Finis
FROM THE PRESS OF
M. ANGUS AND SON, NEWCASTLE.
INDEX.
| A | |
| Page | |
| As I cam thro’ Sandgate, thro’ Sandgate, thro’ Sandgate | [5] |
| As me and my marrow was ganning to wark | [35] |
| Attend to my summons, ye British Electors | [57] |
| Allons, sweet childs, of smooth complexion | [70] |
| At Neddy and Betty were walking along | [79] |
| A bonny swain, blithe Sandy nam’d | [214] |
| Apollo, your aid I request | [217] |
| A fair reformation would render this nation | [236] |
| At Christmas when the wind blew cauld | [238] |
| About the bush Willy | [240] |
| As I went to Newcastle | [241] |
| All lovers of lucre may LAUD the Lord Mayor | [245] |
| A farmer near Felton, fam’d for vulgar fractions | [248] |
| All men of high and low degree | [250] |
| Ah! pen, ink, and paper, proves pleasing | [253] |
| And are ye sure the tale is true | [288] |
| As aw was gannin to Durham | [292] |
| At home wad I be | [296] |
| All the night over and over | [322] |
| B | |
| Britannia scarce had planted the olive on our isle | [228] |
| Bobby Shaftoe’s gone to sea | [283] |
| Brandling for ever, and Ridley for aye | [300] |
| ’Bout Lunaun aw’d heard sec wonderful spokes | [314] |
| C | |
| Come marrows, we’ve happen’d to meet now | [29] |
| Come fill a bumper to the brim | [86] |
| Come cheer up my hearts, my brave sons of the Tyne | [87] |
| Come, haste to Newcastle, ye sons of fair freedom | [102] |
| Come you lusty Northerne lads | [162] |
| Callaly Castle stands on a height | [199] |
| Come, gentlemen attend to my ditty | [258] |
| Come, brave spirits, that love Canary | [264] |
| Come all the gallant brave wenches | [281] |
| Come all ye lads who wish to shine | [288] |
| Croney its now near thirty year | [316] |
| D | |
| Doctor Moff once more employs the burden of my song | [229] |
| Durham’s old city thus salutes her king | [291] |
| E | |
| Elsie Marley is grown so fine | [285] |
| F | |
| Fresh I’m cum fra Sandgate Street | [10] |
| Fareweel, fareweel, ma comely pet | [31] |
| Fra Beaton Bank, to Benton town | [106] |
| From Spey to the border | [137] |
| G | |
| Great was the consternation, amazement and dismay, Sir | [73] |
| God prosper long our noble king | [128] |
| Good people, give ear to the fatalest duel | [184] |
| Good Master Moody | [188] |
| God prosper long our noble king | [197] |
| Good fortune still attends the brave | [234] |
| God prosper long our warlike king | [309] |
| H | |
| Ho’way and aw’ll sing thee a tune, man | [25] |
| Hae ye heard o’ these wondr’ous dons | [37] |
| Ha’ ye been at Newcastle fair | [89] |
| Hey, Jacky, ma honey, hae ye seen the new money | [105] |
| Here lies the corpse of William Bell | [166] |
| He’s gone! he’s gone | [195] |
| Hoot awa’, lads hoot awa’ | [209] |
| Howl on ye winds, and beat ye rains | [211] |
| How mournful feeble Nature’s tone | [225] |
| I | |
| In a battle, you know, we Britons are strong | [18] |
| If I had another penny | [36] |
| I was a young maiden truly | [48] |
| I’m lonesome since I left Blyth camps | [84] |
| In hollow murmurs o’er the bending reeds | [100] |
| It fell and about the Lammas time | [116] |
| I have heard of a lilting, at our ewe’s milking | [136] |
| In second part I will declare | [192] |
| In Bedlington, there liv’d a fair | [200] |
| Ihon Redle that som tim did be | [210] |
| In Britain’s blest insland there runs a fine river | [215] |
| In former times where Hexham town doth stand | [227] |
| It happen’d at good Christmas tide | [239] |
| I cannot get to my love if I should dee | [241] |
| I went to Black Heddon | [242] |
| I was young and lusty | [257] |
| I’ll tell you a story, if you please to attend | [261] |
| In the fine town of Sunderland which stands on a hill | [283] |
| Its hey for the buff and the blue | [294] |
| Its O but I ken well | [296] |
| If you want a busom | [298] |
| J | |
| John Diggons be I, from a Country Town | [16] |
| John Thompson, just now | [242] |
| L | |
| Like wolves of the forest, ferocious and keen | [14] |
| Lads! myek a ring | [45] |
| Liddell, farewell! to all true Britons dear | [99] |
| Little wat ye wha’s coming | [222] |
| Lov’d stream, that meanders along | [293] |
| M | |
| My bonny keel laddie, my canny keel laddie | [7] |
| My muse took flight the other day | [49] |
| Mackintosh was a soldier brave | [223] |
| Militia boys for my theme I now chuse | [274] |
| My laddie sits owre late up | [301] |
| N | |
| Near Blackett’s Field, sad hov’ring | [12] |
| Now fill a bumper to the brim | [81] |
| Nought but some demon’s baleful step | [206] |
| Now the feather’d train in each bush | [216] |
| Next day to the Thatchmeadows I | [233] |
| Northumberland lads are handsome squads | [247] |
| Now little Billy is gone to the kirk | [257] |
| Neighbours I’m come for to tell ye, our skipper and Moll’s to be wed | [302] |
| O | |
| Odd smash! ’tis hard aw can’t rub dust off | [27] |
| On each market day, Sir, the folks on the Quay, Sir | [43] |
| Oh! where, and oh where does your bonny lassie dwell | [61] |
| On Rhenish, Medeira, Port, Cleret and Sherry | [66] |
| Of a’ the many bonny corps | [101] |
| On July seventh, the suthe to say | [143] |
| On Saturday | [196] |
| O bonny Hobby Elliott | [221] |
| On Bamboroughshire’s rocky shore | [161] |
| Old Janus advances all cloathed in white | [171] |
| Of all the Kirkharle bonny lasses | [180] |
| Oh, have you seen the blushing rose | [211] |
| Of a Pitman we’ll sing | [242] |
| On travelling down Tweed-side | [251] |
| On the banks of the Tees, at Stockton of old | [262] |
| Old Jarrow, long fam’d for monastical lore | [304] |
| Of Temple and King, my friends, let us sing | [321] |
| O lovely Tyne, thy beauty’s seen | [322] |
| R | |
| Roll on thy way, thrice happy Tyne | [11] |
| Rough roll’d the roaring river’s stream | [56] |
| Rookhope stands in a pleasant place | [276] |
| S | |
| Should the French in Newcastle but dare to appear | [62] |
| Sir James Duncan and Co. their kind compliments send | [97] |
| Sir Swinton was a doughty knight | [152] |
| Sweet thro’ the forest, Coquet flows | [237] |
| Since Winter’s keen blast must to Zephyr give place | [243] |
| Saw ye owt o’ ma’ lad | [300] |
| Six centeries since, some say, a son of South Seaton | [307] |
| T | |
| ’Twas between Hebbron and Jarrow | [8] |
| Turks, Infidels, Pagans, Jews, Christians and Tartars | [19] |
| The jailor, for trial, had brought up a thief | [23] |
| The bonny pit laddie, the cannie pit laddie | [36] |
| The Baff week is o’er—no repining— | [38] |
| To sing some nymph in her cot | [58] |
| Talk no more of brave Nelson, or gallant Sir Sidney | [68] |
| The young brood fairly fledg’d, we may fairly suppose | [77] |
| Tho’ lofty bards sublimer sing | [91] |
| The plaint of a mourner, deep sorrow oppres’d with | [103] |
| The Perssye came byfore hys oste | [111] |
| The Persé owt off Northomberlonde | [118] |
| The Yngglyshe men hade ther bowys yebent | [122] |
| ’Twas he that rul’d his Country’s heart | [142] |
| There’s Roadley’s ‘cloud capt’ lofty hill | [150] |
| The king is gone from Bambrough Castle | [156] |
| The kye are come hame | [161] |
| The routing the earl of Mar’s forces | [175] |
| The little priest of Felton | [189] |
| There lives a lass in Felton town | [190] |
| The lady sat in leafy bow’r | [202] |
| The day was quite pleasant, the Fourteenth of May | [212] |
| To fertile soil and fragrant air | [220] |
| The king has written a broad letter | [225] |
| The first of March, from Cockle Park | [231] |
| The ploughman he comes home at night | [237] |
| There was five wives at Acomb | [256] |
| ’Twas on a summer’s evening | [275] |
| Thro’ Durham County fam’d of old | [287] |
| They’ve prest my dear Johnny | [301] |
| The sailors are all at the bar | [306] |
| There is not in the world’s terraqueous round | [310] |
| ’Tis said that in the good old times | [319] |
| The Antigallican’s safe arriv’d | [320] |
| U | |
| Unsullied mirth attend this feast | [219] |
| Upon the stately river Tees | [265] |
| Up the raw, ma bonny hinny | [297] |
| Up the Butcher bank | [299] |
| W | |
| Whe’s like my Johnny | [5] |
| Where hast’te been, ma’ canny hinny | [9] |
| When unprovok’d, when foreign foes | [15] |
| When Fame brought the news of Great Britain’s success | [21] |
| Whilst the dread voice of war thro’ the welkin rebellows | [33] |
| Whilst the dread voice of war thro’ our island rebellows | [34] |
| When war’s destructive rage did cease | [53] |
| When cooling zephyrs wanton play | [59] |
| Whilst bards, in strains that sweetly flow | [60] |
| Who’s he that with great Mercury strides | [68] |
| We march’d from the camps with our hearts full of woe | [85] |
| What pleasure oft ’tis to reveal | [88] |
| When Royal Ge—e on new year’s day | [94] |
| When we were silly sisters seven, sisters we were so fair | [147] |
| Wold you please to hear of a sang of dule | [166] |
| When Britannia her sons calls to aid her in arms | [290] |
| While visiting this dark abode | [292] |
| We’ll all away to the Lowlights | [306] |
| Whence those cries, my soul that harrow | [312] |
| Y | |
| Ye sons of Parnassus, whose brains are inspir’d | [67] |
| Yt fell abowght the Lamasse tyde | [107] |
| Ye muses nine, if ye think fit | [185] |
| Ye sacred nine descend | [218] |
| Young Solomon, tir’d of a batchelors life | [252] |
| Ye Stockton lads and lasses too | [267] |
| Ye freeholders of Stockton town | [269] |
| Young men and maidens all, I pray you now attend | [271] |
| You Sunderland lasses draw near | [284] |
| Ye sons of Sunderland, with shouts that rival ocean’s roar | [285] |
Finis
FROM THE PRESS OF
M. ANGUS AND SON, NEWCASTLE.