When he brought me a clout o' the lug,
He did it sae frisky and gaily,
Says he, "You must know, Mr. Mug,
That I'm a stout bit of shillelah."
Aw brought him another as tough,
It made a' his cheeks for to rattle;
Says he, "I have got quite enough:"
Sae thus we gave ower the brattle.
Rum ti idity, &c.
We went to a yell-house just nigh,
For to get a wee sup o' strang yell;
And then we came back, by and by,
And to luikin at Valentines fell.
And then got as great as could be,
And bought Valentines for to fit, man:
But aw say, without telling a lee,
He met wiv his match in a Pitman.
Rum ti idity, &c.
THE SKIPPER IN THE MIST.
Tune—"Derry down."
Some time since there cam on a very thick fog,
In Lunnin some folks were near lost in a bog;—
A bog, you will say, that's an Irish name—
They got knee deep in mud, and that's just all the same.
Derry down, &c.
Now, during the fog, sir, a Newcassel keel
Was sailing down Tyne to a ship lying at Shields,
The fog cam se thick, skipper off wig and roar'd—
"Aw mun lay by my swape—Geordy, lay by yor oar!
Derry down, &c.
Now, hinnies, my marrows! come tell's what to dee,
Aw's frighten'd wor keel will soon drive out to sea!"
So the men an' their skipper, each sat on his buttock,
An' a council they held, wi' their legs down the huddock.
Derry down, &c.
Says Geordy, "We canna be very far down,
With the wash o' my oar, aw hev just touch'd the grund;
Cheer up, my awd skipper, put on yor awd wig,
We're between the King's Meadows an' Newcassel Brig!"
Derry down, &c.
The skipper, enrag'd, then declar'd he kend better,
For at the same time he had smelt the salt water;
"And there's Marsden Rock, just within a styen thraw,
Aw can see't through the mist, aw'll swear by my reet paw.
Derry down, &c.