SUNDERLAND BRIDGE.
By M.W. of North Shields.
Ye sons of Sunderland, with shouts that rival ocean’s roar,
Hail Burdon in his iron boots, who strides from shore to shore!
O may ye firm support each leg, or much, O much I fear,
Poor Rowland may o’erstretch himself in striding ’cross the Wear!
A patent quickly issue out, lest some more bold than he,
Should put on larger iron boots, and stride across the sea!
Then let us pray for speedy peace, lest Frenchmen should come over,
And, fol’wing Burdon’s iron plan, from Calais stride to Dover.
ELSIE MARLEY,
An Alewife at Picktree, near Chester-le-Street.
To its own Tune.
Elsie Marley is grown so fine,
She won’t get up to serve her swine,
But lies in bed till eight or nine,
And surely she does take her time.
And do you ken Elsie Marley, honey?
The wife that sells the barley, honey;
She’s lost her pocket and all her money,
Aback o’ the bush i’ th’ garden, honey.
Elsie Marley is so neat,
It is hard for one to walk the street,
But every lad and lass they meet,
Cries, do you ken Elsie Marley, honey?
Elsie Marley wore a straw hat,
Now she’s got a velvet cap,
She may thank Lambton men for that,
Do you ken Elsie Marley, honey.
Elsie keeps wine, gin, and ale,
In her house below the dale.
Where every tradesman up and down,
Does call and spend his half-a-crown.
The farmers, as they come that way,
They drink with Elsie every day,
And call the fiddler for to play
The tune of “Elsie Marley,” honey.
The pitmen and the keelmen trim,
They drink bumbo made of gin,
And for to dance they do begin,
The tune of “Elsie Marley,” honey.
The sailors they will call for flip,
As soon as they come from the ship,
And then begin to dance and skip,
To the tune of “Elsie Marley,” honey.
Those gentlemen that go so fine,
They’ll treat her with a bottle of wine,
And freely they’ll sit down and dine
Along with Elsie Marley, honey.
So to conclude these lines I’ve penn’d,
Hoping there’s none I do offend,
And thus my merry joke doth end,
Concerning Elsie Marley, honey.
And do you ken, &c.