How! marrows, aw'se tip you a sang,
If ye'll nobbit give your attention,
Aw've sarrow'd maw king seven years,
And aw'm now luikin out for the pension.
But when my adventures aw tell,
An' should ye fin reason to doubt it,
An' think it mair than aw deserve,
Aw'se just rest contented without it.
Rum ti idity, &c.
Ye mun ken, when aw first went to drill,
Maw gun aw flang owre maw heed,
Fell'd the chep that stuid close in ahint me,
He lay kickin and sprawlin for deed.
But when wor manuvres we lairn'd,
Wor Cornel o' huz grew se fond, man,
He match'd us gyen four smashing targets,
Close ower ayont Heslop's Pond, man.
Rum ti idity, &c.
We mairch'd off at nine i' the mornin,
And at four we were not quite duin,
While a bite never enter'd our thropples:
Wi' hunger were fit to lie doon.
But wor fellows they tuik sic an aim,
Ye wad thought that they shot for a wager;
And yen chep, the deil pay his hide,
He varra nigh shot the Drum-Major.
Rum ti idity, &c.
Suin efter, 'twas on the Vairge Day,
'Bout the time that wor Cornel was Mayor,
Fra Gyetshead we fir'd ower their heeds,
Myed the fokes in Newcassel to stare.
To Newburn we then bore away,
And embark'd just beside a great Dung-hole,
Wi' biscuit and plenty o' yell,
And wor Adjutant Clerk o' the Bung-hole.
Rum ti idity, &c.
Wor Triangular Lad lowp'd first ashore,
When the folks ran like cows or mad bulls;
Iv a jiffy they cam back to fight us,
Wi' pokers and three-footed stuils.
When they fand he was not Bonnyparty,
Nor nyen ov his sowgers frae France,
The music then started to play,
And we for to caper and dance.
Rum ti idity, &c.
Sic wark as we had efter that,
Wad tyek a lang day for to tell,
How we fronted, an' flankt it, an' maircht
Through the sowgers at Thropley Fell,
At the Play-house we've shin'd mony a time,
Wor scaups a' besmatter-d wi' flour;
But that neet it wad myed the deil gurn,
To see us a' powthert wi' stour.
Rum ti idity, &c.
Yen day we were form'd in a ring,
And wor Cornel said this, 'at ne'er spoke ill,
"Ye your sarvis, my lads, mun transfer
Tiv a core caw'd the Durham Foot Local."
So tiv Sunderland if ye'd but gan,
And see us a' stand in a line,
Ye'd swear that a few finer fellows
Ne'er cam fra the Wear and the Tyne.
Rum ti idity, &c.
MASQUERADE AT NEWCASTLE THEATRE;
Or, The Pitman turned Critic.