Читать книгу The Newcastle Song Book; or, Tyne-Side Songster - Various - Страница 26

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Lord 'Sizes leuks weel in coach shinin',

Whese wig wad let Nan's heed an' mine in;

But a bonnier seet,

Was the Leum'nation neet—

It dazzled the een o' Bob Cranky.

Aboot seven aw gov ower warkin,

Gat beard off, and put a white sark on;

For Newcasslers, thowt aw,

Giff they dinna see me braw,

Will say 'What a gowk is Bob Cranky!'

A ran to the toon without stoppin',

An' fand ilka street like a hoppin;

An' the folks stood sae thick,

Aw sair wish'd for maw pick,

To hew oot a way for Bob Cranky.

The guns then went off frae the Cassel,

Seun windors wur a' in a dazzle;

Ilka place was like day,

Aw then shouted, 'Hurray!

There's plenty an' peace for Bob Cranky!'

Sum windors had pictures sae bonny!

Wi' sma' lamps aw can't tell how mony;

Te count them, aw'm sure,

Wad bother the Viewer—

A greater Goggriffer than Cranky.

Aw see'd croons myed o' lamps blue an' reed,

Whilk aw wad na like to put on my heed!

'G. P. R.' aw see'd next,

For wor Geordy Prince Rex:—

Nyen spelt it sae weel as Bob Cranky.

Sum had anchors of leet high hung up,

To shew folk greet Bonny was deun up;

But, far as aw see, man,

As reet it wad be, man,

To leet up the pick o' Bob Cranky.

A leg of meat sed, 'Doon aw's cummin!'

But sum chep aw suen fand was hummin;

For aw stopp'd bit belaw,

Haudin oot a lang paw,

But mutton cam ne nearer Cranky.

A cask on the Vicar's pump top, man,

Markt 'Plenty an' Peace,' gard me stop, man:

Thinks aw te mesel,

Aw's here get sum yell,

But only cau'd waiter gat Cranky.

Bonny, shav'd biv a bear, was then shot, man;

And biv Auld Nick weel thump'd in a pot, man;

But aw thowt a' the toon

Shuddent lick him when doon,

Tho' he'd a greet spite to Bob Cranky.

Yen Price had the cream o' the bowl, man,

Wi' goold lamps clagg'd close cheek by jowl, man:

It was sick a fine seet,

Aw could glower'd a' neet,

Had fu' been the wame o' Bob Cranky.

Ne mair seed aw till signal gun fired,

Out went the leets, an' hyem aw gat, tired:

Nan ax'd 'bout Leum'nations,

Aw bad her hae patience,

An' first fetch sum flesh to Bob Cranky.

Aw tell'd her what news aw had heerd, man,

That shuggar was sixpence a pund, man;

An' good beef at a groat:—

Then wor Nan clear'd her throat,

An' shooted oot, 'Plenty for Cranky!'

'Twas a' lees—for when Nan gang'd te toon,

An' for yen pund a sixpence pat doon;

Frae shop she was winnin',

When Grosser, deuce bin him!

Teuk a' the cheap shuggar frae Cranky.

But gif Peace brings another gran' neet, Aw think folk shou'd hae Plenty te eat: Singin' hinnies, aw'm shoor, An' strang yell at the door, Wad better nor candles please Cranky.

Then agyen, what a shem an' a sin!

Te the Pitt dinner nyen ax'd me in:

Yet aw work like a Turk,

Byeth wi' pick, knife, an' fork—

An' whe's mair a Pittite nor Cranky.

Or what could ye a' dee without me,

When cau'd ice and snaw com aboot ye?

Then sair ye wad shiver,

For a' ye're sae cliver,

An' lang for the pick o' Bob Cranky!