiv his grave, He then began to shout, man; For Billy being but in a trance, Bi this time cam about, man: Then Jocker, wi' a sandy styen, The coffin split wi' speed, man-- They a' rejoic'd to see agyen Poor Bill they thought was deed, man.