Part 2 (1/2)

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 s.h.i.+els, Iv Jemmy Joneson's Whurry.

THE SKIPPER'S WEDDING.

Neighbours, I'm come for to tell ye, Our Skipper and Mall's to be wed; And if it be true what they're saying, Egad we'll be all rarely fed!

They've brought home a shoulder of mutton, Besides two thumping fat geese, And when at the fire they're roasting, We're all to have sops in the greese.

Blind w.i.l.l.y's to play on the fiddle.

And there will be pies and spice dumplings, And there will be bacon and peas; Besides a great lump of beef boiled, And they may get crowdies who please; To eat of such good things as these are, I'm shure you've but seldom the luck; Besides for to make us some pottage, There'll be a sheep's head and pluck.

Blind w.i.l.l.y's to play on the fiddle.

Of sausages there will be plenty, Black puddings, sheep fat, and neats' tripes; Besides, for to warm all your noses, Great store of tobacco and pipes.

A room, they say, there is provided For us at 'The Old Jacob's Well;'

The bridegroom he went there this morning, And spoke for a barrel o' yell.

Blind w.i.l.l.y's to play on the fiddle.

There's sure to be those things I've mention'd, And many things else; and I learn, There's white bread and b.u.t.ter and sugar, To please every bonny young bairn.

Of each dish and gla.s.s you'll be welcome To eat and to drink till you stare; I've told you what meat's to be at it, I'll next tell you who's to be there.

Blind w.i.l.l.y's to play on the fiddle.

Why there will be Peter the hangman, Who flogs the folks at the cart-tail, Au'd Bob, with his new sark and ruffle, Made out of an au'd keel sail!

And Tib on the Quay who sells oysters, Whose mother oft strove to persuade Her to keep from the lads, but she wouldn't, Until she got by them betray'd.

Blind w.i.l.l.y's to play on the fiddle.

And there will be Sandy the cobbler, Whose belly's as round as a keg, And Doll, with her short petticoats, To display her white stockings and leg; And Sall, who, when snug in a corner, A sixpence, they say, won't refuse; She curs'd when her father was drown'd, Because he had on his new shoes.

Blind w.i.l.l.y's to play on the fiddle.

And there will be Sam the quack doctor, Of skill and profession he'll crack; And Jack who would fain be a soldier, But for a great hump on his back; And Tom in the streets, for his living, Who grinds razors, scissors, and knives; And two or three merry old women, That call ”Mugs and doublers, wives!”

Blind w.i.l.l.y's to play on the fiddle.

But neighbours, I'd almost forgot, For to tell ye--exactly at one, The dinner will be on the table, The music will play till it's done: When you'll be all heartily welcome, Of this merry feast for to share; But if you won't come at this bidding, Why then you may stay where you are.

Blind w.i.l.l.y's to play on the fiddle.

THE AMPHITRITE.

Frae Team-Gut to Whitley, wi' coals black and brown, For the Amphitrite loaded, the keel had gyen down; But the bullies ower neet gat their gobs sae oft wet, That the nyem of the s.h.i.+p yen and a' did forget.

For to find out the nyem each bother'd his chops, And claw'd at his rump fit to murder the lops,-- When the Skipper, wha's guts was beginning to gripe, Said the paw hoggish luggish was caw'd Empty Kyte.

Frae the Gut to the Point a' the time driving slow, The bullies kept blairing, 'The Empty Kyte, ho!'