A MUSICAL CELEBRATION OF OUR HISTORY AND CULTURE
WORDS
WORDS A - B
AA WISH YER MOTHER WAD COME
Come, Geordy, haad the bairn, aa's sure aa'll not stop lang,
Aa'd tek the jewel mesel, but really aa's not strang;
There's flour and coals te get, the hoose-turns they're not done,
So haad the bairn, for fairs, ye've often done it for fun!
Then Geordy tyeuk the bairn, but sair again his will,
The poor bit thing was good, but Geordy had ne skill,
He hadn't its mother's ways, he sat both stiff and numb,
Before five minutes was past, he wished its mother wad come!
His wife had scarcely gyen, the bairn begun te squall,
With hikin' it up an' doon, he'd let the poor thing fall,
It waddent haad its tongue, though some aad teun he'd hum,-
"Jack an' Jill went up a hill," Aa wish yer mother wad come!
What weary toil, says he, this nursin' bairns must be,
A bit of it's weel enough, aye quite enough for me,
Te keep a crying bairn, it may be grand te some,
A day's work's not as bad, Aa wish yor mother wad come!
What a selfish world this is, there's nowt mair se than man;
He laughs at women's toil, and winnet nurse his aan;-
It's startin te cry agen, aa see tuts through its gum,
Maw little bit pet, dinnet fret, Aa wish yer muther wad cum.
But kindness does a vast, it's ne use gettin' vext,
It winnet please the bairn, or ease a mind perplext;
At last,-its gyen te sleep, the wife 'ill not say aa's numb,
She'll think aa's a reet good nurse,-Oh, Aa wish yor mother wad come!
On Monday morn the miller come in,
Me wife begun to cry-
He said if he couldn't get his tin,
He wad surely stop the supply,
Aa's proud to remark that Aa was at work,;
And oot o' the way o' the 'hum';
An' a' the whole day Aa was singin' away
Aa wish Pay Friday wad come.
A minadge man wanted three pund ten
For troosers, coat, an' vest,
An' when he come to seek his share
He was served like aal the rest.
So away he went, seemin' discontent,
But like a man that was dumb;
An' when he went oot Aa give a greet shoot,
Aa wish Pay Friday wad cum.
We had nowt to eat, neither tatties nor meat, an' the bairns was cryin' for breed
Me wife was frettin' away her life, and Aa wished that Aa was deed.
Me brand new suit had te gan up the spoot, (It's a regular practice wi' some),
It's not a good plan for a hard-workin' man, So Aa wish Pay Friday wad come.
But next pay-day, Aa'll lay me life, Aa'll not be such a fyeul ;
Aa'll tek me pay stright hyme te me wife, Instead o' gan' off te the 'Skyeul',
Aa'll treat mesel' wiv a glass of good ale, and me wife wiv a glass of good rum,
And Aa'll give her the rest te manage her best, So Aa wish Pay Friday wad come.
AA WISH PAY FRIDAY WAD COME
'Twas last Pay Friday afternoon,
Aa went an' drew me pay,
An' like a feul unto the 'skeul',
Aa surely bent me way:
Aa soon lost aal me money,
And Aa stood till Aa was numb,
Then away Aa went hyeme, an' wished te mesel'
That next Pay Friday wad come.
When Aa went hyeme an' telt me wife,
She nearly broke her heart;
Says she, "Me lad, such work as this,
Is sure to mek us part ;
Aa waddent o'cared if ye'd come hyeme drunk,
Wi' strang whisky, beer or rum,
Aa wad o' tyeun the rest and done me best,
Till another Pay Friday wad come."
Then she sobbed an' sighed, an' the bairns aal cried,
And Aa was varry bad :
A confused hoose an' a woman's abuse
Is enough te drive a man mad;
But Aa knew varry weel what caused it aal,
So Aa sat as if Aa was dumb,
Te speak Aa was flaid, so nowt was said,
But Aa wished Pity Friday wad come.
The grocer an' butcher, and, shoemaker,tee,
They aall come smilin' in,
But what was my poor wife te de
But tell them she had ne tin,
Their smiles was aall turned into froons-
It nearly struck them dumb ;
An' when they went oot, Aa couldn't say nowt,
But Aa wished Pay Friday wad come.
On Saturday morn, te be oot o' the way,
Aa teuk mesel' off te the toon,
But havin' ne brass to set iss in,
Had te wander up and doon.
Aa met many a ken'd fyce in the street,
But they aall appeared te be dumb,
And all the way hyeme, Aa sang te mesel',
On Sunday morn, when Aa got up,
The sun se bright did shine;
There was nowt provided in the hoose,
To break wor fast or dine.
The bairns was cryin' oot for broth,
An' a greet marrow bone med some:
They med the hoose' ring wi' tryin' te sing,
AAD STOKESLEY TOON
Aa heven't always stopped at hyeme, A'ave oft been up and doon,
But there's not many spots aave seen, that licks aad Stokesley Toon.
We've not much trade, Aa must confess,for Stockton did us doon,
With takin the Market clean away, from poor aad Stokesley Toon.
But nivver mind, we get alang, we din't sit doon and froon,
If trade be bad wer hearts is good, in poor aad Stokesly Toon.
We're far behind the race for wealth, so we can't win renoon'
But we can have true happiness, in canny Stokesley Toon.
But stop a bit, Aa may be wrang, we've one chance for renoon,
There's the cricket team, it's hard te beat, in canny Stokesley Toon.
We've glorious neets in the Summer time, there's ne place under the moon,
Where the new hay smells se sweet in the streets, as it dis in Stokesley Toon.
There's many a yen that's gyen away, and oft wad give a croon,
Te hev a waalk in the fields ootside, canny Stokesley Toon.
So if ye come te see us here, hev a walk aroond,
It's likey changed, but the folks is the same, in canny Stokesley Toon.
ADAM BUCKAM
It's doon the Lang stairs,
And it's stright alang the Close,
Aall in Baker's Entry,
Adam Buckam goes.
CHORUS; Oh, Adam Buckam, Oh,
Oh, Adam Buckam, Oh,
With his bow legs.
Now Nanny carries watter,
And Tommy cobbles shoes.
Adam Buckam gans aroond,
Gatherin' bits of news.
Now Tommy Smith's a porter-pokeman,
That's a canny job.
Shootin' off his gob.
But Adam kissed the servin' maid,
And that'll never do,
If he dissent mind his ways,
She'll mek him sarely rue.
AFFECTAYSHUN
Now there's somethin' they caall 'Affectayshun',
At least Aa believe that's the name,
That's got inte the heed o' wor Bella,
An' med the lass nowt like the same;
She was once what we might caall real canny,
And homely wiv' Aa be hor side,
Now she's gor what they caall 'Affectayshun',
But Aa think that's the new name for pride.
The bit dress that she once wore se tidy
Wes cotton, but now she'll not wear
Owt that dissent shine like silk or satin,
She's gan' te the divil, Aa fear,
The floonsis she hes she keeps tossin'
The hoops that she weers sic a size,
And she walks throo the streets wiv a swagger,
As tho' she'd command ivry eye.
Ye wad think she'd forgotten Newcassil,
She mixes the dialect se,
If she only cud manidge plain English,
It might for a little bit de,
She flings up her heed when she's talkin,
As if yor attenshun she'd draw,
If ye give a questin' that's puzzlin',
She'll gurn, an' she'll say "Aa don't knaw."
Man, it's painful te hear the lass laffin',
It's nowt like a gud hearty laff,
That a chep likes te hear when he's merry,
Indulgin I' sum harmles chaff;
Ye wad think it wes greet condesenshun
Iv her te gie vent tiv a smile,
But Aa's fairly teun back when she's laffin',
For ye'd say that she's chokin' the while.
And Aa's sure she's forgot the gud manners
Her muther wad teach her when young,
For she whispers on nowt that's important,
An' tawks when thor's onything sung;
Ye wad think she's forgot that her father,
Works hard for their breed every day
For she's got the air of a princess
But gie me the awd-fashion'd way.
Of a lass that forgets not her station,
Whatever the changes may be,
Then she's startin' te gain approbashun,
Frae nonsense and such-like be free.
BONNY SALLY WHEATLEY
Now Aa's both depressed an' sad, though Aa once was blithe an' glad,
An' could trip aboot the toon both trim an' neatly;
Aa was happy neet an' morn, but of aall such joys aa's shorn,
Since Aa fell se deep in love wi' Sally Wheatley.
CHORUS; Oh, dear me, Aa divvent knaa what te de,
For Sally's teun me heart away completely,
An' Aa'll nivor get it back,
For she gans wi' Mistor Black,
An' they say he's gan te marry Sally Wheatley.
Hoo Aa felt Aa dinnet knaa, the first time aa Sally saw,
In a threesome reel she hopped aboot se sweetly;
An' Aa might hev had a chance, if Aa'd askt her up te dance,
But Aa was ower shy te speak te Sally Wheatley.
So, as often is the case, ye'll find others in yer place,
If ye divvent shove aheed-an' fettle reetly,
For Aa'd scarcely turn'd me back, when Aa there saw yon Mister Black,
He was jiggin' roond the room wi' Sally Wheatley.
An' he mun've med it reet, when he set her hyem that neet-
After work, dresssed up, he gans te see her neetly;
There's greet danger in delay, or Aa'd not been sad th' day
If Aa had a heart Aa'd breck't for Sally Wheatley.
ALANG THE ROMAN WAAL
At skyul we aal were towld aboot The Romans that came up North,
And built a great big hefty wall, From Tyneside to Solway Forth,
But how they frittered their time away, when naebody wanted a fight,
The teacher knew but he wadn't say, so Aa'll tell ye aall tonight.
Chorus:
Alang the Roman Waal, alang the Roman Waal,
The Roman ways in byegone days, was terrible te recall,
Cos aal the fat centurions, from Heddon te Wetheraal,
Were chasin' the lassies aal ower the place;
Alang the Roman Waal.
They walked aboot wi' helmets on, unless they were gannin' te bed,
They had nae sergeants, or NCOs, they'd just Centurions instead,
But one thing fairly amazes me, they spoke a language sae queer
How on Saturday neets when oot on the spree,
They could order pints of beer.
Chorus
Aa've hunted aroond for souvenirs, that's not in the big museum,
But aal Aa've fund is lumps of brass, just rubbish to me they seem,
Aa'd like to dig up a pot of gowld, te stand me missus a treat,
Or Nero's fiddle though it' s a bit owld,
Aa would play it each Saturday neet.
ALWINTON SHOW
Now the summer was gittin' on, and everybody was aglow,
At the thowt o' gannin' up Coquet ti the great Al'inton Show.
The work for the show starts orly in the year,
When a meetin' is held ower a pint o' good beer.
The Committee an' workers are the same aad faces,
There's farmers an' hairds from aa' the hill places.
Now, as summer slides away, times gittin' near,
Ti open the gates o' the Show o' the Year.
The mornin' starts orly, aboot half-past eight,
Wi' not a cloud in the sky an' the sun shinin' bright.
Then the wagons started comin' wi' aal the pack sheep,
An' the dog trial got started, wi' Bob Frazer an' Sweep.
The big tent started fillin' wi' aal different stuff,
But the judges would please some, an' others they wad huff.
The sheep pens were full an the judgin' was sae hard
Wi' every class at its best an' the winners got a reed card.
Alwin Bland browt his good ewe an' won the Big Cup,
But Jimmy Herdman was close behind wi' his grand owld tup.
There was trade stands an' smaal tents all ower the place.
An everybody waas gittin' ready for the Great Hill Race.
Now they started the Hoond Trail after the hill race was done,
An' the men were comin' oot the pubs ti join in the fun.
Now in the big ring there was sports of aal kind;
There was jumpin' and wrestlin' an' owt mair they could find.
The hoppins were there an' gannin' at full swing,
An' up in the pub they were startin' ti sing.
There was three cheers for Bobby Dixon,
Cause he's everybody's friend,
An the Pipe band waas playin'
Ti bring the show tiv an end.
THE AMBLE FEAST
Haven't ye heard of the Amble Feast,
Hinnies you've missed a treat;
From North and South, from West to East,
Everyone there you meet;
Lasses and lads have a gala day,
As they prance aboot wi' glee,
They dance on the green so if ye've not been,
Then hurry alang wi' me.
Chorus; Come alang te the feast at Amble
Join in the fun, it's a regular scramble
Everybody will frolic and gambol,
Hey nonny nonny and derry down day.
Aall the hinnies from Warkworth and Ashington,
Blyth and Morpeth will be there,
Such a pushin' and shovin' and jostlin'
But aall good humoured at Amble Fair.
Come along to the feast at Amble,
Join in the fun, it's a regular scramble,
See the fat wives in the switch back cars*,
Shriekin' wi' nervous fright,
Some others will chose the shuggy shoos*,
Yellin' wi' aall their might,
Children gan on to the roondaboots
And the lads te the coco-not shies;
The lasses more bold have their fortunes told,
While others have hot peas and pies.
Chorus.
Coda; Feastin' away, happy and gay,
* Shuggy shoo, switchback cars=fairground rides
AND I SHALL CRY AGAIN
And I shall cry again, and not know why again,
The silken banners summon up the tears,
The men who march beneath them touch the soul;
I have not known the pitmen's hopes and fears,
I learnt them from the books I read at school.
But I shall cry again, and not know why again,
I see the union men who tried and failed,
And also some today who never even tried,
And I who never heard the widows wail,
Will hear the strains of 'Gresford'* for the men who died.
And then the politicians of today,
Will pry into those memories so deep,
And rally their supporters for the fray,
With promises I know they'll never even keep.
And I shall cry again, but I'll know why again.
THE ANGLER'S DELIGHT
When the sun is bright in the far eastern sky,
The angler departs with his rod, line and fly,
Of the vice of the town, nor its folly he dreams,
For his soul is wrapped up in the sport of the streams.
A lunch in his pocket, a creel on his back,
Up Tynedale he wanders, ne'er minding a track,
Though coloured the water and cloudy the sky,
His mind's full of hope when he puts on his fly.
The thrush it sings sweet in the blithe month of May,
And the air is perfumed with the early mown hay,
The flowers, too, are blooming so careless and wild,
And the breeze from the west is pleasant and mild.
Through the air go his flies, on the water they light,
As soft as if wings had assisted their flight,
The trout is deceived, then, 'whizz' goes the reel -
With a few plunges more, lo, he's snug in the creel!
But now when in glory, the sun it is high,
The fisher gives ease to his rod and his fly,
He rests all contented, his mind fancy free,
To sit on the banks with his lunch on his knee.
For as the wide water goes rolling on by,
With its song in his ear and its sheen on his eye,
He thinks though the banks of the Coquet are fine,
They can't be compared to the banks of the Tyne.
When his creel it is full, to home he's away,
His heart full of pleasure as he minds on the day,
And with catches a-plenty, with compliments sends,
A dish of the finest fresh trout to his friends.
ANY MINUTE NOW
Aa have a song for you, that Aa have sung before;
Aa sing it every year, and next year to be sure.
About the River Tyne, that haaky dorty queen,
They say they're gonna try, and make her fresh and clean.
CHORUS
So any minute now, ye'll see the salmon leap,
Any minute now, any minute now.
Aa saw a councilor with a frown upon his face,
Who said the Coaly Tyne was just a damn disgrace,
He said it angrily, Aa know he's quite sincere;
His words are ringing still, just as they were last year.
Aa read the papers through, the photographs were fine,
They showed the stinkin' mess and aall the filth and slime;
The editorial was nothin' if not clear,
The time has come, he said, (Just as it did last year).
THE AULD FISHER'S FAREWELL
Come bring to me my limber gad,
I've fished wi' many a year,
And let me have my weel worn creel,
And all my fishin' gear,
The sunbeams glint on Linden Hall,
The breeze comes frae the west,
And lovely looks the golden morn,
On the streams that I love best.
I've thrown the flee there sixty year,
Aye, sixty year and mair,
And many a speckled troutie killed,
Wi' heckle, hook and hair,
And now I'm old and feeble grown,
My locks are like the snaa,
But I'll gan again to Coquetside,
And take a farwell thraa.
0, Coquet! in my youthfu' days
Thy river sweetly ran,
And sweetly down thy woody braes
The bonnie birdies sang;
But streams may run and birds may sing,
Small joys they bring to me,
The blithesome strains I dimly bear,
The streams I dimly see.
But once again, the weel-kent sounds
My minutes shall beguile,
And glistening in the early sun
I'll see thy waters smile;
And sorrow shall forget his sigh,
And age forget his pain,
And once mair, by sweet Coquet-side,
My heart be young again.*
Once mair I'll touch wi' gleesome foot
Thy waters clear and cold,
Once mair I'll cheat the gleg-e'ed trout,
And wile him frae his hold;
Once mair, at Weldon's friendly door,
I'll wind my tackle up,
And drink success to Coquet-side,
Though a tear fall in the cup.
And then farewell, dear Coquet-side!
Aye gaily may thou run,
And lead thy waters sparkling on,
And dash frae linn to linn,
Blithe be the music of the stream,
And banks through after-days,
And blithe be every fisher's heart,
Shall ever tread thy braes.
THE BAD HALF CROON
We went across to Wylam on a Saturday night,
There was no beer at Prudhoe, so we couldn't get tight,
Reckoning wer money as we were gannin' doon,
All we had among us was a bad half croon.
The bad half croon couldn't get a drink,
The bad half croon had a rotten jink,
Standin' at the bar like a silly cloon,
Couldn't pay for the bitters with the bad half croon.
Straight ower the new bridge, past the bumbler box,
Inte the first pub, Aa believe they called "The Fox"
Ordered the bitters, the money was put doon,
When the Landlord discovered it was a bad half croon.
The landlord examined it, then hoyed it back,
Cally Telfer says, "It's genuine, it's only got a crack,
De ye think we're comin' here te take ye doon,
Aa'll bet ye a quid, it's not a bad half croon".
That waddn't do, he was gannin' by the jink,
Cally says te me, "Aa canna foot the drink"
The landlord says, "Aa'll trust ye", and put them doon,
So we landed back at Prudhoe wi' the bad half croon.
The next neet Cally landed hyeme, then got dressed,
Took it doon te "Dowthwaites", te put it te the test,
Walked up te the counter, and laid it doon
Cally says, "Is this a bad half croon?".
Teddy Kenny says, "Aa divven't think it, but it might"
Put it on the scales, it was the exact weight,
He rubbed something on it, te turn it broon,
When he said that "It hasn't, it's a Good Half Croon!".
THE BALLAD OF GEORGE WASHINGTON
Aa'll tell ye all what happened up in Washington New Town,
Aa saw a chap upon a horse and he rode up and down,
His clathes were all owld fashioned and "Good day te ye", he says,
He had a look o' Geordie Washington, Aa asked him if he was?
He says, "Aa cannot tell a lie", he had an honest face,
He says,"Yes, Aa'm George Washington, Aa've come te see the place".
Now, they say that Aa'd been drinkin',
Aa'd just had two or three,
And Aa tell ye Geordie Washington's Ghost,
Came back and spoke te me!
"Can ye direct me, please," he says, "To Washington Owld Hall?
That's my ancestral home, ye know, Aa thowt Aa'd make a call"
Aa says, "It's down Spout Lane - but, mind, there's ne through road there noo.
Just follow all the signs that says to districts three, fower, seven and two."
He says, "I cannot tell a lie - ye've answered me right well,"
He says "Aa get confused". Aa says, "Aa get confused mesel'!"
So off he went, but he was back the following night once more.
He says, "Aa've been to Usworth, Blackfell, Biddick and Shiney Row.
Aa passed the Post House fower times!" Aa said, "Ye would, of course!"
He says, "Aa've even got a parkin' ticket on me bloody horse."
He says, "Aa cannot tell a lie - with him you will agree
The planners did a right good job - It's all too much for me!"
"Aa got lost off," he says to me, "In districts six and seven.
There's ower many signs about - it's not like this in heaven."
Aa says, "Now I was born here, and Aa know the district well.
Just come along wi' me, me bonny lad." And Aa got lost mesel!
He says, "Aa cannot tell a lie" - he had an honest face.
He says, "Aa'm packin' up, me lad - Aa divven't like this place."
THE BALLAD OF -IACK CRAWFORD
Jack Crawford was a Sunderland man,he worked on board a keel
Up and down Wear Valley, he knew the river weel,
But then he joined the navy, amongst the cannon's blast,
And there became the hero who nailed his colours to the mast,
Chorus;Nailed his colours to the mast,nailed his colours to the mast,
And there became the hero,who nailed his colours to the mast.
Jack sailed aboard the'Venerable', the flagship of the fleet, They sailed Into the Channel,the Hollanders to meet,
The battle was at Camperdown, and shot flew thick and fast,
And that's where Jack Crawford nailed his colours to the mast
Six times the flag was shot away, as the chain shot flew like hail,
Till the mast top fell to the deck, and the fleet begun to fail,
Jack Crawford picked up the flag, and nimble to the last,
Climbed atop the main and nailed his colours to the mast.
Oh! what a cheer was heard that day,and the English Tars fought back,
The Dutch were torn asunder,and the cry went up for Jack,
Admiral Duncan stepped up to him, saying "We've won the day at last, For Jack Crawford the hero, nailed his colours to the mast"
Now Jack was called to London, sent for by the King,
He says "Jack, you're a hero", as the crowd began to sing,
"Here's a pension, thirty pound a year, for you fought them to the last, Raise a cheer for brave Jack Crawford,who nailed his colours to the mast".
So if you go to Sunderland, leave the streets and crowd,
See the statue of him there,that stands up se proud,
In the Mowbray Park, pause as you go past,
And remember Brave Jack Crawford, who nailed his colours to the mast.
THE BANKS OF THE DEE
Last Saturday night on the banks of the Dee,
I met an old man, in distress I did see,
We sat down together and to me he did say,
I've lost my employment,'cos my hair it's turned grey.
I am an old miner, aged fifty and six,
If I could get lots, I would raffle me picks,
I'd raffle them, sell them, I'd throw them away,
For I can't get employment, 'cos my hair it's turned grey.
When I was a young chap, I was just like the rest,
Each day in the pit, I'd do my very best,
When I had a loose place, I'd be filling all day,
Now at fifty and six, my hair it's turned grey.
Last Wednesday night, to the reckoning I went,
To the colliery office, I went straight forenenst,
I'd just got my pay packet, I was walking away,
When they gave me my notice, 'cause my hair it's turned grey.
Now all you young fellows, it's you that's to blame,
If you get good places, you'll do just the same,
If you get good prices you'd hew them away,
But you're sure to regret it, when your hair it's turned grey.
THE BANKS OF TYNE
As I went out one summer's day to see the fields so green,
The bushes they were in full bloom, so lovely to be seen,
When hedges were adomed, so brightly they did shine,
There I met my lovely Nancy, down by the banks of Tyne.
And with a joyful harmony, she made the valleys ring,
The lofty larks descending, when this maid began to sing;
The pretty little small birds, in chorus they did sing,
0, they filled the air with melody, all round the banks of Tyne.
Her hair was like the links of gold, this charming beauty bright,
Her eyes did gleam like diamonds, or the shining stars of night;
I says, "My pretty fair maid, if that you were mine,
0, we'd spend the days in harmony, all on the banks of Tyne.
She says, 'My jolly sailor bold, how can you make so free?
I think by your appearance, you're lately come from sea,
Come sit you down along with me, if that you do incline,
For I love a sailor's company, all on the banks of Tyne.
For once I loved a sailor, bold as ever crossed the main,
He was proper, tall, and handsome, I think you are the same,'
'O, yes, my lovely Nancy, with hand in hand well join,
And well live in peace and unity, all round the banks of Tyne
When in the midst of danger, all round on every side,
When cannon ball did fly like hail all on the ocean wide,
I was thinking on my Nancy, the girl I left behind,
That I should see my own true love, all on the banks of Tyne.
Come, come my lovely Nancy, to church let us away,
And we will quickly married be without the least delay,
And afterwards, my own true love, well crown the day with wine,
And we'll have a joyful night, my love, upon the banks of Tyne.
THE BARNARD CASTLE TRAGEDY
Young men and maidens all, a tale I will relate,
Mark well this tragedy, which happened of late,
At Barnard Castle Bridge-end, an honest man lives there,
His calling grinding corn, for which few can compare.
He had a sister dear, in whom he took delight,
And Atkinson, his man, wooed her day and night,
But he proved false hearted, with his flattering tongue,
And by fair promises, had this maid undone.
Drinking at his ease, till late into the night,
With evil companions, gambling was his delight,
His money being spent, and they would tick no more,
Then with a face of brass, he'd ask poor Bett for more.
At length he met a girl, a serving-maid in town,
Who for good ale and beer, she would pawn her gown,
And at all-fours she'd play, as to the Inn she'd go,
A fairer gamester, no man could ever know.
Tom Skelton, the ostler, at the King's Arms does dwell,
To him false Atkinson, did all his secrets tell,
He let him understand, a new love he'd got,
And with an oath he swore, she'd keep full the pot.
Then for the girl they sent, and Hardy was her name,
Who to her mistress soon, an excuse she did frame,
"Mistress I have a friend, at the Kings Arms he stays,
I wish to see him, before he goes away".
Then she met her friend, who she finds ready there,
Who takes her in his arms, "How does my only dear?"
She says, "Boys, drink about, and fear no reckonings large"
For she had pawned her smock, to defray the charge.
They did carouse, till they began to warm,
Says Skelton, "Make a match, I pray where's the harm?"
Then with a loving kiss, they straightway did agree,
But they had no money, to give the priest a fee.
So Skelton wed them there and to the bed they went,
But Atkinson had work, and to the mill he went,
He left his new wed wife, but Bet heard the tale,
She felt herself deceived, she grew so wan and pale.
She fell into a trance, and her brother came around,
Raised her from where she lay, so helpless on the ground,
Then blood came from her mouth, as the friends they cried,
Twas from a broken heart, this poor maid she died.
Aa then had a look at the tups and the hogs,
The horses, the cows, the fat pigs and the dogs,
And aal ower the showfield Aa went to and fro,
Determined to miss nowt at the Bellingham Show.
Aa was hevin' a look at the butter and eggs,
And sat doon on some boxes te ease me aad legs,
Up come a fine lady, fat, fourty and slow,
Contented and jolly at Bellingham Show.
"Excuse me", says she, "But I do hate mistakes,
Now which are the duck eggs and which are the drakes?
I just have been wondering and I thought you might know,
There's intelligent people at Bellingham Show."
"Aa can tell ye that mistress, it's quite plain to be seen,
The duck eggs is white and the drake eggs is green".
"Oh, How simple!", she cried, "And how wise one may grow,
By making enquiries at Bellingham Show."
Aa stepped up tiv a chap that was shaved te the lips,
Says Aa, "Canny man, three penn'orth o' chips",
He cursed and he sent iss to the regions below,
He was a motor car driver at Bellingham Show.
"Excuse me, cries Aa, but Aa doubt Aa am green,
Aa thowt ye were minding, a fried chip machine!"
"Why no man, that's a motor, belangin' Lord So-and-so,
And we're here for a day at the Bellingham Show."
So Aa dodged away roond by the edge of the crowd,
And Aa smoked me aad pipe in a nice happy mood,
When up come a young queen, and cries oot,"Uncle Joe!
Aa'm glad te have met ye at Bellingham Show!"
THE BELLINGHAM SHOW
Aa'm just an aad herd and Aa live far oot bye,
Aa seldom see owt but the sheep the kye,
So Aa says te wor Betsy, Aa think Aa will go
To hev a bit look at the Bellingham Show.
A' weel, says the aad wife, if the money's te spare,
Ne doubt it's a lang time since ye hev been there,
Wor pack lambs hev selt weel, they've a lang time been low,
So Aa think ye might gan te the Bellingham Show.
So Aa gets mesel' dressed in me braw Sunday clathes,
And me brass nebbed shoon polished black as twee slaes,
A big stand-up collar and me tie in a bow.
Aa looked quite a masher at the Bellingham Show.
Well aw got te the show ground and managed first rate,
And paid me bit shillin' to get in at the gate,
Aw met wi' some aad friends who cried out,"Hello!
Hes thou really gettin' te the Bellingham Show?".
Aa was feeling gey dry, so in we all went,
Just to hev a wee drop and a crack in the tent,
Aa said mine was a half, but the others all cried. "No!
There's te be ne half -glasses at the Bellingham Show".
Well we aal hed a glass, or it might hev been twee,
Or te tell ye the real truth we mebbies had three,
The wee drop that we go, set wer hearts in a glow,
As we talked ower aad times at the Bellingham Show.
Aa got me eye on a chap that was sellin' half-croons,
Naebody wad buy them, but Aa thowt they were cloons,
The folks aal did laugh as they stood in a row,
When Aa bought three for twee shillin's at Bellingham Show.
She flung her arms roond me neck, and give iss a kiss,
And oh! Tiv an aad man ne doubt it was bliss,
But Aa wasn't her uncle, and Aa telt her stright so,
A mistake she was makin' at Bellingham Show.
She gave a bit scream and Aa thowt she wad faint,
But Aa sometimes jalouse that the women folks paint,
"Oh! Excuse me", says she "And your pardon bestow,
Mistakes sometimes happen at Bellingham Show".
"It's aall reet hinny, it's aall reet", Aa did cry,
While Aa stooped doon a minute, me laces te tie,
When Aa looked up again, and me eyes roond did throw,
Me relation had vanished at Bellingham Show.
Why me heart began jumpin' and Aa felt fairly spent,
So Aa thowt Aa wad hev a bit glass in the tent,
So inside Aa got, felt me pockets, and lo!
Yon fly jade had robbed iss at Bellingham Show.
Not a copper Aa'd left, not a cent did remain,
And gone were me aad specs, me watch and me chain,
The watch Aa'd bowt mesel' lang years ago,
When Aa forst courted Betsy at Bellingham Show.
Well, Aa went te the 'bobby' and telt him me tale,
And he said Aa was nowt but a silly aad fyeul,
'Twas time Aa knew better, as an aad man should know,
Not te meddle wi' the lasses at Bellingham Show.
Aa got se excited and loud Aa did yeel,
That the pollis took iss stright off te the cell,
Through the door he did send iss wi' the tip of his toe,
Sayin', "Keep thesel' quiet at Bellingham Show".
Aa got oot next mornin' and made me way hyeme,
But te wor aad wife not a thing did Aa nyeme,
She'll knaa soon enough, there'll be plenty te blow,
Aboot me misfortunes at Bellingham Show.
BESSIE STOKOE
He stood with the other young herds
At the Hiring to-day :
And I laughed and I chaffed and changed words
With every young hind of them all
As I stopped by the lollipop stall,
But never a word did he say.
He had straggly long straw-coloured hair
And a beard like a goat-
In his breeches a badly-stitched tear
That I longed, standing there in the crush,
To re-mend, as I hankered to brush
The ruddle and fluff from his coat.
But his bonnie blue eyes staring wide
Looked far beyond me,
As though on some distant fell side
His dogs were collecting the sheep,
And he anxiously watched them to keep
A young dog from running too free-
And I almost expected to hear
From the lips of the lad
A shrill whistle sing in my car,
As he eyed that green hillside, to check
The fussy black frolicking speck
From chasing the grey specks like mad. . . .
So I left them and went on my way
With a lad with black hair;
And we swung and rode round all the day
In the racket all the day long.
But I never forgot in the throng
The lad with the far-away stare.
The jimmy-smart groom at my side
Had twinkling black eyes;
But the grin on his mouth was too wide,
And his hands with my hands were too free;
So I took care to slip him at tea
As he turned round to pay for the pies.
And I left him alone on the seat
With the teapot and cups,
And the two pies he'd paid for to eat.
If he happens to think of the cause,
It may teach him to keep his red paws
For the handling of horses and pups.
But alone in the rain and the dark,
As I made for the farm,
I halted a moment to hark
To the sound of a shepherd's long stride,
And the shy lad stepped up to my side
And I felt his arm link through my arm.
BESSY IN MASK
Me name it is North-country Bessy
Aa live near the great Roman Wall
You see that Aa'm funny and dressy
And Aa'll have a word at you all
Aa think while Aa look in yer faces
And see ye withoot bein' seen
This sayin' holds good in most cases
A new besom always sweeps clean
What sweeping through life in all stations!
And many not pleas'd with their broom
But neighbours, now have a bit patience
Aa'll mek a grand sweep of the room.
With faults Aa won't give too much blame
But some have failin's that's plain
And many are rul'd by that sayin'
And now for a word at ye lasses
When sweethearts begin for te wane
And go somewhere else wi' caresses
How it causes ye heartache and pain
But there's always fresh fish in the ocean
(Perhaps you may guess what I mean)
I would let them see to their faces
A new besom always sweeps clean.
Now young men you come in your places
(A word is enough to the wise)
When lasses will make frowning faces
And seem in their hearts ye despise
Just tek a new look at yer manners
At courtin' when you're gettin' keen
Be mair like a man than a cuddy,
A new besom sweeps clean
Te the Farmers that's got in their harvest,
May the thatch on yer ricks and yer farm,
Stand the lang caad wintry weather,
Wi' ye and yer hinds snug and warm;
But mind when yer ploughin' the acres,
As autumn steals ower the scene,
Te toast tae the Brewers and Bakers,
And now me good lads and fine lassses,
Aa think it's a very good play,
Te sweep the 'Geordies' that passes,
Te serve for a cold rainy day.
Come fill up the drink in yer glasses,
Here's health te the reapers of grain;
In sunshine make hay lads and lasses,
And sweep clean wi' yer besoms again.
BILLY BOY
Where hev ye been aal the day, Billy Boy, Billy Boy,
Where hev ye been aal the day, me Billy Boy,
Aa've been courtin' all the day, wi' me charmin' Nancy Gray,
And me Nancy tickled/kittled me fancy, oh! me charmin' Billy Boy.
Is she fit te be yer wife, etc.
She's as fit te be me knife,
As the fork is te the knife, etc.
Can she cook a bit o' steak, etc.
She can cook a bit o' steak,
Aye, and make a girdle cake, etc.
Can she cook a taty (Irish) stew, etc.
She can cook a taty (Irish) stew,
Aye, and grand leek puddins (singin' hinnies) too, etc.
Can she cook an apple pie, etc.
She can cook an apple pie,
In the twinklin' of an eye, etc.
Did ye take her for a ride, etc.
Aye, Aa took her for a ride,
She sat doon by me side, etc.
Does she lie close unto ye, etc.
She lies close unto me,
As the bark is te the tree, etc.
BILLY OLIVER'S RAMBLE
My name is Billy Oliver, in Benwell town aa dwell;
And Aa's a clever chap, Aa's sure, though Aa de say't mesel'.
CHORUS; Oh what a clever lad am Aa, am Aa,
Oh what a clever lad am Aa!
There's not a lad in aall wor work, can put or hew like me;
Nor not a lad in Benwell toon, can coax the lasses se.
When Aa gans te Newcassel toon, Aa meks mesel' se fine,
Wor neighbours stand and stare at me, and say, " Hey, what a shine!
An' then Aa walks wi' such an air, that, if the folks have eyes,
They always think it's some greet man, that's coming in disguise.
And when Aa gans doon Westgate Street, and alang by Denton Chare,
Aa whistles aall the way Aa gans, te mek the lassies stare.
And then Aa gans inte the Cock, calls for a pint o' beer ;
And when the lassie comes in wi't, Aa always says, "My dear!"
An' when Aa gets a pint o' beer, Aa always sings a sang;
For Aa've a nice yen Aa can sing, six an' thirty vorses lang.
And if the folks that's in the house cry, " Haad yer tongue, ye cull"
Aa's sure to have a fight wi' them, for Aa's strang as any bull.
And when Aa've had a drink or twee, and fairly useless grown;
Aa'm back, as drunk as Aa can be, te canny Benwell toon.
THE BLACK BOTTLE.
Noo aa'll tell ye a tale aboot a pub that a knaa
Of a Sunday neet they wad aal come,
They'd stand at the bar with a glass in thor hand,
But it wadn't be best beer nor rum,
For the evils of drink nivvor left such a trail
For a man who waad stick tiv his gill
They'd hang on te the bar with the room gannin' roond
Of the Black Bottle they've hed thor fill.
Noo they'd come oot on Sundays for te celebrate,
For thor wives they'd find any excuse,
It was usually Monday afore they'd gettin supped up,
And they'd gan hyem te caal for a truce,
Mind thor was yen occasion that Aa can recall,
When the landlady looked kind o' glum,
She telt them they'd supped it and there was nae mair,
"Aa'm afraid the Black Bottle it's done."
"Well, Aa'm glad that it's done" shooted lang Matty Reed,
Te the cheps that was stood by his side,
"If the wife comes for me Aa'll be ready te gan,
Instead of walking noo Aa'll get a ride,
There's many a morning upon Haydon Fell,
With a bad heedache that's been nae fun,
Aye, there's many a time Aa've said "Nivvor again",
So Aa'm glad the Black Bottle it's done".
Noo Isabel she thinks hor husband's left hyeme,
He sees more of the barmaid than hor,
But she'll get quite a shock at eleven o'clock,
When Ozzie comes in through the door!
She'll think that he's gannin' wrang of his mind,
But she'll knaa when she asks him, "How come?"
And he tells hor that Betty's selt aal that she had,
Aye, and now the Black Bottle it's done".
"Well Aa'm glad that it's done for the sake of me wife,
If thor's nae drink Aa'll gan hyeme instead,
And you'll see much more of iss" he said to Eileen,
As she tucked Jasper up in his bed.
"O' the morn aa'll be ready te give of me best,
Without drink the farm work'Il be done,
And them two sons of mine they can lie in and rest,
They'll be glad the Black Bottle it's done."
Now Maurice the barman he was of two minds,
Aboot lettin' folk gan afore time,
'Cos he'll mek nae mair profit if they gan hyeme soon,
But he'll get tiv his pit work on time.
As he sang sweet love songs te Betty his wife,
And she made eyes that promised much fun,
He said "Gan upstairs pet, aa'll be with ye soon",
Noo he's glad the Black Bottle it's done.
Mind there's always yen link in the chain that is weak,
And though aal thor intentions were good,
And most of the cheps hev noo mended thor ways,
Alone at the bar one man stood.
He looked at his glass, it was empty and sad,
He said "I'll not leave this public house!"
And then Jackie Robson said them famous words,
"If the Black Bottle's done, Aa'll hev Grouse!"
THE BLANCHLAND TUP
Now I went to Blanchland Fair,
A tup hogg for to buy,
It was the finest ram sale,
That ever my eyes did spy.
Chorus; And it's true, lads, it's true, lads,
Aa've nivver been knaan te lie,
And if you'd hev been at Blanchland,
Ye'd seen the same as I.
That ram was fat behind, lads,
That ram was fat before,
That ram was ten feet high, lads,
Or mebbies even more!*
For the horns that grew on that animal's head,
They grew tremendous high,
The eagles built their nest upon,
I heard the young'ns cry.
And the legs that grew on that animal's body,
They grew tremendous square,
For every time he stretched himself,
He covered a yacre or mair.
The tail upon this ram, lads,
It reached right down to hell,
And every time he waggled it,
It rang the Devil's bell.
Now the men that fed this ram, lads,
He fed him twice a day,
And each time that he fed him,
He ate a rick of hay.
And if you don't believe my tale,
Just go te Blanchland fair,
And ask te see their giant tup,
'Cos they're bigger liars there!
THE BLAYDON RACES
Aa went te Blaydon Races, 'twas on the ninth of June,
Eighteen hundred and sixty two, on a summer's afternoon,
We took the bus from Balmbara's and she was heavy laden,
Away we went along Collingwood Street, that's on the road te Blaydon.
Oh, lads, ye should of seen us gannin';
Passin' the folks along the road, just as they were stannin'
Aall the lads and lasses there, aall wi' smilin' faces,
Gannin' alang the Scotswood Road, te see the Blaydon Races.
We flew past Armstrong's Factory, and up te the "Robin Adair",
Just gannin' doon past the Railway bridge, the bus wheel flew off there,
The lasses lost their crinolines, and veils that hide their faces,
Aa got two black eyes and a brokken nose, gannin' te Blaydon Races.
Now when we got the wheel put on, away we went again,
And them that had their noses broke, they came back ower hyeme,
Some went te the dispensary, and some te Doctor Gibbs's,
And some te the Infirmary, te mend their broken ribs's.
Now when we got te Paradise, there was bonny gam' begun,
There was fower and twenty on the bus, man how they danced and sung,
They called on me te sing a song, Aa sang them "Paddy Fagan"
Aa danced a jig and Aa swung me twig, the day Aa went te Blaydon.
We flew across the chine bridge, reet inte' Blaydon Toon,
The bellman he was caallin' there, they caalled him Jacky Broon,
He was taalkin' te some chaps and them he was persuadin'
Te gan te see Geordie Ridley's Show in the Mechanic's Hall at Blaydon.
The rain it poured doon aall the day, it made the ground quite muddy,
Coffee Johnny had a white hat on, they yelled, "Whe stole the cuddy"
There was spice stalls and monkey shows and owld wives sellin' cider,
And a chap wi' a happney roondaboot, shootin " Now me lads for riders".
BLOW THE MAN DOWN
Oh, blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down,
Te me way , hey, blow the man down,(Chorus)
Oh, blow the man down, bullies, blow him away,
Oh, gimme some time to blow the man down (Chorus)
We went over the bar on the thirteenth of May.(Ch)
The Galloper jumped and the gale came away.(Ch)
Oh, the rags they was gone and the chains they was jammed,(Ch)
And the skipper sez he, "Let the weather be hanged".(Ch)
As I was a-walkin' down Winchester Street,(Ch)
A saucy young damsel I happened te meet.(Ch)
I sez to her, "Polly, and how de ye do?" (Ch)
Sez she, "None the better for seein' of you".(Ch)
Oh, its sailors is tinkers, and tinkers is men.(Ch)
And we're all of us coming te see you again (Ch)
So we'll blow the man up, and we'll blow the man down.(Ch)
And we'll blow him away into Liverpool Town.
BLOW THE WIND SOUTHERLY
Blow the wind southerly, southerly, southerly,
Blow the wind south o'er the bonny blue sea;
Blow, bonny breeze, my lover to me.
They told me last night there were ships in the offing,
And I hurried me down to the deep rolling sea;
But my eye could not see it, wherever might be it,
The bark that is bearing my lover to me.
Blow the wind south, that my lover may come;
Blow, bonny breeze, and bring him safe home.
I stood by the lighthouse the last time we parted,
Till darkness came down o'er the deep rolling sea;
And no longer I saw the bright bark of my lover,
Blow, bonny breeze, and bring him to me.
Blow the wind southerly, southerly, southerly,.
Blow, bonny breeze, o'er the bonny blue sea;
Is it not sweet to hear the breeze singing,
As lightly it comes o'er the deep rolling sea?
But sweeter and dearer by far when 'tis bringing
The bark of my true love in safety to me.
Adapted from an earlier fragment by John Stobbs early 1800s
Printed in 'Songs and Ballads of Northern England' 1892.
He's been on the Tea run te China and India,
He's sailed the wool clippers from Van Diemen's Land,
He's been round the Horn and aall ower the South Seas,
He could gan roond the world with the wheel in his hand.
But, oh! How Aa fear when it's rainin' and stormy,
And the icebergs are floatin' in the deep Northern Sea,
And Aa pray for the day when Aa see his fine riggin'
And see the proud sails as they bring him te me.*
*By Johnny Handle 1986.(Written for 'Tall Ships' festival)
BLOW THE WINDS I-OH
There was a shepherd's son, he kept sheep on yonder hill,
He laid hid pipe and crook aside, and there he slept his fill.
And blow the winds I ho, I ho,
Sing blow the winds I ho.
Clear away the morning dew,
And blow the winds I ho.
He looked east, he looked west. He took another look,
And there he spied a lady gay, was dipping in a brook.
She said, "Sir don't touch my mantle, come let my clothes alone;
I will give you as much white money, as you can carry home.
"I will not touch your mantle, I'll let your clothes alone,
I'll take you out of the water clear, my dear, to be my own".
He set her on a milk white steed, himself upon another,
And there he rode along the road, like sister and like brother.
And when they came to her father's gate, she pulled at a ring,
And ready was the proud porter for to let the lady in.
And when the gates were opened, this lady jumped in,
She says, "You are a fool without, and I'm a maid within".