Conrad Bladey's Beuk O'
Newcassel Sangs
The Tradition of Northumbria
  Directory 19

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THE ONE MILE RACE-JULY 1868

 

THE GREET BOAT RACE

CHAMBERS AND COOPER 

TEMPERANCE SONGS,

READINGS,

AND RECITATIONS.

 

TEMPERANCE

KILL'D THROO A FALL DOONSTAIRS.

READING OR RECITATION.

 


WHICH DE YE CALL MEAN ?

A TEETOTALER'S DEFENCE.

RECITATION

 

 TOM BROON. READING OR RECITATION THE NEET SCHEUL
 THE PAINTED NOSE!  DEETH l' THE STREET WHAT A FEUL AW'VE BEEN!
 DRINK NE MAIR! FLOG'D IN JAIL! LAST NEET AW FELL OOT WI' ME MATE! CLIVOR MEN!  LAZY JACK!
 THE DIFFERENCE  YE NIVVOR THINK THAT MIGHT BE YE!  WHAT A HELPLESS CHEP AM AW!  NE CLAES!  HARRY'S BROKEN LEG
 NANCY IN THE BARROW  A DRUNKEN MAN!  THE DOUBLE EVENT!  BUY US A GILL 0' BEER!  A VARRY HARD BED!
 TE LEEVE FOR A HUNDRID EERS!  SEEIN DOUBLE  

MURDER THROO DRINK: THE GALLOWS

RECITATION

 JANEY TODD'S ANCESTORS  ON THE BEER!
 I’M ALWAYS DRY !  DE WITHOOT IT FOR ONCE!  A SET FIGHT.  A DRUNKEN WIFE  TEETOTAL INJOYMENT
 TEETOTAL NOO!  THROO GETTIN SETIPSY LAST NEETT  THROO DRINKIN BITTER BEER  OOT 0V HIS HEED.  THE INTENDED SUICIDES.
 

LET THEM LAFF, BUT THEY KNAW IT'S THE BEST

 

 PORT WINE  

l' THE WORKHOOSE

 

 JACK GREEN  WHISKEY HET! TEUN

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THE ONE MILE RACE-JULY 1868

 

TEUN-" The Pawnshop Bieeei«;"

 

WOR Jack an Tom, alang wi' me,

Join'd i' the hurry skurry

That spred alang Newcassel Kee,

When foaks wi' frantic flurry

Rush'd here an' there te get a place

That they might see the greet boat race;

Alang the Close they madly push'd,

Byeth foaks an' people sair wes crush'd,

An' poor sowl's feet that sported CORN,

Wes nice an' clean tho ruffiy shorn,

When they went te see the race, lads.

 

On the river-a' sorts 0' craft,

Frae whurry te the steamer,

Wes crooded weel byeth fore and aft,

Mind, mark ye, aw's ne dreamer,

The banks and bridges-sic a seer,

For lads wes scramlin left and reet,

An' lasses wi' thor bonny goons,

An' greet big hats wi' little croons,

Join'd i' mony a queer like crew,

That they might get abetter view,

An' see the greet boat race, lads.

 

Thor i' thor boats! a keelman cries

Aw'Il back Bob for a ginney !

Which Bob? says aw, when he replies

The Bob that wins, maw hinney!

Doon at the Bridge, aye, sure eneuf,

Byeth men wes there, stript te the buff,

Then silence reigned as still as deeth,

Foaks agitated, held thor breeth,

Till all at once the stillness broke,

For byeth the men had myed a stroke,

They had started for the race, lads.

 

Thor off! thor off! wes then the shoot,

Wi' lots 0' deefnin cheerin,

l' steamboats, keels, and banks aboot,

Aw nearly lost me heerin;

Gan on, Bob Cooper-show the way!

Huts! Chambers wins! aw'll bet, the day!

Amid a world 0' voices roar,

They calm, but quickly plied the oar,

An' pull'd away wi' reet gud will,

A fine display 0' strength an' skill

Wes Chambers' an' Cooper's race, lads.

 

Bob Cooper's strokes wes short, but quick,

Se bonny, clean, an' strengthy,

Whilst Chambers pulls, his man te lick,

Wi' strokes byeth strang an' lengthy;

Doon te thor knees byeth boo thor heed,

An' struggle hard te get the lead;

Then foaks amazed, shut up thor gobs,

Ye hear ne shoots frae Sangate nobs;

The Champion's frinds appear dismay'd,

On ivry brow thor's cast a shade,

For Cooper leads the race, lads.

 

The Reed-yuff man at Skinners' Burn

Kept on his lead increasin,

Gan on, Bob Chambers! tyek yor turn,

An' gie yor man a fleecin !

The Champion myed a splendid spurt,

It seem'd te myek his frinds divert

Frae dowly thowts-for Harry's crew

Roard oot-maw lad, ye hev him noo!

But sad mistake-it seun wes seen

That game Bob Cooper wasn't GREEN,

For still he leads the race, lads.

 

Then Cooper vic'try seem'd te grab,

Wi' Chambers at his quarter,

'Twes said that Cooper copt a crab,

The Champion copt a tartar;

The hero ov a hundrid spins

Wes doom'd te loss-for Cooper wins,

An' past the post a length a-heed

He flew wi' undiminish'd speed;

Then WISE FOAKS said, wi' mockin grin,

Aw always tell'd ye whee wad win,

Afore they pull'd the race, lads.

 

Lang may Tyneside produce sic men,

Te try the Cocknies' paces,

But if they intend te pull athyem,

Lang may we see sic races;

Tho cheers for Cooper ye may raise,

Bob Chambers still desarves greet praise,

For when two men like these contest

Wi' honest pride, an' de thor best,

Aw's sorry that one shud give in,

Aw only wish that byeth cud win,


 
 
 
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THE GREET BOAT RACE

 

For the Championshionship 0' the Tyne an' £400, Sept. 5 and 6, 1864.

 

TRUN- "The Hairr," or" Hop Light Loo."

 

THE aud bridge groan'd as tho it thowt

Its end wes noo drawn near;

The level creakt and squeakt beneath

The weight it had te beer;

The steamers rowld frae side te side,

An' ivry boat wes full,

When Chambers, ov aquatic fame,

An' Cooper had te pull.

 

Korus

 

Pull, lads, pull! like leetnin wi' the tide!

Pull, lads, pull! the victry te decide!

Pull, lads, pull !-Iet pluck an' skill combine

Te show the world thor's nyen can touch

The Champion 0' the Tyne!

 

Ne fear 0' cheat or false defeat

Wes iv a breest that day,

For spite wad myek them pull for fairs

An' anxshus for the fray;

The river, like a heavy sea,

Myed ivry beetin heart

Quake when they saw sic fearless men

Pull. near the bridge te start.

 

Thor off! gud grashus what a shoot

Wes sent frae shore te shore,

The time-gun i' the Cassel Garth

Cud nivor cawse sic stir,

For like two swift locomotives

Byeth try te gain the lead,

Wi' quickind spurt, 'mid roarin cheers

Bob Chambers gans a-heed.

 

The champion wi' masheen-like stroke

Dash'd bravely throo the spray,

While Cooper, game as man cud be,

Tried hard te win the day,

When Chambers, throo the warst 0' luck,

Ran foul agyen two keels,

But full 0' steam-he's affagyen,

An' close at Cooper's heels.

 

Thor level noo,-but throo the storm

Grim danger claim'd the race,

 For efter byeth the men had fould

A fearful scene teuk place,

Bob Chambers' boat wes sinkin fast,

The race that day wes deun,

Then foaks begun wi' clattrin tung

To argie byeth had wun.

 

The next day wi' the tide still ruff,

They had thor second spin,

Frae start te finish Chambers led,

The better man te win,

An' proov'd thor's not a man alive,

That can wi' him contend;

But speak weel 0' the lossin man,

May gud luck byeth attend.

 

The race that had for weeks an' munths

Excited mony a breest

Wes past-an' ivrybody's mind

Seem'd frev a load releest;

Ne men like these had ivor pull'd,

Let Tyneside glory shine,

An' lang may champions

0' the world Spring frae the coally Tyne.

 

Wor Geordey says he's glad he wes on the bridge at the race, for thor wes

a deed heet at the start, an' he dissent think they war ivor see close eftor't.

What a cawshun Geordey is, aw say.

 

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


 
 
 
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CHAMBERS AND COOPER

 

A DUBBIL ACROSTIC-REED THE LETTORS DOONWORDS.

 

C HAMPlONS 0' the world, why shud ye pull ?

 C an ye not rest on laurels, nobly gain'd ?

H appy wivan undefeated scull,

 O rdaind te rule the world, wi'nyem unstaind:

A re ye not content wi' contests wun?

 Opposed te men 0' power an' wundrus skill,

Maw canny hinnies, ye've had yor run,

 P ride willbe wilful,so ye've had yor will,

But, faith, aw'd seuner see yor hardy hands

 Entwined wi' kindly grasp-a combinashun

E nuif te strike terror throughoot a' lands,

 R eet glad ye'd be, tiv Cocknies' consternashun,

Rich iv each uthers help-each heart expands,

Sons 0' the Tyne, joind wi' true frindship's bands!

 

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890




 
 
 

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TEMPERANCE SONGS,

READINGS,

AND RECITATIONS.

 

TEMPERANCE

KILL'D THROO A FALL DOONSTAIRS.

READING OR RECITATION.

 

“WHAT a nice young chep Jack Harley is ! " the neybors a' wad say,

As, clean an' neat, he left the hoose te gan te wark each day;

An' a cheerful smile lit up his fyece whenivor he luckt back,

An' nodded tiv his canny wife an' little bairn, young Jack.

An' the little fellow nodded tee, an' shooted-" Da, ta! ta!"

It myed Jack turn an' smile agyen at this sweet scene he saw.

An' he often thowt an' said he was the happiest 0' men,

An' happier felt, when wark wes deun, te be at hyem agyen.

Ivrything went on first-rate, an' Jack had little care,

Except attendin te the wants not often wanted there;

For Bessy wes a careful wife, an' easy myed ends meet:

In fact, ye cuddentfind a happier couple i' the street.

But Time browt changes te the hoose that there shud nivvor been,

An' cast a clood that nivvor yit wes lifted frae the scene:

For Jack got mates-an idle lot-that wassent fit for him,

An' filled his once bright, happy cup wi' mis'ry te the brim.

Then Jack's free disposition always myed him easy prey

Te fellows wi' the gift 0' tung, that often hes the way

Te myek ye think they like ye weel-that they're yor truest frinds ;

Weel up iv a' kinds 0' deceit, te sarve thor selfish ends,

So Jack wes seun perswayded te join them iv a spree.

Next mornin' when he wakened up, as bad as he cud be,

They teuk him te the public-hoose where they had been before,

An' when they fund thor money gyen they started" tick" te score.

Thor wark neglected, there they sat, an' kept it up for days,

Wi' the drink they raised wi' spungin an' a' such dirty ways,

Till Jack wes just as bad as them, an' fairly lost te shem,

Except when, wiva moment's pain, his mind wad wander hyern.

An' when he tried te gan away,his tempters kept him back

Frae the canny wife se true te him an' canny little Jack.

So days went on like this till Jack nowt but a drunkard turn'd:

He hated wark as he luved drink-his throat for iver burn'd

For drink-s-ay, drink, that fearful curse, had fallen upon him,

An' filled his once bright, happy cup wi' mis'ry te the brim.

One neet, his wife went on her knees, an' prayed that he wad stop,

Ay, if he'd only stop at hyem, she'd fetch him in a drop.

"If he wad only stop at hyem," she uttered wiv a sigh, "

She'd try te myek him happy, as she'd deun i' days gyen by; .

She'd cool his broo wi' wetted cloths, an' rest wad bring him roond;

A few days wad myek him better !"-an' her voice had that sweet soond,

That Jack once halted at the door, an' said-" Lass, nivvor fear !

Aw'llmyek this spree me varry last; an' when aw'm off the beer,

Aw'll gan te wark : aw'll get a job at owt if war trade's slack.

Yor seedy noo-ye want sum claes, an' so dis little Jack! "

He kissed her as he left the hoose; she smiled an' said, "Cum seun”!

She knew hoo happy they cud be if once his spree was deun.

That neet she waited lang, as she had often deun before,

An' listened te the footsteps that kept passin' bythe door;

An' little Jack laffed iv his dreams, as if he had ne care;

An' Bessy turned quite sleepy-when a footstep on the stair

Myed her start up te showa leet. She heard him stagger noo

A heavy fall doonstairs-an' then, a groan that went clean throo

The heart 0' that poor list'ner ;-then a hurried rush 0' feet

Frae the neybors, as they flew te see the dreadful wark that neet.

Poor Bessy screamed, when Jack she saw, wi' blud upon his cheek.

"Maw canny man, where are ye hurt?" but Jack, he cuddent speak.

He fixed his eyes upon his wife in anguish and remorse,

For drink had browt ne life te him, but untimely deeth -its curse!

 

 

 

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890



 
 
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WHICH DE YE CALL MEAN ?

A TEETOTALER'S DEFENCE.

RECITATION

 

YOR prejudiced agyen the men

That winnet drink wi' ye ;

Ye call teetotal members mean

Ye've said the syem te me!

Can ye expect that they shud stand

A glass 0' beer for ye,

The varry thing that they detest?

No, no, that waddent de !

 

An' if they dinnet drink thor-sels,

They heh ne call te pay

For drink for ye, or ony one,

That's meant te gan that way.

Ye heh ne reet te call them mean,

An' noo aw'll tell ye hoo,

For 'twixt ye an' teetotal men,

Yor meanest 0' the two I

 

Is't. mean that they shud study hyem,

Its cumforts an' its peace ;

An' try te myek thor happiness

Frae day te day increase?

The time that drunkords fuddle on,

Wi' nowt fit te be seen;

Where is thor cumfort i' the hoose ?

Noo which de ye call mean?

 

The drunkord hes ne care for hyem,

He's selfish te the last;

As lang as he gets plenty beer,

His wife an' bairns may fast;

He's bloated out wi' drink se full,

 At hyem thor starved an' lean;

He nivvor cares for hyem at a',

Noo which de ye call mean?

 

A sober man's his bairns' best frind;

Wiv all a fethur's pride,

He thinks ne palace like his awn,

His cosey fireside;

His wife an' fam'ly tyek a pride,

In keepin a' things clean;

Thor's plenty there-ne signs 0' want,

Noo which de ye call mean?

 

Is't him that's stiddy, kind an' true

Tiv a' that's i' the hoose ?

Or him that spunges, ticks, and sprees,

For nowt ov ony use?

Aw've shown ye what aw knaw's quite true,

Ye hey yor choice between,

Then speak the truth, ye’ve heerd us throo,

Noo which de ye call mean?

 

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890




 
 

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TOM BROON. READING OR RECITATION

 

"WHAT'S the next case?" said the magistrate; but he seemed te knaw, aw think,

It wad be like a' the uthers, throo the drink--the weary drink:

An' the disapated pris'nor luckt aroond an' hung hisheed,

An' he tried te shun the glances frae the curious eyes he see'd.

For 'twas Tom Breon's first appearance In this low, degradin scene,

An' he hoped an' wished 'twad be the last, him an' the grave between:

For not once iv a' his life-time had it ivor been his fate,

Before this morn, te stand afore the grim-like magistrate.

An' his blood-shot eyes they glistened when he thowt aboot his hyem,

An' he wundor'd hoo his wife an' bairns wad ivor bear the shem

That he'd browt se heavy on them, an' his heart beat quick an' fast,

As he murmured tiv he'sel, nigh chokin, "This shall be the last,

Ay, the last time that they'll witness such a scene 0' maw disgrace;

Ay, the last time that aw'Il hing me heed i' such a hated place!"

The magistrate spoke kindly, for he saw repentance there,

Then dismissed him wiv a cawshun, but he tell'd him te beware!

An' he gov him that bit gud advice te let the drink alyen,

An' he teIl'd him that he nivvor wished te see him there agyen.

Tom thenkt him in a manner that he cuddent then resist,

An' swore ne mair they'd see his nyem upon the drunkard's list;

An' his heart lowpt wiv a joy that they cuddent help but see,

For he felt, but in two different ways, that he once mair wes free

For in that awful moment, when he first appeared in court,

Te be the haze-gaze 0' the crood, his pride wes sairly hurt;

He had only then considered what had really browt him there,

What had been the cawse ova' his shem-the cawse ov his dispair.

In that first sober moment that he'd felt for mony days,

He knew thor wes but one te blame for his bad, feulish ways.

An' whe wes that one but he'sel he fund he cuddent say,

An' he swore te be teetotal frae that day-that varry day.

An' the heart wes noo uplifted that before had been cast doon,

An' he blist his resolution as he hurried throo the toon.

The drink his shopmates offered noo he firmly cast aside,

An' tiv a' thor greet temptayshuns he most steadily replied,

"Not a drop, not one! Aw tell ye, not a single drop aw'll tyek,

For if aw've been asleep till noo, aw find aw'm wideawake

Te the evil that it's cawsed us,-an' if mine be nowt te sum,

Whey, aw'll try me best te hinder such anuther day te cum

Te me-sel an' te the mony;-an' ye knaw as weel as me

That aw'm honest and strite-forward as a workin man can be.

Then what myed us se disgracefully bring a' me frinds te grief?

What myed us be trailed throo the streets like sum vile, dorty thief?

What myed us pass last neet amang an idle, low-lifed gang,

When aw shud been at hyem i' peace, an' free frev ony rang?

What browt us te the pris'nor's box like sum poor, guilty thing,

An' on me fam'ly an' me-sel such misery te bring,

An' fill thor breests wi' shem an' pain,-hoo can aw meet thor eyes?

Hoo can me maister trust us noo ?-

Aw ask ye is this wise?

What else but drink-the country's curse-browt this mischief te me?

So frae man's greatest enemy this moment aw'll be free!

An' if ye'Il tyek a mate's advice, ye'll try an' de the syem,

For drunkenness 'Il nivvor tend te myek a happy hyem.

The lesson that aw've lairnt the day shall iver be me plan,

Te shun disgrace an' try te be respected as a man! "

 

 

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


 
 
 
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THE NEET SCHEUL

 

TEUN- "The Lancashire Lass."

 

WOR Jack's a young lad that's byeth clivor an' smart,

His heed's full 0' knollidge an' a' kinds 0' lairnin;

He's got a' the scheul beuks clean off be heart,

An' nowt else wad please him but startin a scheul.

He thowt he cud de the thing complete,

Efter wark, i' the hoose, myest ivry neet,

Wi' lads an' lasses belangin the street,

He wad seun hey a canny bit scheul,

 

Korus

 

"If they'd say eftor me thor ABC,"

He thowt it wad de se canny an' clivor ;

 But ABC DEan' F G

Wes owt but a spree for poor Jack at the scheu!.

 

The scholars he got wes a thick-heeded lot,

They had bother'd the heed ov mony a maister,

Till hopeless they'd let them a' gan te pot,

So Jack got them a' when he opened the scheul;

Besides they war nearly twice Jack's age,

If they broke a slate or tore a page,

They wad laffte see him get iv a rage,

An they'd myek quite a scene i' scheu!.

 

Says one, "What's the gud ov us lairnin at a'?

When aw can get me muther te read the papers;"

Says anuther, "Aw'lllairn when aw'm auder, aw knaw,

That 'ill save us the trouble ov gannin te scheul!"

Then anuther wad seun brick up the class,

Wi' startin te tease anuther lad's lass,

An' if Jack spoke they'd smack his jaws,

So they seun put an end te the scheul,

 

Says Jack, "But ye'll a' rue this i' the end,

Thor's nowt ye'll regret like yor lairnin neglected,

Ye pay ne attenshun becawse aw's yor frind,

When aw's willin te teach ye ye'll not hey a scheul

Ye'll think 0' the chance ye've thrawn away,

An' mony a time ye'll rue the day

That ye broke up me little bit scheul.

 

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


 
 


 
 
 

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THE PAINTED NOSE!

 

TEUN-" Irish Mally, O!"

 

JIM TODD wes once a gud-like chep,

Wi' nose byeth clean an' strite;

His cheeks had a nice rosy tint

Abuv the skin se white.

Until he joined a drunken lot,

His features had repose;

But brandy myed an ugly change,

It pimpled a' his nose.

 

Korus.

 

It spoiled his fyece se canny,

An' his failins did expose;

It's not a plissint seet te see

A drunkard's painted nose!

 

At forst he thowt them beauty spots,

That seun wad gan away;

He cuddent think he'd hey a nose

Like that frae day te day.

He sighed as he luckt i' the glass,

Wi' feelins quite morose,

Te see his cheeks se varry pale,

An' such a fierynose!

 

He got advice frae docter cheps,

But a' that they cud say,

Wes if he'd let the drink alyen,

'Twad mebbies gan away.

It teuk him eers te cullur'd se,

An' munny, aw suppose:

The brandy that he drunk wad myek't

A real expensive nose!

 

An' so he carries on his fyece

The drunkard's glarin sign!

Ye cannet called an ornament,

Tho brightly it dis shine.

But if he'll tyek a frind's advice,

An' de what aw propose,

He'll drink ne mair, but tyek the pledge,

An' get a different nose!

 

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


 
 
 
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DEETH l' THE STREET

 

RECITATION. 'TWES a fearful seet,

 l' the winter's neet,

A wummin lyin drunk i' the street.

 

Sum thowt she wes bad,

Or deed wi' the cawd,

She luckt se starved an' se poorly clad.

 

They wad tyek her up,

An' give her a sup:

Her breeth smelt strang  0' the cursed cup.

 

They myest.let her fall,

But a frindly wall

Stopt her, as she opened her shawl.

 

What wes that that fell?

Aw can hardly tell.

Was she a wummin or fiend from hell?

 

Se drunk i' the street,

On a winter's neet,

Wiv her bairn lyin a corpse at her feet!

 

'Twes frozen te deeth,

An' they held thor breeth,

As they held the corpse, wi' chatterin teeth.

 

Poor thing! it wes cawd;

A bonny bit lad;

Eneuff te myek the most heartless sad.

 

They teuk them away;

An' a frosty day

Opened as they i' the station lay.

 

Aw'm silent an' brief

On a muther's grief;

But i' deeth, that day, she'd felt relief:

 

For a lifeless child,

An' a parent wild,

Wes seen, as the sun shone soft an' mild.

 

‘Here the nation's curse

On a bairnless nurse

Wes seen iv its evils, strong in force.

 

An' so it 'ill be,

Till the country's free

Frae the drink that works such misery.

 

-Source: Joe Wilson, (author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890


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WHAT A FEUL AW'VE BEEN!

 

TEUN-"John Anderson my Jo."

 

Aw mind the time, when full 0' strength,

Aw gaily went te wark,

An' care sat leetIy On me broo

Frae mornin until dark.

A happy fam'ly be me side

Enlivened a' the scene;

But noo the change, the weary change,

Shows what a feul aw've been.

 

Contented wi' me daily lot,

Industry charmed me heart,

An' high it beat wi' honest hope,

Sum day aw'd myek a start

I' bissniss, maister for me-sel,

An' this aw might heh been;

But oh, the drink, the weary drink,

Shows what a feul aw've been.

 

Aw had a hoose, a canny hoose,

An' luvin wife beside;

An' bairns that clung around me knee,

Thor dad and mammy's pride.

Poor things! they dropped off one be one,

For poverty se keen

Com roond us wiv a deedly blast

Man, what a feul aw've been!

 

The hoose that shud hey been a hyem

Te wife an' bairns for life,

Wes myed a scene ov nowt but want

An' nivvor-ending strife.

Wi' happiness completely lost,

Ne hoose, ne wife, nor wean,

The miserable life aw lead

Shows what a feul aw've been.


 
 
 
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