Читать книгу The Newcastle Song Book; or, Tyne-Side Songster - Various - Страница 5

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'Bout Lunnun aw'd heard ay sic wonderful spokes,

That the streets were a cover'd wi' guineas:

The houses sae fine, an' sic grandees the folks,

Te them huz i' the North were but ninnies.

But aw fand mawsel blonk'd when to Lunnun aw gat,

The folks they a' luik'd wishey washey;

For gowd ye may howk till ye're blind as a bat,

For their streets are like wors—brave and blashy!

'Bout Lunnun then divent ye myek sic a rout,

There's nowse there maw winkers to dazzle:

For a' the fine things ye are gobbin about,

We can marra iv Canny Newcassel.

A Cockney chep show'd me the Thames druvy fyace,

Whilk he said was the pride o' the nation;

And thowt at their shippin aw'd myek a haze-gaze;

But aw whopt maw foot on his noration.

Wi' huz, mun, three hundred ships sail iv a tide,

We think nowse on't, aw'll myek accydavy;

Ye're a gowk if ye din't knaw that the lads o' Tyneside

Are the Jacks that myek famish wor navy.

'Bout Lunnun, &c.

We went big St. Paul's and Westminster to see,

And aw war'nt ye aw thought they luick'd pritty:

And then we'd a keek at the Monument te;

Whilk maw friend ca'd the Pearl o' the City.

Wey hinny, says aw, we've a Shot Tower sae hee,

That biv it ye might scraffle to heaven;

And if on Saint Nicholas ye once cus an e'e,

Ye'd crack on't as lang as ye're livin.

'Bout Lunnun, &c.

We trudg'd to St. James's, for there the King leaves,

Aw war'nt ye a good stare we teuk on't;

By my faicks! it's been built up by Adam's awn neaves,

For it's and as the hills, by the luik on't.

Shem bin ye! says aw, ye should keep the King douse,

Aw speak it without ony malice:

Aw own that wor Mayor rather wants a new house,

But then—wor Infirm'ry's a palace.

'Bout Lunnun, &c.

Ah hinnies! out com the King, while we were there,

His leuks seem'd to say, Bairns, be happy!

Sae down o' my hunkers aw set up a blare,

For God to preserve him frae Nappy:

For Geordy aw'd dee—for my loyalty's trig,

And aw own he's a good leuken mannie;

But if wor Sir Matthew ye buss iv his wig,

By gocks! he wad leuk just as canny.

'Bout Lunnun, &c.

Ah hinnies! about us the lasses did lowp,

Thick as cur'ns in a spice singin hinnie;

Some aud and some hardly fligg'd ower the dowp,

But aw kend what they were by their whinnie:

Ah! mannie, says aw, ye hev mony a tight girl,

But aw'm tell'd they're oft het i' their tappin:

Aw'd cuddle much rather a lass i' the Sworl,

Than the dolls i' the Strand, or i' Wappin.

'Bout Lunnun, &c.

Wiv a' the stravaigin aw wanted a munch,

An' maw thropple was ready to gizen;

So we went tiv a yell-house, and there teuk a lunch,

But the reck'ning, me saul, was a bizon.

Wiv huz i' the North, when aw'm wairsh i' my way,

(But t' knaw wor warm hearts ye yur-sel come)

Aw lift the first latch, and baith man and dame say,

'Cruick your hough, canny man, for ye're welcome!

'Bout Lunnun, &c.

A shilling aw thought at the Play-house aw'd ware,

But aw jump'd there wiv heuk finger'd people;

Me pockets gat ripe'd, an' heerd them na mair

Nor aw cou'd frae Saint Nicholas's steeple.

Dang Lunnun! wor Play-house aw like just as weel,

And wor play-folks aw's sure are as funny;

A shillin's worth sarves me to laugh till aw squeel,

Nae hallion there thrimmels maw money.

'Bout Lunnun, &c.

The loss o' the cotterels aw dinna regaird,

For aw've gettin some white-heft at Lunnun;

Aw've learn'd to prefer me awn canny calf-yaird;

If ye catch me mair frae't ye'll be cunnun.

Aw knaw that the cockneys crack rum-gum-shus chimes

To myek gam of wor bur and wor 'parel;

But honest Blind Willey shall string this iv rhymes,

And we'll sing'd for a Chrissenmas Carol.

'Bout Lunnun, &c.