Читать книгу The Newcastle Song Book; or, Tyne-Side Songster - Various - Страница 10

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The cavers biv the chimlay reek,

Begox! its all a horney;

For thro' the world aw thowt to keek,

Yen day when aw was corney:

Sae, wiv some varry canny chiels,

All on the hop and murry,

Aw thowt aw'd myek a voyge to Shiels,

Iv Jemmy Joneson's Whurry.

Ye niver see'd the church sae scrudg'd,

As we were there thegither;

An' gentle, simple, throughways rudg'd,

Like burdies of a feather:

Blind Willie, a' wor joys to croon,

Struck up a hey down derry,

An' crouse we left wor canny toon,

Iv Jemmy Joneson's Whurry.

As we push'd off, loak! a' the Key

To me seem'd shuggy-shooin;

An' tho' aw'd niver been at sea,

Aw stuid her like a new-on.

An' when the Malls began their reels,

Aw kick'd maw heels reet murry;

For faix! aw lik'd the voyage to Shiels,

Iv Jemmy Joneson's Whurry.

Quick went wor heels, quick went the oars,

An' where me eyes wur cassin,

It seem'd as if the bizzy shore

Cheer'd canny Tyne i' passin.

What! hes Newcassel now nae end?

Thinks aw it's wond'rous vurry;

Aw thowt I'd like me life to spend

Iv Jemmy Joneson's Whurry.

Tyneside seem'd clad wiv bonny ha's,

An' furnaces sae dunny;

Wey this mun be what Bible ca's,

'The land of milk and honey!'

If a' thor things belang'd tiv me,

Aw'd myek the poor reet murry,

An' gar each heart to sing wiv glee,

Iv Jemmy Joneson's Whurry.

Then on we went, as nice as ouse,

Till nenst au'd Lizzy Moody's;

A whirlwind cam an' myed a' souse,

Like heaps o' babby boodies.

The heykin myed me vurry wauf,

Me heed turn'd duzzy, vurry;

Me leuks, aw'm shure, wad spyen'd a cauf,

Iv Jemmy Joneson's Whurry.

For hyem and bairns, an' maw wife Nan,

Aw yool'd out like a lubbart;

An' when aw thought we a' shud gan

To Davy Jones's cubbart,

The wind bee-baw'd, aw whish'd me squeels,

An' yence mair aw was murry,

For seun we gat a seet o' Shiels,

Frev Jemmy Joneson's Whurry.

Wor Geordies now we thrimmel'd out,

An' tread a' Shiels sae dinny;

Maw faix! it seems a canny sprout,

As big maist as its minny:

Aw smack'd thir yell, aw climb'd thir bree,

The seet was wond'rous, vurry;

Aw lowp'd sic gallant ships to see,

Biv Jemmy Joneson's Whurry.

To Tynemouth then aw thowt aw'd trudge,

To see the folks a' duckin;

Loak! men an' wives together pludg'd,

While hundreds stuid by leukin.

Amang the rest aw cowp'd me creels,

Eh, gox! 'twas funny, vurry:

An' so aw end me voyage to Shiels,

Iv Jemmy Joneson's Whurry.