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Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson

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*#1 PEASANT* 24 May 17 - 10:52 PM
*#1 PEASANT* 24 May 17 - 04:41 PM
*#1 PEASANT* 24 May 17 - 03:13 PM
*#1 PEASANT* 24 May 17 - 02:33 PM
*#1 PEASANT* 23 May 17 - 11:20 PM
*#1 PEASANT* 23 May 17 - 09:24 PM
*#1 PEASANT* 23 May 17 - 07:51 PM
*#1 PEASANT* 23 May 17 - 07:40 PM
*#1 PEASANT* 23 May 17 - 05:55 PM
*#1 PEASANT* 23 May 17 - 05:30 PM
*#1 PEASANT* 23 May 17 - 05:19 PM
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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 24 May 17 - 10:52 PM

GEORDEY'S FOND 0' RUM!

TEUN·-"Mally Dunn."

"WOR Geordey wes a canny man,
A canny man te me;
Me life weslike a happy dream,"
In grief, says Nan McGee.
"Aw blist the day that we got wed,
Such happiness had cum;
But now aw cannet praised ne mair
For Geordey's fond 0' rum !

Korus

"Them happy days is passed away,
Aw doot they'll ne mar cum;
Aw hope they may; but hoo can they,
When Geordey's fond 0' rum?

"His gud lucks won me willin heart,
His smile wes honey's sel ;
But oh, his tung had mair effect
Then awheh wordste tell
But noo his bonny fyece is changed,
Its culler's noo becum
A dirty, half-weshed kind 0' reed,
Throo drinkin se much rum !

"Insteed 0' talkin kind te me,
Whenivor he cums in,
He staggers tiv his aud airrn-chair,
Then argyin he'l! begin.
He thinks the room chock full 0' foaks,
Aw stand quite mute an' dumb;
He calls for' Order!' talks away,
Then shoots for sum mair rum!

"Aw've seen him fightin wi' the chair
Becawse it waddent speak;
He'd say aw knew ne greet M.P.'s,
Me knollidge wes se weak.
Politicks aw knew nowt aboot,
As chairman aw wes numb;
He teuk us for sum chep he knew,
Throo gettin se much rum.

"He'll jump oat ov his bed at neets,
An' sweer he sees a ghost;
An' mony a time he'll lector
Te the [ower-pole bed-post.
Next mornin, when he wakens up,
Doon stairs he'll wretched cum,
Sayin, 'Nan, aw've been a feullast neet,
Throo gettin se much rum !'

"He'll haud his heed as if 'twad burst,
Aw myek him a sup tea,
An' try te cheer him wi' me words;
But still it winnet de.
For oh, aw luv me husband weel,
An' hope the day 'ill cum,
When we'll be happy as before
He ivor tyested rum! "

The above can also be used as a Recitation.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 24 May 17 - 04:41 PM

l' THE WORKHOOSE

TEUN-"On the Ropery Banks."

Aw once wes byeth stiddy an' clivor,
"A real handy chep!" they wad say;
At owt aw cud myek me-sel useful,
Aw nivvor wes off wark a day.
Aw sarved me time oot as a fitter,
But nivvor wes tied te me trade;
At neets awwes just like a joiner,
Byeth tyebles an' chairs, tee, aw made.

Korus

But noo aw'm byeth helpless an' useless,
Not worthy 0' one word 0' praise;
Throo driukiu aw's browt te the workhoose,
An' here aw mun finish me days.

Aw wes nimble; aw once wes a runner,
As sharp as cud be on me feet;
An' mony a crack aw've astonished
Aw nivvor wes knawn te be beat.
At wrestlin aw wessent a bad un,
Wi' confidence, strang as a bull;
I' public-hoose rows aw wes champein,
Nyen had a chance when aw wes full.

Aw wes happy if aw wes but busy,
Nowt iver com rang i' me way;
Te keep me hands gawn wes a plissure,
Not always porticklor te pay.
Aw'd mend me awn shoes, coat, an' troosers,
Byeth cobbler an' tailor wes aw ;
Or build a pig-sty for me neybors,
An' kill the pigs, tee, ye mun knaw.

Insteed ov us workin for payment,
Aw always felt happy at neet
If they teuk us intiv a beer-boose,
A few glasses myed it a' reet.
Aw liked te hear all ov them praise us,
It filled us se full 0' conceit;
Aw reckoned me-sel, i' me awn mind,
The clivorest man i' the street.
Aw got that much used wi' me glasses,

Aw always kept langin for mair,
Till eers 0' such varry hard drinkin
Teuk effect when aw wassent aware.
A stroke laid us up for life helpless,
An' put a sad end te me spree;
Withoot drink aw'd been strong an' healthy,
It's been a dear fuddle te me.

The above can also be used as a Recitation.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 24 May 17 - 03:13 PM

THE INTENDED SUICIDES.

TEUN-" The Pawnshop Bleezin."

TOM JACKSON an' his wife fell oot,
Byeth drunk an' got mischievous;
Says he, one neet, "Aw'll end me life,
An' that 'ill seun relieve us
Frae such a bitter plague as ye.
Ye've not been a gud wife te me,
This neet aw'll te the river flee,
An' i' the wetter cawd aw'll dee,
Aw'm once for all detarmined!"

Says she, "If ye intend te gan,
Aw'll de the syem as ye, man;
Aw cuddent leeve here be rne-ael,
Unhappy aw wad be, man.
Ye've always been me care an' pride,
Aw'm lost withoot ye be me side.
Aw've travelled wi' ye far an' wide;
So aw'll gan doon when it's high tide,
An' droon me-sel wi' ye, man!"

Says he, "Ye needint gan wi' me,
Ye'll stop us if yor there, lass;
If ye had been a sober wife,
Aw'd nivvor need te care, lass,
Aw'd let melife run oot its span,
But noo aw'll te destruction gan!"
Says she, "If ye had been a man
That myed a stiddy life yor plan,
"Twad nivvor com te this, man ; "

At neet he slawlybent his way,
Till close beside the river,
He teuk his coat an' waistkit off.
Says he, "It's noo or nivvor!"
When all at once he heard a shriek;
He luckt aroond-he cuddent speak;
When on the surface 0' the deep
He saw a form-he teuk a leap,
For Tom wes a gud swimmer.

He bravely swam te save the life
Ov sum unhappy creetor,
An' be the meunleet there he saw
His wife in ivry feator.
He pull'd her safely te the shore,
Then on his back her body bore,
Until he reached thor awn hoose door,
An' then he laid her on the floor,
Te bring her tiv her senses.

She moaned an' cried when she com roond,
But Tom had nivvor spoken;
Thor freak had gien them byeth a fright,
Her heart wes nearly broken.
But efter this they had sum tea,
Injoyed it better then a spree,
Myed up thor minds T.T. te be; .
An', prizin life, they byeth agree
Ne suicides te be, man.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 24 May 17 - 02:33 PM

TEETOTAL NOO!

TEUN- "The Cure."

Iv a' the" cures " that's in the world
Thor's one that's stud the test,
An' seun 'ill be established as
The safest an' the best:
That's abstinence frae alchohol!
It cheers the heart a' throo
Te hear anuther member's myed,
An' he's teetotal noo.

Korus

I Teetotal noo! teetotal noo!
It cheers the heart a' throo
Te hear anuther member's myed,
An' he's teetotal noo.

Aw'll tell ye a few cures it's myed:
Bill Thorn wes varry bad,
He thowt that he wes gannin fast
Says aw, "Maw canny lad,
Just pitch up drinkin what ye de,
Or else ne mair ye'll hew!"
He did, an' noo he's stoot an' strang,
For he's teetotal noo.

Tom Rolly's hilth wes leavin him,
He got that dreadful weak;
When weel, he wes a noisy chep,
Wi' such a lot d cheek:
But noo he's stiddy, weel-behaved,
He's bid the beer adieu!
Just ask him, he knaws which is best,
For he's teetotal noo.

Ned Whalley's temper wes the warst
Ov any i' the street;
He used te hit an' kick his wife
He nigh killed her one neet:
But noo thor just as happy, an'
Glad smiles leet up each broo;
The reason 0' this wondrous change
Is, he's teetotal noo.

Jack Bruce wes thowt a hopeless case,
Myest always bad an' pale;
He passed his time away frae hyem
When he wes oot 0' jail:
But noo he's got a canny job;
The gentlemen in blue
Miss Jack-he's nivvor i' thor hands,
For he's teetotal noo.

Aw nivvor saw a chep se thin
As Davey Bones once was;
Starvation, like a walkin ghost,
Wes pictor'd in his Jaws.
It teuk a while te get him roond,
At last heTiilthy grew;
An' lately he's mair like a man,
For he's teetotal noo.

But, bliss ye! aw might sing a' neet,
An' subjects nivvor cease,
Te prove hoo mony lives 0' war's
Been alter'd inte peace.
The happy change, the gladnin change,
Shud always get its due,
Convartin drunken men te say
That they're teetotal noo.
The above can also be used as a Recitation.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 23 May 17 - 11:20 PM

I'M ALWAYS DRY !


TEUN- "Trab, Trab,"

Aw cud welcum ivry mornin
Wiv a heart byeth leet an' gay,
An' the sun agyen returnin
Te myek bright anuther day;
But aw de nowt else but sigh,
For aw feel se awful dry!
Dry, dry, dry, dry,
Aw'm always dry:
Whativer can aw try?

Yis; the mornin' may be plissint,
An' the birds may sweetly sing;
But thor's not a charm, thor issent,
That can joy te maw heart bring.
When aw luck up te the sky,
Te feel better hoo aw try;

But dry, dry, dry,
Aw'malways dry:
Whativer can aw try?

Can aw not find resolution
Te dispel this dreadful thirst?
An' te save me constitution
Is thor nowt te be enforced?
Is thor nowt that aw can try?
Can sum gud frind not reply?

For dry, dry, dry,
Aw'm always dry
Whativer can aw try?

Thor's a voice heard throo the nation,
An' it whispers, "Stop, gud frind !
If ye keep frae dissipation,
What a greet relief ye'll find.
An' ye'll bliss us by-an'-by,
If ye'll only just comply.

Then try, try, try:
Ye'Il not be dry,
If Temperance ye'Il try!"

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 23 May 17 - 09:24 PM

ON THE BEER!

TEUN- "Terence's Farewell."

JACK BARKLEY'S thick-heeded an' lazy,
He lounges aboot like a feul ;
Unshaven an' dorty, he'll deave ye
As seun as he iver gets full.
He'll sing an' he'Il shoot like a madman,
His fav'rit's wee! knawn, "Cheer, Boys, Cheer!"
An' he'll blair wiv a fyece sentimental;
He's noisy, not lively, wi' beer.

Wild Bob gans aboot foaks insultin,
Ye'd think at the world he'd a spite;
He'll dunch agyen foaks that he passes,
An' try an' provoke them te fight.
He likes te fall oot wi' the pollis,
His eyes frae the black's seldum clear;
In fact, he's a black altegither,
Nivvor safe when he gans on the beer.

Lang Polly gans daft when she's drinkin,
Neglectin her gud-man an' bairns;
She'll sit dayan' neet when she tipples
Alang wiv her neybor, Doll Cairns.
DoIl laffs at owt-screams like a nidiot,
Poll cries wiv a crokidile's tear;
Thor a nice-luckin sample 0' wimmen
These two, when they get on the beer!

Ruff Bill thinks but nowt aboot smashin
Whativer may cum iv his way;
He threw a glass plate at his wife, an'
It struck thor poor bairn as it lay.
They've tyekin Bill off te the station;
He threatens that, when he gets clear,
He'll myek his poor wife sairly suffer;
He's a miscreant maddened wi' beer.

They may sing silly sangs iv its praises,
An' butter the Scotch an' the Mild;
But where is its qualities precious?
It myeks men unsettled an' wild.
Thor a' better, far better, withoot it,
Throo the world they can steadily steer,
With a heed byeth cool, firm, an' collected,
Withoot thor brains muddled wi' beer.
The above can also be used as a Recitation.


-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 23 May 17 - 07:51 PM

MURDER THROO DRINK: THE GALLOWS
RECITATION

THEY'VE teun him off te the Station noo,
Sumbody said that they always knew
'Twad end like this; for the fearful strife
Wad only end i' the loss ov a life,
An' that wad be i' the life ov the wife.

"Murder!" wes whispered in ivry breeth.
A poor aud wummin wes kicked te deeth
Ay, kicked te deeth wivher man's greet feet
In hob-nail beuts, that he wore i' the street.
An' sumbody said that it sarved her reet.

Sumbody always hes sumthing te say.
Aw heard they'd been drinkin mony a day
Ay, mony 11 day an' many a year,
Till the wummin had lost a' sense 0' fear,
An' nivvor thowt that her end wes near.

But ivry life mun cum tiv an end,
The seuner wi' drinkin, ye may depend;
The seuner wi' drink, for it's murder's mate,
For it fills the breest wi' passion an' hate,
That the hangman nivvor hes lang te Walt.

The prisoner sits iv his gloomy cell,
An' hears for his-sel the funeral bell.
But sumbody says that they owt te see
The murderer hung on the gallows tree;
It's a shem that it shud se private be.

Oh, but sumbody here shud stop an' think
Ov the evil deun throo the evil drink.
For it's murder here, an' it's murder there,
It's murder throo drink myest ivrywhere,
An' the gallows is varry seldom bare.

Keep clear 0' the drink for yor lives, aw say;
Keep't oot 0' yor awn an' yor bairns' way,
Tho sumbody says it'll de ye gud;
But it nivvor will, nor it nivvor cud;
It corrupts the mind, the body, an' blud.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 23 May 17 - 07:40 PM

SEEIN DOUBLE

TEUN- "Sally Lee."

ONE day aw got me portrait teun,
When aw wes on the spree;
Aw went an' showed it te me wife,
Says she, "It's just like ye !"
Aw lafft an' felt pleased that it wes,
Says aw, "That's varry true! "
But when aw luckt intiv its fyece,
I cud swore thor wes two.

Korus

Two-fowld eyesight's anything but spree;
Two heeds, fower airms, two foaks for one te see.
Thor's sum may think it's funny,
But aw'Il not bed, indeed;
For wben a cbep sees double, whey,
He's nearly oot his heed.

Says aw, "Thor's two heeds on me neck
Upon this pictor here! "
Says she, "Man, ye see double, for
Ye've been upon the beer! "
"See double! de ye think aw's drunk,"
Says aw," maw canny lass! "
Aw luckt agyen, but still aw saw
Two heeds upon the glass.

Aw luckt up te maw bonny wife,
Says aw, "Maw darlin Bell!"
When aw saw she had two fyeces
Byeth laflin like her-sel.
Says aw, "Hev aw got two wives here?"
Says she, "Don't be an ass! "
Aw turned maw heed, an' saw me fyece
Twice i' the luckin-glass.

Aw saw two fiddles hanging up,
Aw knew aw just had one;
Thinks aw, aw'd better heh them doon;
Aw'll try the uther's tone.
Aw got on what aw thowt two chairs,
Te reach them frae the wall,
Aw fund aw'd just one i' me hand,
An' not let either fall.

Aw saw two tyebles on the floor ;
Six chairs, tho we'd but three;
Two kettles singin on the hob,
An' fower cups 0' tea.
Aw saw me two wives suppin theirs,
Says aw, "Hoo de ye de?
Aw diddent knaw my wife wes twins
Yor welcum byeth te me !"

Aw sat there fairly mesmerised,
An' tried awake te keep;
Aw fund me senses cummin te
As aw wes gawn te sleep.
But when aw wakened up, aw went,
An', sober, signed the pledge;
Thinks aw, this seein double's close
Upon the madhoose edge.

The above may also be used as a Recitation.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 23 May 17 - 05:55 PM

TE LEEVE FOR A HUNDRID EERS!

TEUN- "Cum whoam te yor Childer and Me."

STRANGE ideas creep inte wor heeds,
Difficult ye'd think te conceive:
Yet hoo often they'll cum te amuse,
Mair often then we cud believe;
It's just two or three days since young Smith,
A frind 0' mine, laffin appears
Sayin, "What a queer world this wad be
If we allleev'd a whole hundrid eers
If we had, an' we knew that we had
Te leeve for a full hundrid eers !"

The foaks waddent care when they war ill,
They'd nivvor need docterin then,
For the young uns we'd nivvor need fear,
Bein sure they'd grow wimmen an' men;
An' we'd welcum the dear little things
Withoot ony sadness or tears,
For we'd knaw throo thor trubbles they'd pull,
An' they'd leeve for a whole hundrid eers
If they had, an' we knew that they had
Te leeve for a whole hundrid eerst

Then i' courtin we'd nivvor loss heart,
For we'd knaw thor wes plenty 0' time
Te find one, if a lot diddent suit,
An' till ninety we'd be i' wor prime;
But at fifty aw'd freely propose,
An' be seconded safe wi' greet cheers,
That nebody shud work efter that,
Let them rest for the next fiftyeers,
An' experience the real joys 0' life
Till the end 0' the whole hundrid eers.

Aw can hardly imagine what scenes
Thor wad be wi' the time drawin nigh,
Hoo sum wad kneel doon an' repent
While uthers heart-broken wad cry;
Thor wad still be sum wantin a spree,
Nivvor thinkin ov sorrow or tears;
But uthers as prompt as cud be,
Wad pay up all debts in arrears;
While uthers content an' prepared,
Wad finish the lang hundrid eers.

But, bliss ye! if this wes the case,
Thor's sum foaks that's nivvor content,
'Phey'd want te leeve fifty eers mair,
An' fifty eers mair te repent;
So aw think war all best as we are,
An' when hope frev each breest disappears
Let reflections byeth peaceful an' sweet
Myek us knaw we've not wasted wor eers;
That we've leev'd, just as if we had leev'd
For the whole 0' the .Iang hundrid eers.

The above can also be used as a Recitation.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 23 May 17 - 05:30 PM

A VARRY HARD BED!

TEUN- "The Laird 0' Cockpen."

HE wes lyin asleep i' the broad day-leer,
Stritch'd oat his full length i' the wide open street;
The curb-stone his pillow, quite helpless wes Ned,
Unconscious he lay on a varry hard bed.

Sumtimes he wad grummil at foaks passin by,
Then he'd give a greet snore, an' heave a greet sigh;
Not dreamin that cairts on his toes might hev tred,
He lay there se drunk on his varry hard bed.

A crood gether'd roond, an' the pollis perplext,
Cud dent waken him up, so they got varry vext;
For a stritcher one off te the station-hoose sped,
Then they carried him off tiv anuther hard bed.

He slept a' 'the neet, but next mornin, se sair,
He waken'd, an' started te find he'sel there;
He luckt roond aboot him, says he,
"Aw's misled, For if this is maw hoose it's a different bed! "

"Whativer on orth's browt us here?" ·then he said,
"Aw diddent cum here be me-sel, aw's aflaid ;
Aw'd slept just as weel in abroken-doon shed,
Me byens may weel ake on this hard-hearted bed! "

But the pollis com In, an' it open'd his eyes,
When the magistrates spoke he luckt up wi' surprise;
Says they, "Ye've had lodgins since hereye war led:"
Says he, "But ye gov us an awful hard bed

I' It cost him ten shillins,-he myed his way hyem,
Wi' heed-ake, an' heart-ake, an' byens just the syem ;
Says he, "Ne mair fuddlin, such nonsense is fled,
Aw've cum te maw senses upon that hard bed!"

The above can also be used as a Recitation.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 23 May 17 - 05:19 PM

BUY US A GILL 0' BEER!

TEUN-" When the Kye cums hame."

A CHEP that cadjes for a gill
'Ill nivvor gived a thowt,
An' nivvor reckon that the beer
He begs hes te be bowt.
If he knew ony shyem at a',
These words wad strike his ear,
If askin for a treat, he'd say"
Buy us a gill 0' beer? "

Korus

"Buy us a gill 0' beer's"
Not attractive te the ear;
It'll tyeka chepwi' narvete say"
Buy us a gill 0' beer!"

He asks ye if ye'll stand a glass
In a sneakin kind 0' way,
Such as-" Aw'm very dry this morn,
Aw want te wet me clay,"
He thinks it's not se beggin-like,
An' not at a' severe;
Altho its meanin's just the syem
"Buy us a gill 0' beer!"

An' this is hoo a chep 'ill spunge,
For folks te feed his greed;
Thor's lots wad giv him nowt at a'
If he said, "Buy us breed! "
An' lots wad hesitate a bit,
For all his meanin's clear,
If he wad only ask them thus
"Cum, hinny, buy us beer! "

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 23 May 17 - 05:08 PM

THE DOUBLE EVENT!

TEUN- "A Nice Young Man."

DICK wes a chep that stuck at nowt,
If it wad only pay;
He got an agent's job for beer,
An' myed brass i' that way.
He liked te swagger throo the toon,
An' call at ivry bar;
An' he seun got celebrated
As a trav'ler near an far.
He quickly myed a roarin trade,
An' drove his gig quite smart;
He wad seun be independent
Wi' myekin such a start :
At least he thowt se; so he'd try
Te myek his profits mair :
He'd hev a hand in sumthing else,
What at he diddent care.
But startin bissniss for he'sel
Stuck firmly in his mind;
He'd try a one that waddent fail
The undertakin kind.
An' so he did: he teuk a shop
Built in a weel-knawn street,
Exposin i' the windows there
New coffins te yor seet.
Ay, coffins! bonny handled, tee,
An' breest-plates, met yor view;
Ye cud stand an' calculate yor fit
An' this is really true.
He'd sell his beer te customers,
An' when thor life wes spent,
He'd coffins ready, gud an' cheap,
Wi' joiners kindly sent.
Thor's sum men hes a narve for owt,
If munny they can make;
Thor not porticklor what it is,
If it 'ill only take.
Te think a man shud deal i' beer,
An' deal i' coffins, tee,
Might shock the strangest vulgor mind;
But it's a fact, ye see!
Dick's frinds an'.foes wes a' surprised,
They thowt he'd seun repent;
An' for a lark they chris'end him
"The Double Greet Event! "
But Dick gets on-the Deevil's frind,
His smile it's always grim;
He knaws when he cums tiv his bier,
A coffin waits for him.

The above can also be used as a Recitation.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 23 May 17 - 03:57 PM

NANCY IN THE BARROW

TEUN-"Judy Macarty."

SAYS Jim te me-"One day aw saw
A seet that myed us glower:
A crood 0' folks wes geth'rin fast,
Aw thowt aw'd just cross ower
The street, te gaze amang the rest
At what had teuk thor fancy;
An' whe wes Iyin On the flags?
War neybor, Tipsy Nancy!

"She cuddent speak-she'd lost her tung,
Tho often she's got plenty;
She cuddent walk-she cuddent stand
A wheelbarrow stud empty.
What de ye think two on us did
Me an' a handy marrow?
We teuk her up, byeth neck an' crop,
An' put her in the barrow!

She stared aboot se helpless like,
For fear that she wes deein;
Wi' minds myed up te tyek her hyem,
We throo the streets went fieein,
Until we landed at the door,
Then lifted her like winkin,
An' left her safe eneuff te snore
An' get clear ov her drinkin.

They teli us when she wakened up,
Myest ivry byen wes akin;
She thowt the world wes upside doon,
She'd gettin such a shakin.
She blaired and cried like any bairn,
Upon her bed se narrow,
When tell'd sum frinds had browt her hyem
Se public i' the barrow. "

"Oh, wes aw born te be browt up,
Then turn a drunken wummin?'
She cried, wi' monny bitter tears;
'An' here's me gud-man cummin!
Aw'm sober now.-What will he think
(When aw'm for life his marrow),
If he hears tell, throo a' the streets,
They've wheel'd us iv a barrow? "

Such seets may be grand fun te sum,
But, oh, it is disgustin;
At last aw really de think shyem
Me heart, it's nearly brustin!
Ne mair aw'll touch the filthy stuff,
Me feelins se te harrow;
An' if it proves te me a cure,
Aw'll bliss that awful barrow!"

She teuk the pledge, an' kept it tee,
An' noo she's what aw fancy:
A canny neybor, clean an' kind;
Weel liked be a' is Nancy.
But shyem still myeks her hang her heed,
She's gawn te shift te Jarrow,
In hopes nebody there 'ill knaw
Her journey in the barrow.
The above can also be used as a Recitation.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 23 May 17 - 03:55 PM

A DRUNKEN MAN!

'TEUN- "The Cork-Leg."

IF ivor ye want te hear black's white,
If ivor ye want a reglor fight,
Hoo seun the flame ye can easily fan,
If ye contradict a drunken man.

Let him say owt, an' ye divvent agree,
If ye tell him he's rang, he'll let ye see
That ye cannet be reet withoot his plan;
An' thor's nyen se wise as a drunken man.

He'll say his wife's the best i' the toon,
An' the varry next minnit knock her doon,
An' hammer her heed wi' poker an' pan:
A deevil on orth is a drunken man.

He'll grummil at owt, an' hey his way,
An' contradict ivry word ye say;
The subject 'ill finish where ye began,
Withoot thor's a fight wi' the drunken man.

He'll tell ye what he's deun iv his days,
An' stick atnowt if it's just self-praise;
The Lord 0' Creation here ye'll scan:
Chock-full 0' conceit is the drunken man.

He'll brag ova' that belangs te him,
His Uncle Bob and his Cousin Jim;
His tarrier dogs, that's black an' tan,
Is a subject grand for the drunken man.

He'll tell ye that he's canny an' croose,
Wiv a cumley wife an' a forst-rate hoose,
An' thor's nyen such happiness can span;
But ye munnit believe a drunken man!

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 23 May 17 - 01:27 PM

HARRY'S BROKEN LEG

TEUN- "Kiss me quick and go."

YOUNG HARRY staggered throo the street,
An' got a heavy fall ;
His leg wes broke, an' there he lay
Wi' heed agyen the wall.
His groans attracted plenty folks,
But helpless there he lay,
Till frinds com up te lend a hand,
An' carry him away.

Kurus

An'.ten weeks on his bed he lay,
As helpless as cud be;
An' mony a time he rued the day
He went upon the spree.

His muther tried te cheer him up,
An' frinds com droppin in:
For Harry had a lot 0' mates
Te see his broken shin:
It frightened sum, an' myed them stop
Upon thor thowtless way;
But one 0' them, young Charley Jones,
Called in byeth neet an' day.

An' Charley often cheered him up,
Wi' readin tiv him there:
He'd tyek a beuk an' sit beside
Poor Harry iv his chair:
What Charley red wes gud an' true,
It let young Harry see
That drink, intoxicatin drink,
Nowt else but harm cud de.

An' Charley myed young Harry turn
Te think the syem as him;
An' often he wad wipe his eyes,
As they wi' tears grew dim.
He teuk the pledge-he's fund it brings
Such happiness te him;
He'll nivvor brickti-he's got mair sense,
Since he'd that broken limb.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 23 May 17 - 01:16 PM

NE CLAESI

TEUN-"The Postman's Knock."

SAYS Mary, wi' tears runnin a' doon her cheeks,
"Aw cud cry me eyes oat throo war Jack;
He spends as much munny on whiskeyan' beer
As wad put a new suit on his back;
Each Monday he promises faithful te buy
Sum claes for the bairnies an' me;
He myeks us believe that he's gannin te work,
But he's half 0' the week on the spree.

Korus

"It's a pity te see wor Jack on the spree,
He'll nivvor buy claes for the bairns or for me.

" Buy sum claes for the bairns if ye winnet forme!'
At the end 0' the week aw'll oft say;
But he puts us off wiv a paltry excuse,
Such as-' Wait till aw hev a full pay!'
He'll spend all his brass, axin foaks what they'll hev'
He's a gud-hearted fellow,'they say;
But they nivvor imagine he nivvor asks me
What aw'll hev, when at hyem, i' that way.

"It may set him off i' the cumpney he gets,
But if he'd these three-happences save,
Hoo seun he might better byeth us an' he'sel,
Ay, an' not keep his wife like a slave;
Unshaven he'd rethur gan for a full week,
Always dirty an' seedy is he;
An' the bairns an' me-sel's not a bit better off,
Throo the munny he spends iv a spree.

"Aw've mended thor claes till a stitch 'ill not haud,
If aw wesh them, te pieces they cum;
For all he sees this, an' besides they've ne shoes,
When aw speak, aw might as weel be dumb;
If he answers at a', he'll say, 'Wait, an' aw'll buy
Them a' sumthing on Seturday next;'
But Seturday cums an' it gans the syem way,
An' aw'vealways a heart sairly vext.

"There's Tommy, poor thing, tho he's happy i' rags,
He's not fit.te be seen i' the street,
An' Mally, she hesint a hat tiv her heed,
An' young Johnny ne shoes tiv his feet;
Wi' me awd claes aw often cud help them a bit,
But aw noo heh te weer them me-sel;
An' whativor 'ill cum ov us a' when thor deun,
Whey, aw cannet imagine or tell.

Wor neybors, next door, always dress smart an' neat,
An' thor always at hyem at a meal;
Thor the pictor 0' cumfort an' hearty gud hilth,
An' thor real canny foaks tee as weel;
They've wanted us often te gan up sum neet,
Te join i' the Temperance cawse,
An' then we might just be as weel off as them,
But wor Jack 'ill not gan, tho he knaws.

"Aw wish.he wad join them, an' stick te the pledge,
What a different life it wad be;
Thor's nowt but starvation an' want where thor's drink,
For the wages that cum as seun flee;
Thor's one-half condem'd for the tick that he's had,
Wi' the uther he'll gan on the spree ;
While the fam'ly may starve, wi' ne claes te thor backs,
Then God help them poor bairnies an' me."

The above can also be used as a Recitation.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 23 May 17 - 08:52 AM

WHAT A HELPLESS CHEP AM AW!

TEUN- "The Happy Land of Erin."

WHAT a helpless chep am aw,
It's a pity ye shud knaw,
But aw cannet baud me tung, so aw mun speak, man;
For aw once wes bowld an' strang,
An' cud roar oot ony sang,
Noo aw cannet sing for sixpence, aw's se weak, man.

Korus

But join us i' the korus, an' lend a helpin hand,
Tho aw needint sing i' praise 0' rum or whiskey;
For they tyek away all power, an' if aw cud only stand,
An' wes sober, aw wad sing the" Bay 0' Biskey."

Aw's as poor as ony moose,
An' aw's not a bit 0' use,
Or an ornament te grace gud society;
An' this neet aw'll lay me bones
On a bed 0' pavin stones,
For aw hevvint sense te stick te sobriety.

But it's just what aw desarve,
Tho aw had ne call te starve,
If aw'd been a sober chep, aw'd been real clivor;
But me heed keeps in a muddle,
Throo us gettin on the fuddle,
It's a wasted life that spoils yor brains for ivor.

Hoo aw gloried in a spree,
Myekin beer an' munny flee,
Nivvor thinkin that me brass wes gettin shorter.
Aw had such a canny lass,
But aw lost her throo me glass,
Aw wes drinkin, so aw haddint time te court her.

But aw'm sure 'twes best for her,
When she showed us te the door,
'Twad been misery for life if she had married
Such a drunken chep as me,
So aw often wish te dee,
For aw nivvor will be happy till aw'm barried.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 23 May 17 - 07:21 AM

YE NIVVOR THINK THAT MIGHT BE YE!

TEUN- "The Time that me Fethur wes bad."

WHEN ye read i' the papers each morn,
Ov sum most unfortunate case,
Where poor fellows meet, throo the drink,
Thor deeth i' sum cot-the-way place;
It's unheeded, passed ower, forgot,
It's sumthingse common te see;
An' ye nivvor imagine such-like
Might just as seun happen te ye.

No, ye nivvor think that might been ye,
Yor reckoned a real stiddy man,
But ye might get a drop ower much
Te drink nyen at a's the best plan!
Wi' yor senses aboot ye se clear,
Yor footsteps is sure, safe, an' soond:
If the river cud speak, it wad say,
"Thor's seldum Teetotalers drooned !"

Then just think 0' me sang when ye read
The cases yor sartin te see,
An' ye'll find the best pairt's a' throo drink,
Sum accidents efter a spree.
When ye think 0' such untimely deeths,
It's far better te let drink a be,
For it's ne gud te sacrifice life,
That shud always be precious te ye.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 23 May 17 - 07:13 AM

THE DIFFERENCE

TEUN- "The Harp that once."

JUST see the drunkard, mean an' starved,
Gan trailin throo the street,
Appealin wiv his bleary eyes
For ye te stand him treat.
A lazy, dorty, creepin thing,
A man but i' the nyem
A sot that cares for nowt but drink,
A stranger tiv a' shem.

Despised for spungin, there he'll stand,
An' shiver heed te fut;
Sumtimes adorned wi' blackened eye,
Or else sum ugly cut,
That myeks him mair repulsive like
Yor forced te turn away,
An' wunder hoo he hes the cheek
Te turn oot throo the day.

Then see the brisk teetotal man
Gan sharply throo the street,
Wi' heed erect ;-he gains respect
Frae ivry one he'll meet.
His plissure is a bissey life,
He knaws it suits him best;
An' when relieved frae daily toil,
Thor's cumfort in his rest.

He'd like te better a' mankind
That's gyen, or led, astray;
He'd kindly tyek the drunkard's hand
Te lead him the reet way;
An' show te him the greet mistake,
In drink thor is ne gain;
That life can be a
Paradise, If he will but abstain.


-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 23 May 17 - 06:53 AM

LAZY JACK!

TEUN- "The Sewing Machine."

JACK wes a real gud workman,
His shopmates a' knew that;
But whenivor he got drink,
He'd nivvor strike a bat.
His mates wes all sober men,
An' diddent like te see
A clivor hand like Lazy Jack
Se often on the spree.

Korus

He wad hardly work a week,
Before he got the sack;
'Twes a pity te see
Such a man on the spree
Wiv a nyem like Lazy Jack!

His wife wes full 0' trubble,
An' mony weary days,
She'd humour him or scowld him
Te myek him mend his ways.
An' Jack wad say he wad did,
But when she turned her back,
He'd say, "Ne wark for me the day!"
Weel nyem'd wes Lazy Jack.

He'd often tyek a bottle,
When he wes on the spree,
Te drink at hyem, throo the neet,
A real dry chep was he.
He'd put it in the cupboard,
An' reckoned such a treat,
The time his wifewes fast asleep,
Te fuddle a' the neet.

One neet, mair drunk than ivor,
He got up for a drink,
An' seized another bottle
Afore he'd time te think.
He swally'd a gud moothful,
An' then wi' fear wes dumb:
He fund 'twas "Furnitor Polish"
An' not Jamaica Rum.

"What's this?" he cried; "aw's deun for.
Whativor is this stuff?
It's neither rum nor whiskey,
Aw's setisfied eneuff.
Gud-bye, maw ill-used wifey!
Aw'm deed I-aw's on me back!
An unintended suicide's
Yor husband, Lazy Jack!"

He thowt that he wes poisin'd,
Be gud luck he wes not;
But it gov him such a fright,
It changed him frev a sot
Tiv a useful sober man. Says he,
"If folks wad think,
An' dreed poisin noo as aw did;
They'd nivvor ne mair drink!"

Korus

A simple cure's often best,
So here aw'll end me crack;
But away an' at hyem,
Thor's a change tiv his nyern,
It's canny Industrious Jack.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 22 May 17 - 08:55 PM

CLIVOR MEN!

TEUN-" Barbary Bell."

YE may talk aboot clivor men bein greet drinkers,
An' reckon yor-sel as a one 0' that sort,
An' run doon teetotal te cheps that's not thinkers,
But, hinny, what say ye to Cowen an' Burt?
Are they i' yor list amang a' yor greet talent,
If not, myek a fresh un if only for sport,
An' heed it wi' one 0' the best 0' Gud Templars,
The M.P. for Morpeth, the nyem Thomas Burt.

It's a credit to send for thor member a pitman,
They knew he desarved it, an' voted like men;
What he's deun issent halfwhat he's gan te de yit,man,
In Parliament seun he'll myek famous his nyem.
He talks like a man wiv his senses aboot him,
Thor's nowt stimulates him se much as the worth
Ov his awn canny frinds, an' they nivvor need doot him,
The workin-man's frind, an' the pride 0' the North.

Thor's uthers like him aw cud mention wi' plissure,
But, bliss ye, 'twad fill a big beuk such a size;
Thor nyems i' the North we respect an' we trissure,
Joe Cowen's anuther te open yor eyes:
He knaws mair aboot a' political hist'ry,
Then lots 0' greet statesmen that's got a grand nyem,
An' hoohe thinks on't a' te me's quite a myst'ry;
He'll myek his mark yit, lad, afore he cums hyem.

So dinnet brag se when ye talk aboot drinkers,
Or dinnet ye run the teetotalers doon;
Thor's men that's abstainers can prove as greet clinkers,
An' myek thor-sels knawn te the world i' renoon.
Sobriety myeks a man's heed always clearer,
He's welcum, respected, knaws hoo te behave;
Te byeth frinds an' family he'll ivor be dearer
It dissent need whiskey te myek a man brave.


-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 22 May 17 - 07:34 PM

LAST NEET AW FELL OOT WI' ME MATE!

TEUN- "The Gallowgate Lad."

AW'M bad, but aw's always complainin,
Me heed's just as thick as can be,
Se often aw get on the fuddle,
Reflection's ne plissure for me;
Me-sel aw cud start noo an' hammer,
Aw think se much shem te relate;
Throo the drink aw's byeth sad an' unhappy,
Last neet aw fell oot wi' me mate.

A canny young fellow is Geordey,
He's been a real gud un te me;
It's fewthat's enjoy'd better frindship,
Se kind an' true-hearted is he ;
Aw nivvor fell oot wi' me comrade,
Till last neet, aw'm sorry te state:
Aw teuk offme coat for te fight him,
Te fight wi' maw canny aud mate.

Wi' spirits an' beer nearly crazy,
Disputin each word that he said:
Me tung full ov owt but gud langwidge,
A mis'rable time on't aw myed;
Aw struck him, an' show'd me bad temper,
Man! me-sel aw cud willingly hate ;
Aw cud cry, aw's that full 0' vexation,
Te think aw fell oot wi' me mate.

Poor fellow, he tried te persuade us
Te pitch up the drink for me gud,
An' he said, if aw'd try, wiv a struggle
Aw'd did, an' quite easy aw cud;
But stubborn, aw started te call him
A preacher, se paltry, te prate;
Aw treated wi' scorn his true kindness,
An' scoff'd at maw canny aud mate.

Aw saw the poor lad wes quite nettled,
An' sorry te see me that way;
He tried te put me in gud humour,
Not one angry word wad he say;
But heed-strang an' fiercely ungrateful,
Wi' passion that waddent abate;
Aw call'd him a "nowt" for his trouble,
An' fairly fell out wi' me mate.

When sober hoo happy tegither
We've been, an' we always cud be,
Aw'll tyek his advice, turn teetotal,
The varry best thing aw can de:
For drink myeks a man se unhappy,
Throo trouble it's sure te create;
It separates frinds an' relations,
An' myeks a chep loss a gud mate.

The above can also be used as a Recitation.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 22 May 17 - 05:53 PM

FLOG'D IN JAIL!

RECITATION

WHE wad pity a drunken brute
That struck a helpless man?
That robbed an' nearly killed, for drink,
A poor an' crippled man?
An' whe wes this unfeelin wretch?
That rascal, Fightin Dan!

Thor's sum, if they can use thor fists,
Such greet advantage take;
They'll double't in yor varry fyece,
Te put ye in a shake,
Te myek ye give what ye refuse
If ye are wideawake.

An' so did Dan treat this poor man,
Aw've mentioned once before:
He tried te myek him pay for drink,
An' then he cursed an' swore,
Then followed him up sum byway
The villainI-like a cur !

'Twes nearly murder: but he lived
Te limp doon te the court,
An' there describe the foul attack,
An' tell where he wes hurt;
The sentence that Dan got that day
Wes onything but sport.

For days he waited i' the jail,
Till one day, tiv his ward,
The turnkey com te tell him he
Wes wanted in the yard.
He seun wes stript an' fastened up
"Gan at it I-hit him hard!"

An' so they did: they hit him hard,
An' Dan turned varry pale ;
Tho seldum frightened ov a man,
The "cat" seun myed him quail.
He yeIled,-it hurt his feelins se,
This bein fiog'd i' jail.

He cried for marcy!- mark the words !
For marcy, at each stroke!
But had he any marcy for
The man he tried te choke?
No! not a bit; not even if
His victim's neck had broke!

Ne pity for the hardened wretch;
Ne sympathy or fear:
Thor'sower mony like him, an'
We divvent want them here:
Thor's sum wad commit ony crime,
Ay, murder, for thor beer!

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 22 May 17 - 05:18 PM

DRINK NE MAIR!

TEUN- "Trust te Luck."

DRINK ne mair! drink ne mair!
Tyek advice that's weel meant:
Thor's not one that abstains
Ivor knawn te repent.
They've seen throo thor folly,
They've got common sense,
Te keep them frae misery,
Low life, an' expense.
Thor brains once se muddled,
They find bright an' clear,
An' things oncese cloody
Sunshiney appear.
Drink ne mair! drink ne mair!
Drink ne mair for yor life!
Drink ne mair for yor-sel,
For yor bairns an' yor wife.
Then attend-aw's yor frind,
Tyek advice that's wee! meant:
Thor's not one that abstains
Ivor knawn te repent.

Drink ne mair !-throo the air,
Thor's a voice that repeats
These words te the drunkard,
In hoose, bed, or streets.
An' they whisper a warnin
That nyen shud neglect,
If thor anxious te win
Byeth gud frinds an' respect.
Wi firm resolution,
Hoo seun they'll obtain
Such a hearty gud change;
Ne mair they'll complain,
Or wish they war lifeless,
An' eager for deeth,
But welcum the mornin
Wi' hilth i' thor breeth.
Then attend-aw's yor frind,
Tyek advice that's weel meant:
Thor's not one that abstains
Ivor knawn te repent.

Drink ne mair i-true an' fair
Is the warnin we give:
It 'ill lengthen yor days;
It's a plissure te live,
Wi' ne thowts te darken
The bright, open day,
But honest reflections
Te keep care away;
Contented an' cheerful,
Wi plenty i' store,
Nivvor dreedin the thowts
0' the neet gyen before.
Keep away frae despair,
If ye'll only but think
Ov the happiness lost
Throo gein way te the drink.
Then attend-aw's yor frind,
Thor all frinds that declare,
For the sake 0' yor-sel,
Drink ne mair! drink ne mair !

The above can also be used as a Recitation.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 22 May 17 - 05:07 PM

WHAT A FEUL AW'VE BEEN!

TEUN-"John Anderson my Jo."

Aw mind the time, when full 0' strength,
Aw gaily went te wark,
An' care sat leetIy On me broo
Frae mornin until dark.
A happy fam'ly be me side
Enlivened a' the scene;
But noo the change, the weary change,
Shows what a feul aw've been.

Contented wi' me daily lot,
Industry charmed me heart,
An' high it beat wi' honest hope,
Sum day aw'd myek a start
I' bissniss, maister for me-sel,
An' this aw might heh been;
But oh, the drink, the weary drink,
Shows what a feul aw've been.

Aw had a hoose, a canny hoose,
An' luvin wife beside;
An' bairns that clung around me knee,
Thor dad and mammy's pride.
Poor things! they dropped off one be one,
For poverty se keen
Com roond us wiv a deedly blast
Man, what a feul aw've been!

The hoose that shud hey been a hyem
Te wife an' bairns for life,
Wes myed a scene ov nowt but want
An' nivvor-ending strife.
Wi' happiness completely lost,
Ne hoose, ne wife, nor wean,
The miserable life aw lead
Shows what a feul aw've been.


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 22 May 17 - 04:17 PM

DEETH l' THE STREET

RECITATION. 'TWES a fearful seet,
l' the winter's neet,
A wummin lyin drunk i' the street.

Sum thowt she wes bad,
Or deed wi' the cawd,
She luckt se starved an' se poorly clad.

They wad tyek her up,
An' give her a sup:
Her breeth smelt strang 0' the cursed cup.

They myest.let her fall,
But a frindly wall
Stopt her, as she opened her shawl.

What wes that that fell?
Aw can hardly tell.
Was she a wummin or fiend from hell?

Se drunk i' the street,
On a winter's neet,
Wiv her bairn lyin a corpse at her feet!

'Twes frozen te deeth,
An' they held thor breeth,
As they held the corpse, wi' chatterin teeth.

Poor thing! it wes cawd;
A bonny bit lad;
Eneuff te myek the most heartless sad.

They teuk them away;
An' a frosty day
Opened as they i' the station lay.

Aw'm silent an' brief
On a muther's grief;
But i' deeth, that day, she'd felt relief:

For a lifeless child,
An' a parent wild,
Wes seen, as the sun shone soft an' mild.

'Here the nation's curse
On a bairnless nurse
Wes seen iv its evils, strong in force.

An' so it 'ill be,
Till the country's free
Frae the drink that works such misery.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 22 May 17 - 04:09 PM

THE PAINTED NOSE!

TEUN-" Irish Mally, O!"

JIM TODD wes once a gud-like chep,
Wi' nose byeth clean an' strite;
His cheeks had a nice rosy tint
Abuv the skin se white.
Until he joined a drunken lot,
His features had repose;
But brandy myed an ugly change,
It pimpled a' his nose.

Korus.

It spoiled his fyece se canny,
An' his failins did expose;
It's not a plissint seet te see
A drunkard's painted nose!

At forst he thowt them beauty spots,
That seun wad gan away;
He cuddent think he'd hey a nose
Like that frae day te day.
He sighed as he luckt i' the glass,
Wi' feelins quite morose,
Te see his cheeks se varry pale,
An' such a fierynose!

He got advice frae docter cheps,
But a' that they cud say,
Wes if he'd let the drink alyen,
'Twad mebbies gan away.
It teuk him eers te cullur'd se,
An' munny, aw suppose:
The brandy that he drunk wad myek't
A real expensive nose!

An' so he carries on his fyece
The drunkard's glarin sign!
Ye cannet called an ornament,
Tho brightly it dis shine.
But if he'll tyek a frind's advice,
An' de what aw propose,
He'll drink ne mair, but tyek the pledge,
An' get a different nose!

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 22 May 17 - 03:43 PM

THE NEET SCHEUL

TEUN- "The Lancashire Lass."

WOR Jack's a young lad that's byeth clivor an' smart,
His heed's full 0' knollidge an' a' kinds 0' lairnin;
He's got a' the scheul beuks clean off be heart,
An' nowt else wad please him but startin a scheul.
He thowt he cud de the thing complete,
Efter wark, i' the hoose, myest ivry neet,
Wi' lads an' lasses belangin the street,
He wad seun hey a canny bit scheul,

Korus

"If they'd say eftor me thor ABC,"
He thowt it wad de se canny an' clivor ;
But ABC DEan' F G
Wes owt but a spree for poor Jack at the scheu!.

The scholars he got wes a thick-heeded lot,
They had bother'd the heed ov mony a maister,
Till hopeless they'd let them a' gan te pot,
So Jack got them a' when he opened the scheul;
Besides they war nearly twice Jack's age,
If they broke a slate or tore a page,
They wad laffte see him get iv a rage,
An they'd myek quite a scene i' scheu!.

Says one, "What's the gud ov us lairnin at a'?
When aw can get me muther te read the papers;"
Says anuther, "Aw'lllairn when aw'm auder, aw knaw,
That 'ill save us the trouble ov gannin te scheul!"
Then anuther wad seun brick up the class,
Wi' startin te tease anuther lad's lass,
An' if Jack spoke they'd smack his jaws,
So they seun put an end te the scheul,

Says Jack, "But ye'll a' rue this i' the end,
Thor's nowt ye'll regret like yor lairnin neglected,
Ye pay ne attenshun becawse aw's yor frind,
When aw's willin te teach ye ye'll not hey a scheul
Ye'll think 0' the chance ye've thrawn away,
An' mony a time ye'll rue the day
That ye broke up me little bit scheul.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 22 May 17 - 12:13 AM

TOM BROON. READING OR RECITATION

"WHAT'S the next case?" said the magistrate; but he seemed te knaw, aw think,
It wad be like a' the uthers, throo the drink--the weary drink:
An' the disapated pris'nor luckt aroond an' hung hisheed,
An' he tried te shun the glances frae the curious eyes he see'd.
For 'twas Tom Breon's first appearance In this low, degradin scene,
An' he hoped an' wished 'twad be the last, him an' the grave between:
For not once iv a' his life-time had it ivor been his fate,
Before this morn, te stand afore the grim-like magistrate.
An' his blood-shot eyes they glistened when he thowt aboot his hyem,
An' he wundor'd hoo his wife an' bairns wad ivor bear the shem
That he'd browt se heavy on them, an' his heart beat quick an' fast,
As he murmured tiv he'sel, nigh chokin, "This shall be the last,
Ay, the last time that they'll witness such a scene 0' maw disgrace;
Ay, the last time that aw'Il hing me heed i' such a hated place!"
The magistrate spoke kindly, for he saw repentance there,
Then dismissed him wiv a cawshun, but he tell'd him te beware!
An' he gov him that bit gud advice te let the drink alyen,
An' he teIl'd him that he nivvor wished te see him there agyen.
Tom thenkt him in a manner that he cuddent then resist,
An' swore ne mair they'd see his nyem upon the drunkard's list;
An' his heart lowpt wiv a joy that they cuddent help but see,
For he felt, but in two different ways, that he once mair wes free
For in that awful moment, when he first appeared in court,
Te be the haze-gaze 0' the crood, his pride wes sairly hurt;
He had only then considered what had really browt him there,
What had been the cawse ova' his shem-the cawse ov his dispair.
In that first sober moment that he'd felt for mony days,
He knew thor wes but one te blame for his bad, feulish ways.
An' whe wes that one but he'sel he fund he cuddent say,
An' he swore te be teetotal frae that day-that varry day.
An' the heart wes noo uplifted that before had been cast doon,
An' he blist his resolution as he hurried throo the toon.
The drink his shopmates offered noo he firmly cast aside,
An' tiv a' thor greet temptayshuns he most steadily replied,
"Not a drop, not one! Aw tell ye, not a single drop aw'll tyek,
For if aw've been asleep till noo, aw find aw'm wideawake
Te the evil that it's cawsed us,-an' if mine be nowt te sum,
Whey, aw'll try me best te hinder such anuther day te cum
Te me-sel an' te the mony;-an' ye knaw as weel as me
That aw'm honest and strite-forward as a workin man can be.
Then what myed us se disgracefully bring a' me frinds te grief?
What myed us be trailed throo the streets like sum vile, dorty thief?
What myed us pass last neet amang an idle, low-lifed gang,
When aw shud been at hyem i' peace, an' free frev ony rang?
What browt us te the pris'nor's box like sum poor, guilty thing,
An' on me fam'ly an' me-sel such misery te bring,
An' fill thor breests wi' shem an' pain,-hoo can aw meet thor eyes?
Hoo can me maister trust us noo ?-
Aw ask ye is this wise?
What else but drink-the country's curse-browt this mischief te me?
So frae man's greatest enemy this moment aw'll be free!
An' if ye'Il tyek a mate's advice, ye'll try an' de the syem,
For drunkenness 'Il nivvor tend te myek a happy hyem.
The lesson that aw've lairnt the day shall iver be me plan,
Te shun disgrace an' try te be respected as a man! "


-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 21 May 17 - 11:57 PM

WHICH DE YE CALL MEAN ?
A TEETOTALER'S DEFENCE.
RECITATION

YOR prejudiced agyen the men
That winnet drink wi' ye ;
Ye call teetotal members mean
Ye've said the syem te me!
Can ye expect that they shud stand
A glass 0' beer for ye,
The varry thing that they detest?
No, no, that waddent de !

An' if they dinnet drink thor-sels,
They heh ne call te pay
For drink for ye, or ony one,
That's meant te gan that way.
Ye heh ne reet te call them mean,
An' noo aw'll tell ye hoo,
For 'twixt ye an' teetotal men,
Yor meanest 0' the two I

Is't. mean that they shud study hyem,
Its cumforts an' its peace ;
An' try te myek thor happiness
Frae day te day increase?
The time that drunkords fuddle on,
Wi' nowt fit te be seen;
Where is thor cumfort i' the hoose ?
Noo which de ye call mean?

The drunkord hes ne care for hyem,
He's selfish te the last;
As lang as he gets plenty beer,
His wife an' bairns may fast;
He's bloated out wi' drink se full,
At hyem thor starved an' lean;
He nivvor cares for hyem at a',
Noo which de ye call mean?

A sober man's his bairns' best frind;
Wiv all a fethur's pride,
He thinks ne palace like his awn,
His cosey fireside;
His wife an' fam'ly tyek a pride,
In keepin a' things clean;
Thor's plenty there-ne signs 0' want,
Noo which de ye call mean?

Is't him that's stiddy, kind an' true
Tiv a' that's i' the hoose ?
Or him that spunges, ticks, and sprees,
For nowt ov ony use?
Aw've shown ye what aw knaw's quite true,
Ye hey yor choice between,
Then speak the truth, ye've heerd us throo,
Noo which de ye call mean?

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RTEMPERANCE SONGS, REAE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 21 May 17 - 08:37 PM

TEMPERANCE SONGS,
READINGS,
AND RECITATIONS.

TEMPERANCE
KILL'D THROO A FALL DOONSTAIRS.
READING OR RECITATION.

"WHAT a nice young chep Jack Harley is ! " the neybors a' wad say,
As, clean an' neat, he left the hoose te gan te wark each day;
An' a cheerful smile lit up his fyece whenivor he luckt back,
An' nodded tiv his canny wife an' little bairn, young Jack.
An' the little fellow nodded tee, an' shooted-" Da, ta! ta!"
It myed Jack turn an' smile agyen at this sweet scene he saw.
An' he often thowt an' said he was the happiest 0' men,
An' happier felt, when wark wes deun, te be at hyem agyen.
Ivrything went on first-rate, an' Jack had little care,
Except attendin te the wants not often wanted there;
For Bessy wes a careful wife, an' easy myed ends meet:
In fact, ye cuddentfind a happier couple i' the street.
But Time browt changes te the hoose that there shud nivvor been,
An' cast a clood that nivvor yit wes lifted frae the scene:
For Jack got mates-an idle lot-that wassent fit for him,
An' filled his once bright, happy cup wi' mis'ry te the brim.
Then Jack's free disposition always myed him easy prey
Te fellows wi' the gift 0' tung, that often hes the way
Te myek ye think they like ye weel-that they're yor truest frinds ;
Weel up iv a' kinds 0' deceit, te sarve thor selfish ends,
So Jack wes seun perswayded te join them iv a spree.
Next mornin' when he wakened up, as bad as he cud be,
They teuk him te the public-hoose where they had been before,
An' when they fund thor money gyen they started" tick" te score.
Thor wark neglected, there they sat, an' kept it up for days,
Wi' the drink they raised wi' spungin an' a' such dirty ways,
Till Jack wes just as bad as them, an' fairly lost te shem,
Except when, wiva moment's pain, his mind wad wander hyern.
An' when he tried te gan away,his tempters kept him back
Frae the canny wife se true te him an' canny little Jack.
So days went on like this till Jack nowt but a drunkard turn'd:
He hated wark as he luved drink-his throat for iver burn'd
For drink-s-ay, drink, that fearful curse, had fallen upon him,
An' filled his once bright, happy cup wi' mis'ry te the brim.
One neet, his wife went on her knees, an' prayed that he wad stop,
Ay, if he'd only stop at hyem, she'd fetch him in a drop.
"If he wad only stop at hyem," she uttered wiv a sigh, "
She'd try te myek him happy, as she'd deun i' days gyen by; .
She'd cool his broo wi' wetted cloths, an' rest wad bring him roond;
A few days wad myek him better !"-an' her voice had that sweet soond,
That Jack once halted at the door, an' said-" Lass, nivvor fear !
Aw'llmyek this spree me varry last; an' when aw'm off the beer,
Aw'll gan te wark : aw'll get a job at owt if war trade's slack.
Yor seedy noo-ye want sum claes, an' so dis little Jack! "
He kissed her as he left the hoose; she smiled an' said, "Cum seun"!
She knew hoo happy they cud be if once his spree was deun.
That neet she waited lang, as she had often deun before,
An' listened te the footsteps that kept passin' bythe door;
An' little Jack laffed iv his dreams, as if he had ne care;
An' Bessy turned quite sleepy-when a footstep on the stair
Myed her start up te showa leet. She heard him stagger noo
A heavy fall doonstairs-an' then, a groan that went clean throo
The heart 0' that poor list'ner ;-then a hurried rush 0' feet
Frae the neybors, as they flew te see the dreadful wark that neet.
Poor Bessy screamed, when Jack she saw, wi' blud upon his cheek.
"Maw canny man, where are ye hurt?" but Jack, he cuddent speak.
He fixed his eyes upon his wife in anguish and remorse,
For drink had browt ne life te him, but untimely deeth -its curse!


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 21 May 17 - 07:52 PM

THE GREET BOAT RACE

For the Championshionship 0' the Tyne an' £400, Sept. 5 and 6, 1864.

TRUN- "The Hairr," or" Hop Light Loo."

THE aud bridge groan'd as tho it thowt
Its end wes noo drawn near;
The level creakt and squeakt beneath
The weight it had te beer;
The steamers rowld frae side te side,
An' ivry boat wes full,
When Chambers, ov aquatic fame,
An' Cooper had te pull.

Korus

Pull, lads, pull! like leetnin wi' the tide!
Pull, lads, pull! the victry te decide!
Pull, lads, pull !-Iet pluck an' skill combine
Te show the world thor's nyen can touch
The Champion 0' the Tyne!

Ne fear 0' cheat or false defeat
Wes iv a breest that day,
For spite wad myek them pull for fairs
An' anxshus for the fray;
The river, like a heavy sea,
Myed ivry beetin heart
Quake when they saw sic fearless men
Pull. near the bridge te start.

Thor off! gud grashus what a shoot
Wes sent frae shore te shore,
The time-gun i' the Cassel Garth
Cud nivor cawse sic stir,
For like two swift locomotives
Byeth try te gain the lead,
Wi' quickind spurt, 'mid roarin cheers
Bob Chambers gans a-heed.

The champion wi' masheen-like stroke
Dash'd bravely throo the spray,
While Cooper, game as man cud be,
Tried hard te win the day,
When Chambers, throo the warst 0' luck,
Ran foul agyen two keels,
But full 0' steam-he's affagyen,
An' close at Cooper's heels.

Thor level noo,-but throo the storm
Grim danger claim'd the race,
For efter byeth the men had fould
A fearful scene teuk place,
Bob Chambers' boat wes sinkin fast,
The race that day wes deun,
Then foaks begun wi' clattrin tung
To argie byeth had wun.

The next day wi' the tide still ruff,
They had thor second spin,
Frae start te finish Chambers led,
The better man te win,
An' proov'd thor's not a man alive,
That can wi' him contend;
But speak weel 0' the lossin man,
May gud luck byeth attend.

The race that had for weeks an' munths
Excited mony a breest
Wes past-an' ivrybody's mind
Seem'd frev a load releest;
Ne men like these had ivor pull'd,
Let Tyneside glory shine,
An' lang may champions
0' the world Spring frae the coally Tyne.

Wor Geordey says he's glad he wes on the bridge at the race, for thor wes
a deed heet at the start, an' he dissent think they war ivor see close eftor't.
What a cawshun Geordey is, aw say.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 21 May 17 - 04:36 PM

WOR GEORDEY'S HISTORY 0' THE MATCHES

Tke Match Struck.-Efter Cooper lickt Everson at Lundun, his backers wanted te match him agyen ony steamboat on the
river, bar the Dredger, but they cuddent get on; so they tried a steam ingin, that wes Bob Chambers. The challinge wes
accepted. A meetin wes held i' the Sun, an' the room wes chock full. Harry Clasper's health wes drunk, but it behaved
itse! varry weel. Thor wes a vast 0' chaff aboot pownies and munkies-ye mun understand that a powny's nowt like a cuddy-
apowny's 25.Pund, an' a munky's 500 soverins.-(Me grandmuther says she wad rethur hev a munky i' the hoose then a
powny ony day.)-Cooper wanted te be stakehadder he'sel, but Chambers thowt he had mair reet te haud the Queen's
Heeds wi' hevin the Kings Heed at St. Anthony's, but that wes a' Walker.

Airtickils ov Agreement.-Bob Chambers, te try speed an' style, agrees te pull Cooper a mile-a full hour before it's high
tide-for one hundred sovrins aside-on Tuesday, sum day i' July, the date aw've forgot, but it's nigh-the Chronicle gaffer
te haud the deposits that's myed biv each lad-gate money te be divided, refforee not te be one-sided-the stakes te
gan wiv his disishun. So lads, get yor-sels j' condishun-an' mark ye, thor's not te be foolin, for that's agyen a' wor boat
rulln--the race te be rowed onTyne wetter, an' the seuner it's ower the better-Bob Chambers then put doon his nyem,
an' Cooper as weel did the syem-then aw bid them gud neet te gan hyem-an' for fear that aw'd mebbies get rang,
aw went hyem wi' me mate, Geordy Strange

Wor Peg's Ideas aboot it.

WOR PEG says it wad be a vast better if boat-rowers wes te pull wi' thor heeds turn'd the tuther way, so as they cud
see where thor gannin te.

Conversayshun at Blakey's Corner-the Neet afore the Race

JORN SPENCER-" Gentlemen, aw'Jl bet ony gentleman a bob that Bob beats Bob! "

ADAMSCOTT-"Deun! aw'Jl bet ye a pint!"

JOHN SPENCER-" Deun! but we may as weel hed noo! heh ye tuppence?

ADAMSCOTT-"No, aw've just threehappence, but aw'll cadge a meg ov Toby Walker, so let's away te Mackey's! "

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 21 May 17 - 04:16 PM

THE COCKNEY'S LAMENT

FAREWEEL the days when Lundun lads as Champions nobly shone,
Defiant te the wide wide world, the bonny Thames thor throne,
For noo Tyne lads beet us complete, wor chance wi them's but sma'!
Oh! sad's me heart, whe'd ivor thowt te see us browt se law.

Korus

Oh I dear oh! thor'snyen like Chambers, oh!
De a' we can we hevent a man
Te lick Bob Chambers, oh !

Fareweel the days when Lundun boats wes the finest that wes made,
But Harry Clasper, frae Tyneside, seun put wor's i' the shade;
He myeks his boats se leet an' neet, brings oot sic forstclass men,
He licks war builders, rowers te,-wor Lundun glory's gyen.

Fareweel the days when Robert Coombes rowed fleetly ower the tide,
The swiftest champion ivor knawn, the Cocknies' boast an' pride,
For gox, he'd had but little squeek, if he'd leeved this day te see,
For if Coombes cud myek his fine skiff run, Bob Chambers myeks his flee.

Fareweel the days when Lundun crews pull'd the winnin boat se fast
When i' skiffs, an' pairs, an' fower-oars we cuddint be sorpass'd,
But noo we might as weel not pull at the grand regretta here,
For Tyneside lads cum here an' win the prizes ivry eer.

Fareweel the days when Lundun lads victorious cud compete,
When strangers nivvor thowt te trywarchampions te defeat,
But noo Bob Cooper's put it on-ye'll knaw wi' we aw mean;
An' te pull the greet Bob Chambers the Australian mun be GREEN.

Fareweel the days, them happy days, When the world we cud defy,
We've struggl'd hard te keep war nyem, but noo think shem te try,
For Everson, Kelley, White, and Green, te Chambers did givein,
Bell's Life may puff an' praise them up, but it cannet myek them win.

Fareweel, fareweel them gud aud days, we'll see thor like ne mair,
For then ne men like Chambers pull'd, nyen cud wi' him compare;
Still Lundun men are gud as then,-resentful thowts decline,
For weel we knaw, say what we will, the BEST MEN'S on the Tyne.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 21 May 17 - 02:49 PM

AN ACROSTIC- TAYLOR

Written On the victorious career ov Jimmy Taylor, the seiabrated boat-puller, efter
the monny aifeats if his game but Unlucky bruthers.

T IME'S browr a greet change that aw's happy te see,
A w's prood that the change is se gladsome te ye,
Y e've proov'd ye can stay, tho yor bruthers tried hard,
L ossin each race tho they wun greet regard;
O v a' yor game bruthers thor's nyen like yor-sel,
R ow on, canny lad, may ye ivor excel!

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 21 May 17 - 01:53 PM

BILLY TURNBULL'S ADVENTORS AT THE GRAND REGRETTA THAT WES HELD (AUG. 1863)
THE SYEM WEEK THE BRITISH ASSOCIASHUNOV WISE FOAKS VISITED NEWCASSEL.

IT wes a splendid seet-when aw sat like a king at the heed 0' the King's Meadows amang a living mass
0' live foaks-me heart lowpt wiv excitement inside me new waistkit-but a' passin clood put us i' mind
0' the umberella that aw had borrow'd frae Bob Robson the time-gun boom'd throo the air, an' shoots
frae the stentorian lungs 0' the multitude drew me atfenshun te the noble forms 0' the champeins as
they war seen imbarkin, wi' the most magnanymus anniemosity rewards each uther, te dare the dangers
0' the tretcherous deep-it wes high tide, ye knaw-thor off!-thor cummin ! -thor wes a roar 0' voices an'
the river Sim-an' -Teasdale- Wilsonusly-aw ron up the Meadows wi' speed like JimPercy-aw's not
as lang as Ted Mills, but aw felt aw turned WHITE for all aw's a Bright-un-Chambors! aw shoots-aw
luckt at the men, heedless where aw wes runnin te, when all iv a suddint aw fell ower the Meadows-
it wes a momentus moment for me-aw struggled te get ashore-fearful retlecshuns struck us when aw
rickollected that aw nivvor had got ony lessons frae Professor Walker-for aw cuddent swim withoot
it wes doonwards-foaks say droonin men catch at straws, but thor wes ne straws, so aw clutched the
grass i' me desperayshun-me hand slipt-pairt 0' the grass wes clay-aw fell doon agyen, leets danced
afore me eyes, fearful noises rung i' me ears-nebody can imadgin the aw-ful sensayshun aw felt when
maw editorial heed wes under wetter-aw cud neither float or swim-so aw lay doon at the
'bottom till it wes law tide so as aw cud 'wawk oot!-aw dinnet knaw hoo aw got hyem-aw cuddent
reckollect owt mair-for aw've been insensible ivor since.-Yor Unlucky Frind,

-BILLY TURN-BULL.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 21 May 17 - 01:33 PM

THE TRAVYLIN PORTRAIT TYEKER!
A POME.

Aw thowt aw cud paint a pictor,
Aw did, upon me word,
So aw bowt a penny box 0' paints,
Just what aw cud afford,
An' then aw wundor'd what aw'd try,
A man, a beast, or bird.

Aw mind aw luckt i' mony a shop,
Transparent slates aw saw,
An' wish'd that aw cud buy a one,
For then aw'd lairn te draw;
But money often myeks a man,
An' that ov korse ye'll knaw.

So aw had te myek me-sel content
Wi' nowt but what aw had;
Aw struggled hard an' did me best,
Like mony a poor lad,
An' wor foaks had the narve te say
It wassent te call bad.

Aw thowt aw wad tyek a portrait,
So aw got me bruther Ned
Te sit before us mony a neet
When we shud been i' bed,
Aw thowt them wes the happiest oors
Two young uns ivor led.

Aw myed his nose a' kinds 0' shapes,
His eyes aw myed them squint,
His cheek, throo maw artistic skill,
Had monya dimple in't,
An' wiv a bright rose-pink aw goh
Them such a bonny tint.

But not a sowl alive cud see
A bit 0' likeness there,
Tho sum te please us myed us think
'Twas really varry fair,
For they wad say 'twas just like Ned,
Se reed aboot the hair!

But still aw thowt aw'd deun se weel,
Aw'd heva try agyen,
For if a gud job's once begun,
Te let it once alyen,
Wad ruin the best 0' clivor skemes,
An' best 0' clivor men.

So on went aw,-an' on went Time,
Wi' nowt else i' me heed,
But tyekin foaks's likenesses,
Till aw stud hard i' need
0' what aw cuddent de without,
That's Life's supporter, Breed!

Iv a booth at fair or hoppin,
Wi' black paper aw wad myek
Sum figgor for the silly feuls,
Se daft such like te tyek,
But feuIs mun often help us, lads,
Or where's war daily kyeck?

At last a fottygraff masheen,
Like Ieetnin i' the skies,
Com dazzlin one day te me seet,
An' fill'd us wi' surprise;
Be luck aw got one oat on tick:
The man that ticks is wise!

But Fortun always wi' the brave
'Ill not a comrade be,
Aw cuddent tyek a pictor wid,
One ivor fit te see;
Aw laid me heed upon me hand,
An' wish'd that aw cud dee.

At last a thowt flew throo me brain,
An' myed us once mair stir,
Ideas hoo te lairn the trade
Had not struck me before,
Aw'd try an' get a job te stand
At sum fottygraffer's door!

Aw did; an' noo ye'll see me nyem's
Upon a decent van,
At races, ony place where sport
Brings money is me plan;
It's puff, an' cheek, an' impittence
Myeks mony a bissniss man.

Frae sixpence up te ite-teen-pence,
Aw'll tyek ye weel on glass,
An' cairds, six bob a duzzin,
That nebody can surpass,
Aw'lI myek gud-luckin ony fyece,
Man, wummin, lad, or lass!


-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 21 May 17 - 01:11 PM

JACK HARDY'S KOORTSHIP AND MARRIDGE.
A RESITAYSHUN.

JACKHARDY was as fine a lad
As ivor ye cud see,
The reglor pictor ov his dad,
His muther once tell'd me,
As cute a lad, as sharp a lad,
As ye'll meet iv a day,
A lad that teuk care ov his brass,
An' threw nyen on't away.

At the age 0' fower-an'-twenty
He gat wark i' the toon,
As lodjins he wes forced te tyek,
He teuk a little room
Frev a canny quiet widow, an'
Her dowter, just he-teen,
An' wes settled like a lanlord,
Wi' greet cumfort,-a' soreen.

N00, the dowter kind a fancied
That here might be a chance
For a gud-man real gud-luckin;
She tried each winnin glance
That she thowt was fascinaytin,
But not one 0' them wad de,
For Jack had diff'rint noshuns
As te whe his wife shud be.

Throo the day, Jack always thinkin,
Throo the neet, iv ivry dream,
Thor wes only one idea,
An' strange as it may seem,
Jack he'sel had quite porswayded,
An' wi' quite a settled mind,
IV a' the wimmin he had seen
The widow wes myest kind.

He nivvor dreamt her dowtor luv'd
Or thowt ov him at a'j
'Twad been all the syem thing if he had,
For cutely, yemun knaw,
He'd reckund up the furnitor,
Se neat, se gud, se trim,
An' thowt a hoose se weel set up
Wes just the thing for him!

Tho cawshusly, he seun begun
Te koort the widow there,
An' smoked, an' joked, an' tawk'd away
Iv her late man's easy chair.
He fairly wun her hoose an' luv,
An' married seun war they;
Tho young enuff te be her son,
They'd many a happy day.

"Revenge is sweet!" sumbody says,
An' so the dowter thowt,
For tho Jack nivvor knew her luv,
She thowt he did, or owt ;
An' a' his dinners that she keuck't
She teuk gud care te spoil:
Wi' fire nearly always oot,
The pot wad nivvor boil.

Things went on this way days an' weeks
Till Jack's mate, Harry Hills,
Proposed te be his son-in-law,
One neet across thor gills.
The dowter got him-s-noo her lot's
Te wait upon a man
That always pledges her his luv
When he puts his claes i' pawn.

He likes his beer, dis Harry Hills,
His unkil knaws that tee,
For Harry's coat he often get's
Te help te raise a spree;
While lucky Jack sticks tiv his wife,
A happy couple,-they
Set a pattern te the young uns,
Workin hard frae day te day!"

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 20 May 17 - 05:45 PM

THE SYIMEESE TWINS

TEUN-"The Pawnshop Bleezin."

WOR Geordey, just the tuther day,
Wes walkin up an' doon, man,
An' what amused him myest ova'
Wes bills stuck roond the toon, man,
Advisin foaks te gan an' see
These Twins they call the Syimeese;
He's read thor hist'ry iv a beuk,
An' swears that wundor nivvor struck
Rim half se much afore, man.

He says this freak 0' nator is
Thor join'd se fast tegither,
Wiv a lump 0' grissel hard an' tight,
Thor siporashun's nivor;
They call one Bob, the tuther Jim,
An' Jim's like Bob, an' Bob's like him,
An' if one wants te stop at hyem,
The tuther hes te de the syem,
He cannot de owt else, man.

He says when young, that Bob wes wild,
An' liked te hey his glasses,
An' led a kind 0' rakish life
Amang a' kinds 0' lasses;
But Jim, he waddint hed at a',
He said te Bob,
"Aw'lliet ye knaw
If ye want te lead this life, me lad,
Ye can gan yor-sel, aw'll not be had,
Aw'll brik the string that ties us."

But Geordey says he dursent did,
For fear he hurt he'sel, man,
Since then thor kind a settled doon,
For on thor life's a spell, man;
Shud they fall oot an'hev a fight,
Thor's neethor hes the best 0' wight,
An' if they russel, byeth gan doon,
An' when they hit the blaw reboons,
The striker feels the blaw, man.

He says thor married an' got bairns,
He wunders hoo it's deun, man,
But i' this world thor's things se queer,
Sum reckind nowt but fun, man !
An' if Bob wants te say his prayers,
An' Jimmy wants te gan doonstairs,
Bob hes te wait till Jim gets deun,
An' if Jim's gan te kiss his sun,
Bob hes te boo his heed, man.

But gox! hoo funny it wad be,
The time that they war kortin,
For if the lass fell oot wi' Jim,
Bob's feelings she'd be hurtin,
An' if he whisper'd iv her ear,
The tuther one was sure te hear;
An' when Bob tyeks an openin dose,
It fissicks Jimmy aw suppose,
An' that's a reglor maser!

If Jim shud fancy gawn asleep,
Bob hes te gan wi' him, man,
An' if Bob fancies gannin 'oot,
He hes te gan wi' Jim, man ;
Where Bob is Jimmy hes te be,
Sumtimes ye'd think it issent spree,
But what one dis his mate mun de,
Iv a' the seets the world can see,
This is the biggest cawshun!

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 20 May 17 - 05:28 PM

IF SPENNITHORNE HAD WUN! OR, THE PLATE O' 74

TEUN-"'John Anderson, my Jo."

Aw meant te buy a chist 0' drawers,
Besides a silver watch;
A sofa grand, te mense the hoose,
Wi' bonny chairs te match;
Besides a new leet suit 0' claes,
Te swagger i' the sun,
Aw'd been new te the very beuts,
If Spennithorne had wun.

Aw meant te buy me wife a dress,
Ov silk the varry best,
She'd been like a fat lanlady,
The way aw'd had her drest;
We meant te lodge at Tinmuth till
The money wes a' deun ;
An' promenade the Sands each day,
If Spennithorne had wun.

But Spennithorne wes nearly last,
An' Lily Agnes wun,
The cheers 0' winners diddent soond
Te me like ony fun;
Aw cannet tell hoo aw got hyem,
The moor aboot us spun,
Aw started wark next day, an' sigh'd-sIf
Spennithorne had wun !

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 20 May 17 - 05:20 PM

BARNEY RILEY'S DREAM.
A TRUE STORY

ON March the tenth, in forty-six,
Bill Cleghorn had te fight
Wi' Michael Riley, on Blyth Links,
For fifty at catch-wight.

Mick's bruther, Barney, thrice had dreamt
That he wad konker'd be,
That Cleghorn's blows wad fatal prove,
Throo which poor Mick wad dee.

An' Barney sair wes put aboot,
For superstishus, he
Believed in dreams, an' fear'd the end
Ov this, his warnins three,

He tried te myek his bruther give
The forfeit up te Bill,
But Mick replied, "Wor gawn te fight,
We are not match'd te killl"

"Then Barney, cum, an' see me lick
The champein 0' Tyneside,
Aw'll win the fight withoot a mark,
See hoo aw'll tan his hide!"

" It's not the likes 0' Cleghorn that
Can tyek a Riley doon;
So nivvor mind yor feulish dreams, .
Aw'm best man i' the toonl"

The mornin com, an' hundrids there,
Te see the battle, cheer'd,
When two such men 0' fistic fame,
Stript te the buff, appear'd.

Bill Cleghorn stud byeth firm an' calm,
True confidence display'd;
An' Riley's smiles an' boondless chaff
Show'd he wes not aflaid.

For two lang oors 'twes give an' tyek,
Wi' strite an' heavy blows,
That fell upon the ribs an' fyece,
The cheeks, the eyes, an' nose.

Then Riley fund his easy job
Wes noo nowt like a joke,
Wi' jeers an' puttin oot his tung
He tried Bill te provoke.

But Cleghorn nivvor off his guard,
Watch'd Riley's tung cum throo,
Then struck him fiercely on the chin,
An' chopt it clean in two.

The fight wes ended.-Cleghorn wun.
Next mornin Mick wes deed,
An'there he lay a batter'd corpse,
Wi' Barney at his heed.

Poor Barney's dream com ower true, Said he,
"Aw'm not te blame,
Aw warn'd him, but aw'm glad te knaw
Me brother Mick died game!

An' this wes i' the gud aud days,
When men wad proodly sing,
An' lift thor voices high an' praise
The heroes ov the ring.

But tho the ring's for iver deun,
I' these new-fashun'd days,
Thor's murder always in the air,
In lots 0' different ways.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 20 May 17 - 03:22 PM

LOKIL RECKORDS FOR THIS SENTORY!

JENERWARY

IN Mosley Street, i' the eer ite-teen,
Gas lamps wes for the forst time seen.
Lally, the boat-rower, strang an'soond,
l' sivinty-fower, at Blyth, wes droon'd.

FEBREWARY

Cowen an' Hamond, at last at ease,
l' sivinty-fower, wes myed M.P.'s.
Burt, for Morpeth, teuk things quiet,
l' Durham thor wes nowt but riot.

MAIRCH.

l' fifty-fower, aud "Beeswing" deed,
She wassent a horse, but had mare speed.
l' sivinty-three, quite lost te hope,
Mary Ann Cotton wes join'd te rope.

YEPRIL.

I' forty-fower, wi' minds alike,
The Pitmen had thor famous Strike.
I'one bonny neet, i' fifty-nine,
Chambers beat White on the Coaly Tyne

MAY.

l' thorty-six a' the bairns wes fear'd,
When the Bobbies forst i' blue appear'd.
Kelly beat Chambers, i' sixty-sivin,
When Bob wes pullin fast te hivvin.

JOON.

I' sixty-ire, Bob Chambers deed,
Deeth beat him wiv untimely speed.
The High Level Bridge, i' forty-nine,
Wes myed complete across the Tyne.

JEWLY.

l' sixty-one, iv a deedly swoon,
Grainger bid gud-bye te the toon.
Harry Clasper, wi' mony a sob,
l' sivinty, folIow'd his aud frind Bob.

AWGUST.

On the Toon Moor, thousands went te see
Mark Sherwood hung, i' forty-three;
Ned Corvan wi' fun kept foaks alive,
But he dee'd he'sel, i' sixty-five.

SIPTEMBOR.

Dan O'Connell, ov greet renoon,
l' thorty-five, com te wor toon.
I' thorty-ite, te save life, se brave,
Grace Darling dared the tretch'rous wave.

OCTOBER.

The moniment that we se often view,
TeStephenson, finish'd i' sixty-two.
Mark Frater got his fatal mark
l' sixty-one, 'twes a point frae Clark.

NOVEMBER.

co Jemmy Allan's" pipes wes short
0' breeth l'ten, they had ne chance wi' deeth.
l' forty-one, an eventful mom,
Me bruther Tom an' me wes born.

DlSEMBOR.

The steamer" Lifeguard," i' sixty-three,
Wi' all on board wes lest at sea.
l' fifty-three, Billy Purvis, eloon,
I' rest his queer aud heed laid doon.


-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 20 May 17 - 01:43 PM

THE UNSARTIN LASS !

TEUN-"He's gyen te be a Bobby."

Aw'M really quite unsartin
0' which luver aw shud choose,
For aw cannet nyem me choice yit,
An' aw dorsent one refuse;
But wi' sum evasive answer
Put them off frae day te day,
For aw cannet tell me fancy,
Thor's se mony in me way.

Korus

For thor's Tommy, an' thor's Billy,
Nearly drive a young lass silly,
They really cum se freely
Wi' thor offers iv'ry day;
An' thor's Charley, Joe, an' Harry,
Always wantin me te marry,
What myeks us tarry,
l' this daft unsartin way?

Thor's Tommy, tall an' sprightly,
An' as handsome as can be,
A myest weel-te-de pawnbroker,
An' he's pledged his luv te me;
Then thor's Billy,-that's the sailor,
He wants me te be his mate,
He wad plough the salt sea ocean,
Te be in the United State.

Then thor's Charley, he's a sowljor,
But aw cannet list te him,
Thowts 0' war an' his bright medals
l' me eyes grow varry dim;
An' thor's Joe, the portrait-tyeker,
Built in such a slender frame,
Aw'll give te him a negative,
Hopin that may quench his flame.

Then sumtimes aw fancy Harry,
Roo it is aw cannet tell :
He's a draper,-quite the dandy,
But aw divvent like a swell;
What wi' one, an' wi' the tuther,
Aw can nivvor find delight,
Till aw meet sum happy fellow,
Wi' the nyem 0' Mister Right !

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 20 May 17 - 01:25 PM

WOR NEYBOR NELL!

TEUN-" Pat Mulloy."

Iv a' the torments i' the world,
A neybor's warse then a',
That borrows things frae day te day,
An' dissent care a straw
Whether ye get them back or not,
If it just pleases them;
Thor not aflaid te ask for mair,
They nivvor knaw ne shem.
We've got a neybor 0' this kind,
She'll cum an' borrow cIaes,
Or pots, or pans, an' kettles, an'
She'll keep the syem for days.
If we invite a frind te dine,
We hardly get a smell,
Till in she cums te borrow this
Or that, dis Neybor Nell.

Me dowter hes a nice young man,
An' seun they'll married be,
So often he cums te the hoose
Te hey a cup 0' tea;
He's always se polite an' prim,
Relidgis iv his ways,
Porticklor what he sees or hears,
An' careful what he says;
But still worneybor dissent care,
Shud he be oot or in,
She'll cum an' beg three-happence, te
Get half-a-glass 0' gin;
Aw've seen him quite disgusted like,
His brou's byeth rose an' fell,
Te hear the neybor, " Len us this,
Or that!" frae Neybor Nell.

One day we'd all got sittin doon,
As use-yil te wor tea,
When in cums Neybor Nell quite bowld,
An' brasen'd as cud be ;
Says she, "Excuse me cumrmin in,
Sum cumpany aw've got,
Thor wimmin foaks;-aw'd be obliged
Ifye'd len us the pot !
She haddent time te say which pot
It wes she wanted, till
Up jumpt me dowter's sweetheart, an'
The tea things myed a spill;
Me dowter blush'd, her young man froon'd,
Aw felt greet shem me-sel,
An' wish'd aw had ne neybor like
That torment, Neybor Nell.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 20 May 17 - 01:10 PM

IF DEED FOAKS COM TE LIFE AGYEN !


TEUN-" The Coal Hole"

IF deed foaks com te life agyen,
Hoo funny it wad be, man;
They'd rub thor eyes wi' greet surprise
Te see what we can see, man.
Grainger wad hardly knaw the toon,
Wi' buildin up an' pullin doon:
A palace they myek ivry ruin,
They astonish live foaks, tee, man.

Korus.

Fal-the-dal-lal, the lal-the day,
Hoo funny it wad be, man,
If deed foaks com te life agyen,
Te see what we can see, man.

Geordey Stephenson, the ingineer,
Wad heh gud cawse for wundor,
Te see the railroads far an' near,
Abuv the grund an' under;
Earl Grey wad luck up te the sky,
Te see his moniment se high,
Thor gan te shift it by-an-by,
He wad say, "What next, aw wundor?"

Sum wad find falt wi' a' they saw,
An' try wi' spite te raise us,
An' tell us that wor a' se fast,
They'd seun meet us in blazes!
While uthers wad be glad te see
A workin man dim up the tree,
Like Burt, the pitmen myed M.P.,
An' disarvin wor greet praises.

Bob Chambers an' Jim Renforth tee.
Wad ask us war we beatin ?
Had Cockneys gain'd all victory
Throo just one man defeatin ?
Renforth wad say, "Is Tyneside men
Te let Joe Sadler rest alyen?
It's time aw wes alive agyen,
If ye cannet find a reet un !"

But sum wad better be away,
Such as a chep just barried,
He waddent like te cum an' see
His bloomin widow married;
He waddent like te see the kiss
Ov second-hand connubial bliss,
He waddent like a scene like this,
Ay, an' him just lately barried.

If deed foaks com te life agyen,
Thor'd be an awful mixtor,
Thor'd be ne room te had them a',
We'd a' be fairly fixt; for
We'd nearly a' relations be.
We cuddent tell owt whe wes whe,
Thor'd seun be blud an' murder tee,
An' we'd myek them cut thor sticks, sor,

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 20 May 17 - 12:53 PM

MISSIN THE TRAIN

TEUN-"Miller of tke Dee."

"MIND waken us up at five o'clock,
For aw munnet miss the train,
Aw'm not used wi' gettin up se seun!"
Says Jack tiv his gudwife Jane.
"It starts at six, so let's off te bed,
For we hevint se lang te sleep;
So waken us, Jane, te catch the train,
Tho aw snore byeth lood an' deep,
An' aw'm ivor se soond asleep! "

They got inte bed an' seun fell asleep,
Where Jack quite injoyed his dreams,
Till a scratchfrae her big toe-nailmyed him jump"
It's half-past five! " she screams.
He struck a match te luck at the clock;
"It issent se late!-aw knew
It wassent owt like half-past five,
For it's only half-past two,
An' yor puttin us all iv a stew! "

Jack grummil'd as he got inte bed,
But seun fell asleep agyen;
At half-past three anuther greet kick
Showed Jane waddent let him alyen.
He cursed an' swore when he saw the time,
An' he held the leet te show,
But the only answer that he got,
Wes "John, ye've upset the po,
And you know that you shouldn't do so."

At fower dclock Jack wakened he'sel,
But his wife lay fast asleep; Says he,
"Then aw may as weel sit up;
Wi' me pipe, aw'll waken keep!"
At half-past ite she jumpt oot 0' bed,
When she had gud cawse te stare,
For there Jack sat, iv his Sunday's claes,
Fast asleep i' the aud airm-chair,
Catchin trains iv his dreams sleepin there.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 20 May 17 - 09:22 AM

SEEKIN FOR A HOOSE

TEUN- "The Pawnshop Bleezin."

I' THESE days hoo can poor foaks leeve?
Increasin popilayshun
Myeks hundrids wundar where they'll get
A humble habitayshun;
They nivvor build for poor foaks noo,
Withoot the rent's a reglor screw;
Iv a' the wearyj obs aw knaw,
The greatest plague amang them a'
Is seekin for a hoose, man.

War Peg an' me, one mornin' seun,
Te better war condishun,
Set off,wi' spirits high wi' hope,
Upon this expedishun.
Iv a' the windows, Peg, maw pet,
Teuk ivry paper for a "Let":
Byeth "Ginger Pop" an' "Home-made Breed"
Wes all as one-she cuddent read,
When seekin for a hoose, man.

Says one, "Ye'd better call agyen!
Ye'd better see the maister !"
So throo the street, till he arrived,
Content we had te slaister ;
He stared at us when he earn in,
Says he, "Are ye byeth clear 0' sin,
If so, aw'll gie ye the forst chance
Wi' pay'n a fortneet in advance! "
Says aw, "Huts, keep yor hoose, man!"

"Excuse us, wor not clean'd up yit!"
Says one fat wummin tiv us,
"Aw've got a splendid room te let
Up stairs, so cum up wiv us!".
She teuk us up the stairs se high,
'Twes a real "garret near the sky,"
"The rent's five shillins here a week,"
She said, an' snuff'd an' blew her beak;
Says aw, "It's not wor hoose, then!"

Anuther axt if we had bairns,
Says aw, "We've had iIliven,
But sad te say, thor's fower deed,
An' noo thor's only siven!"
Says she, "We'll not heh children here!"
Says aw, "Yor sum aud maid, aw fear,
Aw wundor whe on orth got ye?
Where did ye spend yor infancy?
Ye'll gie the bairns ne hoose, then!"

Sum places ye mun gan in seun,
An' not stop oot at neet, man,
In uthers ye dor hardly speak,
Ye cannet de owt reet, man;
For little rooms rents high 'ill be,
Withoot a back-yard fit te see;
We've trail'd aboot for mony a day,
But cannet get for luv or pay,
A decent sort ov hoose, man.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 20 May 17 - 09:06 AM

THE MUSICAL LANLORD'S FAREWEEL

TEUN-"The Whole Hog or None."

FAREWEEL, maw kind Newcassel frinds, aw's gannin far away,
Aw's gan te leeve the canny toon, an' prood am aw te say
Aw've myed me fortun i' the hoose where ye've spent meny a neet,
Aw's gan te turn professor an' a teacher tee complete.

Korus

Bruther fiddlers a', like me, rnyek lots 0' money,
Aw's gannin doon te Sheels,
Te teach an' play cudreels,
An' aw'll let them see the tallint thor cums frae the canny toon.

Fareweel, maw country patrons, for ne mair ye'll hear us play
"0, Nanny, wilt thou gan wi' me?" wi' canny" Auld Robin Gray;"
Ne mair ye'll hear the "BIue Bells" soond, that often pleased ye weel,
Or imadgin that i' "Com Rigs" hoo delighted ye wad feel.

Fareweel, maw cat-gutscrapin frinds, awhevint time te stay,
As the minnits are departin fast, play seconds while ye may;
Ye'l! miss yor leader, lang wi' me yor tallents ye've display'd,
An' bonny teuns an' pleasin' soonds tiv eager ears convey'd.

Solos se high aw've often play'd an' charm'd ye wiv each note,
But if ye want te hear us still, cum doon i' train or boat,
An' there ye'll see the young foaks dance, as teacher aw'll appear,
An' fiddlin thraw me legs aboot like harlekinse queer.

Fareweel, me frinds, hoo sad awfeel te say the last gud-bye,
Hoo often when aw Ieeve ye ye'll imadgin that yor dry,
An' aw'll not be near te cheer ye wi' beer, an' jigs, an' reels;
But lads, aw'll often think 0' ye when aw gan doon te Sheels.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 20 May 17 - 08:53 AM

GOSSIPIN NANNY BROON.

TEUN- "Mally Dunn."

"WHAT'S kept ye oot se lang, me lass?
What's kept ye i' the street?
Aw saw ye tawkin te Nan Broon,
Aw thowt ye'd stop a' neet,
Aw warn'd she's tell'd ye a' the news,
For gossip gies her life;
Sit doon, an' let's hear what she said,
She's such a tawky wife! "

Korus

For Nanny Broon knaws a' the toon,
The neybors' joy an' strife,
She knaws far better then tbor-sels:
She's such a queer aud wife.

"Whey, man, she says that Geordey Hall's
Gyen sairly te the bad;
An' Mistress Thompsin's dowter Meg's
Gawn daft aboot her lad;
An' Harry Hedley's gyen te sea;
An' Tommy's oot on strike;
An' Betty, te get married's teun
A man she dissent like.

"She says Mall Johnson's left her place,
She thinks she's got the bag;
An' Kelly's Sunday's dinner wes
A paltry bit 0' scrag;
An' Fanny Nelson's furnitor's
Been sell'd te pay the rent;
An' Mistress Bradley's eldest son
Last week te jail wes sent.

"She says thor wes anuther row
In Pilgrim Street last week;
An' Geordey Bell's a nice young chep
If it wassent for his cheek;
Bell Wilkey's gawn te be confined:
Her sweetheart's ron away,
An' sweers the young un issent his,
An' he's not gawn te pay.

"She says Meg Dunn's got married, an'
lt issent ower seun;
l' few weeks' time she's bund te hey
A dowter or a son.
Her muther wes the syem way held
Before young Peg wes born;
It's only reet her dowter shud
In trubble tyek her turn.

II She says it's time the world shud end,
When it's se full 0' sin;
An' Peggy Wood wad sell her sowl
For half-a-pint 0' gin.
Hoo Janey Todd can get such dress
Few ladies cud afford,
Nan says she winnet even guess,
Or iver say a word."

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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Subject: RE: Songs/Poems of Joe Wilson
From: *#1 PEASANT*
Date: 19 May 17 - 10:24 PM

ALECK HOGARTH.
CHAMPEIN OF THE WEAR.

TEUN-" Aull sing ye a Tyneside Sang."

IN Sunderland let's sing,
What shud myek the whole hoose ring,
It's a sang that's sartin a' the lads te cheer,
For it gladdens ivry toon,
When thor natives gain renoon,
An' aw'll sing ov one that's deun se on the Wear.

Kurus

An' oh, me lads, it myeks me heart se glad,
Te sing ye a sang te please ye here,
Then, give a hearty cheer For the Champein of the Wear,
Ay, a hearty cheer for Aleck on the Wear.


Thor's not one that's pull'd an oa,
Iv his day, or yit before,
That wes better liked then Aleck Hogarth here,
For he's one amang the few,
That's been always game an' true,
An' strite forward, hes the Champein of the Wear.

Then he's foremost i' the brave,
When thor's ivor lives te save,
An' thor's mony a hoose this day'd been sad an' drear,
If it haddent been for him,
When for life an' deeth he'd swim,
An' the bravery he display'd upon the Wear:

He's a canny quiet man,
An' it's always been his plan,
As an honest one, te pull throo his career,
An' thor's nyen ye can select
That's disarvin mair respect
Than brave Aleck Hogarth, Champein of the Wear.

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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