Part 62 (1/2)

Rum ti idity, &c.

Says aw, to a buck in the street, (You may guess he was drest very fine,) ”What's that thing that's painted complete?”

Says he, ”It is a Valentine.”

Says aw, ”Do ye knaw what they're for, That they are painted sae smart?”

Then he humm'd and he haw'd like a boar, And said, ”To send to your sweetheart.”

Rum ti idity, &c.

Then thinks aw to masell, aw'll hae yen, To send to my awn dearest hinny: Aw bowls into the shop like a styen, When out pops a man very skinny: Says he, ”Sir, pray what do you want?”

Says aw, ”Yen o' them things that's bonny;”

When in comes a chep that did cant, And said, ”Aw want one, my dear honey.”

Rum ti idity, &c.

That the fellow was Irish I knew, As suin as to speak he began, He luik'd at Valentines not a few, But could not find one to suit Nan: Says he, ”Mind, aw will hev the prattiest.”

Says aw, ”Ye must knaw that you shan't.”

Did he think aw'd be content wi' the dirtiest?

Ma sang! aw did both swear and rant.

Rum ti idity, &c.

When he brought me a clout o' the lug, He did it sae frisky and gaily, Says he, ”You must know, Mr. Mug, That I'm a stout bit of s.h.i.+llelah.”

Aw brought him another as tough, It made a' his cheeks for to rattle; Says he, ”I have got quite enough:”

Sae thus we gave ower the brattle.

Rum ti idity, &c.

We went to a yell-house just nigh, For to get a wee sup o' strang yell; And then we came back, by and by, And to luikin at Valentines fell.

And then got as great as could be, And bought Valentines for to fit, man: But aw say, without telling a lee, He met wiv his match in a Pitman.

Rum ti idity, &c.

THE SKIPPER IN THE MIST.

Tune--”Derry down.”

Some time since there cam on a very thick fog, In Lunnin some folks were near lost in a bog;-- A bog, you will say, that's an Irish name-- They got knee deep in mud, and that's just all the same.

Derry down, &c.

Now, during the fog, sir, a Newca.s.sel keel Was sailing down Tyne to a s.h.i.+p lying at s.h.i.+elds, The fog cam se thick, skipper off wig and roar'd-- ”Aw mun lay by my swape--Geordy, lay by yor oar!

Derry down, &c.

Now, hinnies, my marrows! come tell's what to dee, Aw's frighten'd wor keel will soon drive out to sea!”

So the men an' their skipper, each sat on his b.u.t.tock, An' a council they held, wi' their legs down the huddock.

Derry down, &c.

Says Geordy, ”We canna be very far down, With the wash o' my oar, aw hev just touch'd the grund; Cheer up, my awd skipper, put on yor awd wig, We're between the King's Meadows an' Newca.s.sel Brig!”