Читать книгу The Newcastle Song Book; or, Tyne-Side Songster - Various - Страница 19

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My nyem is Willy Dixon,

A Coachmaker to my trade;

And when aw see a Pitman come,

Aw run—because aw's flaid.

Sic an a cliver chep am aw, am aw, am aw.

Sic an a cliver chep am aw.

On Pay-day neets aw gan to the Cock,

When the Pitmen's aw gyen hyem,

Then aw begins to rair and sing,

And myek o' them a gyem.

Sic an a cliver chep am aw.

Ou Sunday mornings, then, you see,

Aw dress mesel se fine;

And wi' me white drill pantaloons,

Aw cuts a fearful shine.

Sic an a cliver chep am aw.

Then what a swagger aw dis cut,

As aw gan alang the street,

But aw's myed se like nut-crackers,

That maw nose and chin they meet.

Sic an a cliver chep am aw.

Then when aw gans to see the lass,

It's in the afternoon;

An' then we gans a wauking,

Wi' her fine lustre goon.

Sic an a cliver chep am aw.

And as we gan through Jesmond fields,

The lasses gyep and luick,

And efter we get past them a',

They cry, 'Ah! what a buck!'

Sic an a cliver chep am aw.

Then efter wandering up and down,

At neet we toddle hyem;

And aw gies her a kiss, you see,

And she cries, 'Fie for shem!'

Sic an a cliver chep am aw.

Then aw seeks out my au'd wark claes,

Gets on another sark;

And on Monday morn, at six o'clock,

Gans whisslin off to wark.

Sic an a cliver chep am aw.