Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890.
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Your Choices! The Main
Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890.
BOB HOBSON'S ADVICE TIll HIS SON.
| Absent Friends
|CHAMPIONS O' THE TYNE.||LONG HAVE I SADLY WAITED.||AUD NELLY'S ADVICE TIV HER DOWTOR!||MIDNIGHT THOUGHTS||IN MEMORY OF THE HARTLEY CATASTROPHE|
|LAUGHING EYES.||THE DAY 0' LIFE.||PRETTY SWEETHEART, JESSIE MAY||
|SALLY WHEATLEY'S COMMENTS|
|WHAT YE SHUD WEER A' THROO THE EER!|| A WELCUM!
TE BOB CHAMBERS EFTER HIS DEFEAT FOR THE CHAMPIONSHIP.
|DOUBLE ACROSTIC JOE TOM||GIVE A THOWT TE THEM THAT'S GYEN.|
|ACROSTIC. BILLY PURVIS||YOUNG SPRING||CHAMBERS AN' SADLER||AFFECTED BELLA||THE LANDLORD'S DOWTER|
|ACROSTIC CORVAN||THE BEUKMAKER!||AW WISH AW WES SUMBODY ELSE.||ME BONNY BRAVE BOAT ROWER||WOR GEORDY'S ALBUM
|BILLY'S TURND AN ACTOR.
||ME AWN ADVORTISMINT||THE DIFFERENCE 0' FOAKS WHEN THOR DRUNK.||THE LASS AW GAN WITH!||IVRYBODY THINKS THOR AWN CASE THE WARST!|
|CHARLEY'S RUN AWAY.||THE FIGHT ABOOT A LAD!||DOLLY'S LOWSE PEDDIKIT||HINNY, DINNET CRY|
|THE SUNDERLAND TRIP!||NED'S AND COMPANIONS!|| AVE LOST ME BONNY
||GEORDEY, O!||MlSTRISS TAYLOR'S POISIN!|
TO HIS TWIN BROTHER, THOMAS WILLSON.
Dear brother Tom,
Our birthday's come,
And now we're seventeen;
'Mid smiles and tears,
Seventeen long years
Have glided like a dream
Since first we saw a mother's smile
Beam on us like a ray
Of pleasing hope throughout life's path,
To cheer us on our way.
And now we gaze
Upon those days,
Which memory paints so fair,
When we have played,
And often strayed
Far from a parent's care;
We think upon our childhood's days,
Affection then expands
Throughout our breasts, with brother's love
We grasp each other's hands.
Will ever be
As we have ever been;
Let years roll on,
We think upon
Each fond and cherished scene,
Since first we came into this world,
Together, yet one in heart,
Let us then hope, and trust in God,
We ne'er will have to part.
BOB HOBSON sat before the fire,
An' puff'd his baccy smoke,
A pictor ov a gud aud sire,
That can give or tyek a joke;
He puff'd away, luck'd wiselyroond,
Wink'd slyly at young Dan,
Then like a mortal wisdom croon'd,
Thus tiv his son began :
Maw canny lad, ye've noo arrived
At a wild, unsartain age,
So wi' me tung aw've just contrived
A lesson worth a sage :
Luck forward te the sunny side,
The dark side scarcely scan,
An' nivor deal wi' dirty pride,
If ye want te be a man.
Tyek a' advice that ye can get,
Turn not yor heed away,
Or let foaks put ye i' the pet,
Wi' anything they say;
For inforrnashun myeks us wise,
An' shows which way te steer;
Be careful,-if ye want te rise,
Be canny wi' the beer.
Keep close yor mooth I-watch weel yor words,
Afore ye let them oat,
For thowtless speeches myek discords,
An' put foaks sair aboot;
Keep passion always frae yor door,
Send selfishthowts away,
An' nivor let foaks chawk a score
Ye think ye cannet pay!
Let honesty yor motto be,
Mark weel these words, aw say,
For if thor worth ye dinnet see
Ye'll mebbies rue the day;
Save up, te thrive, mind weel yor pense,
Put not yor claes j' pawn,
But keep them oat, yorsel te mense,
Thor's nyen fits like yor awn!
Dinnet tell lees, sic ackshuns scorn,
Unworthy ov a man,
Let truth as pure as ye war born,
For ivor be yor plan;
Stick close te frinds that ye've fund true,
Strite-forward, kind, an' free;
De nowt te myek yor conshuns rue,
An' a "Happy Man" ye'll be !
As in nights of dreary darkness,
There may be a flitting ray,
A chaste glow of light so starry bright,
To clear the douds away;
In lone moments of dark sadness,
HOPE will lighten ev'ry pain,
Till the soul knows not its gladness,
And our hearts their peace regain.
Though oft in sad lamentation
We mourn for an absent friend,
Each relation or separation,
A cheering word we send;
Hope! thou star of light, we listen
To thy pure consoling strain;
WELCOME in each eye will glisten,
Absent friends to meet again.
Wisdom's worth but little, if te worldly joys
I t turns a scornful ear, myeks luv a jest;
F or i' this simple verse ye'll find a neym
Entwined wi' ivry bliss te myek man blest.
MINE own FAIR darling, FAIR as morning's light,
Sweet gem of nature's morn, and charm of night,
FAIR-er than the FAIR-est, with no compare,
'Tis FAIR that one so FAIR should have a FAIR;
Af-FAIRS of love, perhaps, the heart might vex,
And FAIR-lywith a FAIR, thy mind perplex;
Yet with FAIR-neSS"for FAIRS"my love I'd tell,
I'd rather say well-FARE than say FARE-well!
Without my FAIR-y, poor would be my FARE,
Then take thy FAIR-ing from my humble care.
Champions combined on wor coally river,
Clasper an' Candlish-the boast 0' past days,
Chambers an' Cooper-the theme 0' men's praise.
LONG have I sadly waited
For a dear and treasured word,
From the wand'rer o'er the sea,
To dispel the sad discord
Raging here within me,
With torture night and morn;
For oh, to live in sad suspense,
Uncertain and forlorn.
Long have I sadly waited
For a message o'er the wave,
To tell me if the wand'rer lives,
Or sleeps ina foreign grave;
Oh send me word, some kindly hand,
A line but though it be,
To lighten dark and dreary hours,
My soul's impatience free.
AUD Nelly plied her needle, byeth careful, fine, an' swiftly,
Then she gazed wi' muther's pride iv her bonny dowtor's een,
Her mind wi' past joys reelin, she blist the dear form kneelin,
Sweet coonsil then revealin te that sweet flooer 0' sivinteen.
Maw eumley pet, maw hinny, aw' prood te see yor bonny,
But words 0' praise oft myek eonseet, an' beauty oft brings pain.
Aw'd like te see ye cosey, yor cheeks keep reed an' rosey,
As bloomin as a posey, but aw dinnit want ye vain!
Cawshus i' yor Iuv affairs, yor shoor te fettle canny,
So dinnit thraw me words aside for owt that lads may say;
For oft they'll sweer devoshun, an' tell ye thor greet noshun,
But like the tretch'rous oshin, they smile an' then betray.
It's not the fyece that myeks the man, fine eyes, or hair that's corly,
An honest heart an' kindly hand's far better then the pair;
So when ye gan a cortin, spoil not yorsel wi' flortin,
ye'll find ne sport in the lot that's for yor
If dancin ye shud fancy, mind weel what steps yor takin,
For one false step oft puts foaks rang, ne mair to be put reet.
For gud an' bad steps glancin, i' life, itsel, like dancin,
We've a' te tyek wor chance in, an' tyest byeth soor an' sweet.
Let uther foaks' affairs alyen, if ye mind yor awn ye've plenty,
An' nivor myek a practice 0' gannin ootte tea,
For there thor's often clashin, wi' mischief myekin pashun,
If they'd tawk 'boot nowt but fashun, then, an' only then, 'twad de.
Keep the hoose byeth clean an' tidy,-dinnit gan a drinkin,
A drunkin wife's the plague 0' life, a dorty wife's the syem!
Wi" neybors dinnet gossip,-wi' scandal gud nyems toss up,
Ye'd mair need gan an' poss up the claes ye've left at hyem.
Attend yor hoosehold duties wi' heart byeth leet an' cheerful,
An' let yor gudman's cumforts be yor studdy a' throo life,
An' stop his mooth frae sweerin, wi' nice kind words, endearin,
Thor's nowt te man see cheerin as a true an' canny wife!
Written at Midnight, July 18th, 1859.
I GAZED on the dark blue sky,
One summer's still midnight,
And my lips breathed forth a sigh
As I long'd for the morning's light,
For sleep had deserted mine eyes,
And I could not calmly rest,
And again as I look'd at the skies,
My heart beat quick in my breast.
What thoughts then flewthrough my brain
At that silent hour of night, Scenes past, were present again,
Like a vision-supremely bright;
Dear forms appear'd to mine eyes,
And faces I long had mourn'd,
Seemed around me again to rise,
And the once happy past return'd.
January 16th, 1862.
204 Men and Boys were buried alive in New Hartley
By the watch-fire's glow, 'mid the falling snow,
There reigns a death-like gloom,
Whilst prayers are murmured for those below
Immur'd in a living tomb.
With a tearless eye, and despairing sigh,
Too sad, too griev'd to weep,
The watcher's wild and heart-rending cry
Is heard on the cold pit-heap.
'Mid the shaft's foul air, the brave searchers dare
Its dangers to defy;
“Have mercy, 0 God!" is the last sad prayer
Of the miners doom'd to die.
Again from below, to the scene of woe
The searchers bold appear,
Their words breathe hope, while their glances show
Dread signs of desponding fear.
Seven days have pass'd, they are found at last,
Too LATE, sweet life to save,
For death's mighty spell is o'er them cast,
In that dark and fearful grave.
Breathe forth a prayer for bereav'd ones there,
Whose peace of mind hath fled,
Good Lord, soothe with thy heav'nly care
Those who mourn the hapless dead.
I LOVE to gaze on laughing eyes,
Bright eyes that seem forever smiling,
They make such happy thoughts arise,
With joyous look each heart beguiling
And yet how often they deceive,
Those lovely eyes, so careless glancing,
Their truth, alone, we but believe,
Such power have they, each mind entrancing.
May sorrow never cast a cloud,
Upon those eyes serenely beaming;
Oh never may dark care enshroud,
And dull the lustre of their gleaming;
Could I but know those orbs of joy
From holy virtue ne'er would sever
I'd pray might nought that bliss alloy,
Smile on, sweet eyes, smile on for ever!
A frind i' need's the frind that's deed, if he leeves ye se much an 'eer te console yorsel with. It keeps him i' yor memry, ye knaw.
TWES a bright sunny morn when Bill Tait's bairn we born
An' the glasses went roond tiv a reet merry teun:
An' the muther she smiled at the fethur se wild
Wi' joy at the birth ov a fine healthy sun:
Its bit soft cheek wes kiss'd, an' its muther weel blist,
An' thor health drunk agyen, an' agyen, te convey
Thor neybors' rispect wi' the best 0' gud feelin:
What a sweet little pictor-the dawn 0' Life's day!
Next door, a grand weddin, each young heart te gladden
Myed curious heeds pop throo windows an' doors,
Te see the bride blushin, an' a' the crood pushin
Te welcum Dick Scott an' the lass he adores;
Wi' sic a fine party,-contented an' hearty,
The fleet moments rowl onward, unheeded, away:
May the bride's life be as sweet as her luver's heart's leet,
What a dear little pictor-the noon 0' Life's day!
Close at hand, doon the street, i' the dusk 0' the neet,
Bill Carr, sair wi' suffrin, lay waitin for Deeth,
He sadly luckt roond, but nyen there cud help him,
An' darkness set in as he drew his last breeth:
The birth ov a bairn's like the dawn 0' the mornin,
An' a weddin's the noon, wi' the sun's cheerin ray,
An' Deeth's the dark neet that's se sartin te follow,
The dreary dark pictor that closes Life's day!
OH! Jessie, I am often doubting
That your love for me is true,
Ever changeful, laughing,-pouting,
Thus I often think of you;
Could I know its long endurance,
Lighter then my heart would be,
Give me but that dear assurance,
Then I'd live and love but thee.
I like but not a night's flirtation,
Scenes that never bring forth joy,
They dull each happy expectation,
Every blissful thought alloy;
Could I know that nought would sever
Hopes that linger night and day,
Then I'd call you mine for ever,
Pretty sweetheart, Jessie May.
Oblige ivrybody if ye can, an' if ye cannet, dinnet hinder onybody else for dein't.
R EMEMBER,ye Bards, the famous J. P.,
O v Tyneside,-a Poet of highest degree,
B ard 0' the Tyne an' Minstrel 0' the Wear,
S preedin the harmony we like te hear;
O v a' the greet writers, reet foremost he'll shine,
Noo an' for iver 'mang Bards 0' the Tyne.
Delightful-Gettin yor lass te set ye hyem for a change.
Delishus-Roast Pork an' onions wiv a lot 0' gudtemper'd fyeces roond it.
Delicate- Tyekin bad wi' the thowts on't.
SALLY WHEATLEY'S COMMENTS
ON THE LUV LETTER SHE GOT FRAE CHARLEY BLACK, THE KEYSIDE CLERK.
SCENE.-The Hoose where Sally leeves-Sally I’ the Kitchen, sittin reedin the last Luv Letter she got frae Charley Black (that's her lad, ye knaw).
SALLY.-Poatry agyen, bliss me, what a queer lad he is; what a
heedpiece he hes, aw sav, but aw wish he wad rite it i' the Newcassel tung,-aw's fairly bamboozled wi' se monny fine words.
How oft in lonely moments have I sought
A sweet repose in calm poetic thought,
To recall past joys, and each hope extol,
To light the darkness of a yearning soul.
Gudness grayshus me, what can Charley mean? He cannet for a moment imadgin that aw meant owt serious when aw went te Jesmond Gardens wi' Jimmy Allan. Aw's sure Jimmy's a greet frind 0' mine, an' aw might as weel turn jealous me-sel an' say sumthing, for it diddent luck varry weel 0' Charley settin Hannah Broon hyem frae the dancin at Mrs. Elliott's. Aw wassent hawf pleased when Peggy Morrison tell'd us aboot it.
Our hearts were not made to be thrown away,
Or FIRST LOVE born to live but for a day;
'Mid forms and faces made to charm the eye,
First Love may sleep but it can never die!
Whey, that is nice i-it just puts us i' mind 0' the neet when Charley an' me had wor forst wawk throo Friday Fields. What a neet that was, aw say! Aw's sure aw varry nigh fainted when Charley tell'd us that aw wes his" forst an' only luv;" His voice trimmild se, an' he luck'd se frighten'd like, poor lad. Maw bonny Charley!
Could we believe that whilst there's doubt there's hope,
How soon might sadness with despair elope.
Aw wad far seuner see Charley elope wi' me, but thor's nyen ov that noo-a-days. What fun thor mun heh been when aud Nelly Simpson's granmuther's greet granfethur ron away wi' Mistress Murphy (a widow body that leeved next door, an' a distant relayshun te Betty McGill that keeps a mangle at the tuther side 0' the street) te Gretna Green, an' got a blacksmith te marry them wiv a hammer. But aw dinnet knaw what te myek 0' Charley, he hes ne confidence like; an' it dissent luck wee! the lasses deein a' the coortin thorsels, aw's sure it dissent!
'Twas so with me-if truth must now be told,
I thought of thee-pray do not deem me bold;
For when the heart is full the tongue must speak,
On paper even consolation seek.
Consolayshun on paper, hooiver i' the world will he find consolayshun on paper? Aw wish Charley had niver written poatry, Ye cannet myek these fellows oot at a. Wad ye believe he actwilIy said it wes a greet releef tiv his feelins, when he cud put doon his thowts on paper? the silly lad, when he might hey cum an'tell'd me what he wes put aboot aboot, an' where will he find better consolayshun? Charley, if ye only knew't !
Your smile shone on me like a sunny morn, Affection hoped and cherished a return,
But when your looks grew cold, hope disappear-d,
And bitter feelings in its place career'd;
I thought another, much more happy, he
Had claim'd the heart I thought belong'd to me.
Iv a' yor life did ye ivor see such a jealous lot 0' mortals as the men foaks. Aw've nivor had ony peace since Jimmy Allan per swayded us te hey a wawk wiv him.
Then into folly-which I now repent,
I heedless rush'd-s-say, love, can you relent?
Relent! aw think aw can, but it dissent luck weel gein in thereckly. Aw'll plague him a bit forst. Aw knaw varry weel what folly he's hintin at, the slee deevll, He hessent forgettin settin Hannah hyem frae Elliott's dancin yit.
Forgive and favour, if you still are free,
My earnest wish to live and love but thee;
Then once more o'er me let your spell be thrown,
That I may can you-Sarah, dear, mine own!
SARAH! what a funny soond that hes te be sure, an' it's me reet nyem tee. He wants te call me his awn! it's a' settled, it's a sartinty it's settled; he just needs te ax me fethur an' muther, for it's a' reet wi' me. Jinny Thompson's promised us the mahogany tyeble that stands aside the clock, an' me Uncle Bob's gan te myek us a prisint ov a feather bed an' two chairs an' a candlestick he bowt second-hand the tuther day, so thor's glorious prospects, an' if Charley cannel myek eneuff te keep us cumfortable, aw'll gan te wark me-sel (aw's a cap myeker), for thor's ne disgrace iv a wummin workin as lang as thor's ne bairns i' the road.
Ready was he wi' the "Bobby Cure,"
I n Stanley's hall, te myek secure
Delight tiv a' the patrons there,
Liked be them a',-but noo, ne mair
E nlivenin strains frae him ye'll hear,
Y e'll knaw ne mair poor Geordy's cheer.