They pull'd about, frae reet to left,
Not kennin what to dee, man,
When poor Pee-dee began to fret,
Lest they should drive to sea, man.
Says Geordy, Should wor voyage be lang,
We've little for our guts, man;
There's nowt belaw but half a loaf,
Some tripe, and a nowt's foot, man.
Fal, lal, &c.
They drove as far as Jarrow Slake,
When Geordy bawl'd aloud, man
Smash! marrow, ye hae been at skuel,
Come find our latitude, man;
Gan down into the huddock, Jack,
Fetch up the Reading-Easy—
If we should be far off at sea,
I doubt it winna please ye.
Fal, lal, &c.
They studied hard, byeth lang and sair,
Though nyen o' them could read, man,
When Geordy on a sudden cries,
Aw hev 'er in my heed, man.
Come, let us pray to be kept free
Frae danger and mischance, man;
We're ower the bar!—there's nowt for us
But Holland, Spain, or France, man!
Fal, lal, &c.
At length the day began to clear,
The sun peep'd through the dew, man,
When lo! awd-fashion'd Jarrow Kirk
Stood fair within their view, man.
They laugh'd and crack'd about the joke
Which lately gar'd them quake, man:
They lay, instead of Spain or France,
Quite snug at Jarrow Slake, man.
Fal, lal, &c.
May wealth and commerce still increase,
And bless our native isle, man,
And make each thriving family
In happiness to smile, man.
May vict'ry round Britannia's brow
Her laurels still entwine, man,
The coal-trade flourish more and more
Upon the dingy Tyne, man.
Fal, lal, &c.
NEWCASTLE BEER versus SPAW WATER;
Or, The Pitman and Temperance Society.
BY R. EMERY.
Tune—"Mr. Frost."