Smash! Mally, ye've tell'd a big lee,
For a man's not a woman, aw'll swear:
But he hardly had spoken these words,
Till out tumbled a cask o' strang beer:
Like a cat Jackey flang his leg ower,
Ay, like Bacchus he sat at his ease,
Tiv aw's fuddled, odsmash! ye may tauk
Yor French gabberish as lang as ye please.
Fol de rol, &c.

They crush'd sair, but Jack never minded,
Till wi' liquor he'd lowsen'd his bags;
At last a great thrust dang him ower,
He lay a' his lang length on the flags:
Iv an instant Mall seiz'd his pea jacket,
Says she, is thou drunk, or thou's lyem?
The Mayors o' wor box! smash, aw'm fuddled!
O Mally, wilt thou lead me hyem.
Fol de rol, &c.

SWALWELL HOPPING.

Lads! myek a ring,
An' hear huz sing
The sport we had at Swalwell, O;
Wor merry play.
O' the Hoppen day,
Ho'way, marrows! an' aw'll tell ye, O.
The sun shines warm on Whickham bank,
Let's a' lie doon at Dolly's, O;
An' hear 'bout mony a funny prank,
Play'd by the lads at Crowley's, O.

There was Sam, O zoons!
Wiv's pantaloons,
An' gravat up ower his gobby, O;
An' Willy, thou,
Wi' the jacket blue,
Thou was the varry Bobby, O:
There was knack knee'd Mat, wiv's purple suit,
An' hopper-a-s'd Dick, a' yellow, O:
Great Tom was there, wi' H——ple's au'd coat,
An' buck-sheen'd Bob frae Stella, O.

When we wor drest,
It was confest
We shem'd the cheps frae Newcassel, O:
So away we set
To wor toon gyet,
To jeer them a' as they pass'd us, O:
We shouted some, and some dung down;
Lobstrop'lus fellows, we kick'd them, O:
Some culls went hyem, some crush'd to toon,
Some gat aboot by Whickham, O.

The spree com on—
The hat was won
By carrot-pow'd Jenny's Jackey, O:
What a fyace, begok!
Had muckle-mouth'd Jock,
When he twin'd his jaws for the backy, O!
The kilted lasses fell tid, pell mell,
Wi' 'Talli-i-o the grinder,' O—
The smock was gi'en to slavering Nell,
Ye'd dropp'd had ye been behind her, O.

Wor dance began
Wi' buck-tyuth'd Nan,
An' Geordy, thou'd Jen Collin, O;
While the merry Black,
Wi' mony a crack,
Set the tamboureen a rolling, O.
Like wor forge-hammer we bet sae true,
An' shuk Raw's house sae soundly, O:
Tuff canna cum up wi' Crowley's Crew,
Nor thump the tune sae roundly, O.

Then Gyetside Jack,
Wiv's bloody back,
Wad dance wi' goggle-eye'd Mally, O:
But up cam Nick
An' gav him a kick,
And a canny bit kind of a fally, O:
That day a' Hawks's Blacks may rue,—
They gat mony a varry sair clanker, O:
Can they de owse wi' Crowley's Crew,
Frev a needle tiv an anchor, O?