For his blust'rin' and barkin',
And fulsome remarking
Brave, honest Charles Larkin
Has gi'en him a yarkin'.
Newcastle, Sept, 1836.
STEAM SOUP;
Or, Cuckoo Jack's Petition.
Tune—"X Y Z."
Let Cocknies brag o' turtle-soup, and Frenchmen o' their frogs, man—
Newcastle soup, such famous stuff, it feeds us fat as hogs man!
Yor Callipee and Callipash, compar'd tiv it, is nobbit trash—
Strang knees and houghs stew'd down to mush, are gobbled up by every slush;
Wi' pluck an' taties folks are duen, for smoking soup in crowds they run,
And sup till they are fu', man! Fal de ral, &c.
A skipper and his wife sat down, to give a quairt a try, man,
When something stuck in Mally's throat, and choak'd her very nigh, man:
Poor Mally blair'd, and turn'd quite pale—and out she pull'd a great rat's tail!
Says Jack, aw'll off to Mr. Mayor, and tell the story tiv a hair—
Aw think it is a shameful joke, to sell such stuff wor Mall to choke—
It's warse than tatie stew, man! Fal de ral, &c.
Whe knaws but these fine dandy cooks hire resurrection faws, man,
To stock them with forbidden flesh, agyen our famous laws, man:
A cook in France, now understand, as sure's the sun inleets wor land,
Did kidnap bairns, an' mince them down, and myed sic pies, that a' the town
Wad eat nowt else—thowt nowt se fine; they fand him out—then, what a shine!—
They hang'd him on a tree, man! Fal de ral, &c.
O Willy, man, wor canny king, ye knaw best how to feed us—
Ye ken what we can de at sea, at ony time ye need us;
Cram a' their necks into a loop, that try to cross wor breed wi' soup;
Or gar them pay a heavy fine, that dare unnerve yor tars of Tyne;
Then in the fight we'll loudly cheer, when we're restor'd to flesh and beer—
Hurra! for England's king, man! Fal de ral, &c.