“ They kiss’d them dead a thousand times,
When they were clad in clay.
This news was brought to Edinburgh,
Where Scotland’s king did reign,
That brave earl Douglas suddenly
Was with an arrow slain.
O heavy news! king James did say,
Scotland can witness be,
I have not any captain more
Of such account as he.
Like tidings to king Henry came,
Within as short a space,
That Percy of Northumberland
Was slain in Chevy Chase.
Now God be with him! said our king,
Sith ’twill no better be;
I trust I have within my realm
Five hundred as good as he. ”

“ But now low lays the lovely maid,
Sweet Lucy Gray of Allendale.
Bleak blows the wind, keen beats the rain,
Upon my cottage in the vale;
Long may I mourn, a lonely swain,
For Lucy Gray of Allendale. HALTWHISTLE FAIR.
The day was quite pleasant, the Fourteenth of May,
When most of the neighbours began to look gay,
Such brushing, and washing, and dressing was there,
And nothing was talk’d of but Haltwhistle Fair.
You may be quite sure I was pleas’d to the heart,
To think I was going there to act my part;
While pleasure is going, I will have my share,
And see the nice lasses at Haltwhistle Fair. ”

“ He with Collingwood conquers and dies.
From thy hills, too, at sound of the heart-rousing drum,
Thy war breathing soldier retires;
In lion-like strength seeks the carnage field’s hum,
Fights—blesses thy name—and expires!
Such, such are the heroes in thy vallies rear’d,
Such, Northumbria, thy children still be:
Proud commerce, from Tyne’s banks in glory uprear’d,
To her breast clasps the lords of the sea.
Come forward ye dark rolling clouds of the north,
Who shrinks from your blasts but the coward and slave? ”

“ Tho’ lofty bards sublimer sing,
And boldly tune their lays;
Not less renown attends the string,
Which sounds to beauty’s praise.
Ye muses then lend me your aid,
Whilst I attempt to prove,
That in Newcastle many a maid
Excells the queen of love.
II.
Ye bards, forbear your partial lays,
Ye who so lofty sing,
Nor longer only Venus praise,
But here your numbers bring.
No more shall blinded mortals pray,
Or bow before her shrine;
No more in Cyprus seek the bay,
But find it here on Tyne.
III.
First of yon throng, see Delia [18] shine,
That matchless nonpareil! ”

“ Half the world must have heard of our Newcastle CROWS?
How their daddy, bold bird! from a rabble got free,
And was fully determin’d a freeman to be!
On the vane of the steeple, upon the Exchange,
Completed his nest, which beholders thought strange:
His bright jetty consort accomplish’d her part,
Nor foes, nor foul weather could alter her heart.
Their younglings, quite able to take distant flight,
Were told, by their parents, “Good manners are right.” ”

“ They drink, and ne’er for home declare,
Until they’re pockets are quite bare.
Here mangy Scots from banks of Tay,
With scarce a plaid to bear away;
Half-starv’d, they from the frozen North,
Like swarms of locusts, sally forth,
Worse than before, on Pharaoh’s land,
Were sent by the Almighty hand;
Such hardness of their hearts to purge,
And for their wickedness them scourge:
This mugletonian blackguard breed,
Upon our very vitals feed;
And, like the whelps of Juno’s pack,
Of Scots infection bring a smack;
When hither come, they seldom fail
To scrape the scabs from off their tail ”

“ When truth’s bright beams shall shine without allay.
Ne’er sway’d by notions, nor to schemes confin’d,
His breast was open to the honest mind.
Whatever noble warmth could recommend,
The just, the active, and the constant friend;
Whatever great or good we can adore,
Center’d in him—in him alas! no more. [100]
Thus love, peace, joy, with a distinguish’d grace,
Shone thro’ the features of his friendly face.
How near approaches to a life divine,
The man in whom the peaceful virtues shine? ”

“ And drink a health to Captain Carr, and all his family,
And to our other officers, much praise to whom is due,
And to the Hexham Volunteers, so loyal and so true.
British courage once again
To England peace restore,
And plant the olive in a soil
More lasting than before. THE JOLLY PARSON.
Doctor Moff once more employs the burden of my song,
He drinks a health to him that’s blest with constitution strong:
He laughs and winks at him that drinks, and he’ll bett five pounds, sir,
He’ll toast his lass, and drink his glass, and tally O the hounds, sir. ”

“ The skin on Sir James, is not so fit as his coat,
And fine Bristol beer washes his throat.
No Newcastle furniture their office degrades,
Sir James Duncan employs no such bungling, vile blades,
As the paltry workmen, in this smokey town,
Whose finery often—has made us Bankers frown. ”

“ The tribe of empirics,
Shall howl in hysterics,
And man shall untortur’d fall into decay:
The pill and the potion,
The ungent and lotion,
In box and in bottle shall moulder away,
Oh Chester, &c. NEWCASTLE BEER. By John Cunningham.
When Fame brought the news of Great Britain’s success,
And told at Olympus each Gallic defeat;
Glad Mars sent by Mercury orders express,
To summon the deities all to a treat:
Blithe Comus was plac’d
To guide the gay feast,
And freely declar’d there was choice of good cheer;
Yet vow’d to his thinking,
For exquisite drinking,
Their nectar was nothing to Newcastle beer. ”

“ Not Nanny of the Tyne.
Can art to nature e’er compare,
Or win us to believe
But that the frippery of the fair
Were made but to deceive.
Strip from the belle the dress so gay,
Which fashion calls divine,
Will she such loveliness display
As Nanny of the Tyne? THE BLUE BELL OF GATESHEAD. By W.B. of Gateshead.
Oh! where, and oh where does your bonny lassie dwell?
Oh! where, and oh where does your bonny lassie dwell?
She lives in canny Gateshead, at the sign of the Blue Bell:
And it’s oh! in my heart, but I love my lassie well.
And what’s best compar’d to the mind of your true love? ”

“ What news, my pretty boy, ‘hast’ thou to tell to me?
Your daughter ‘Mabel’ orders me, as you sit in a chair of stone,
To ask you how you like the news of seven to have but one;
Your daughter gives commands as you sit in a chair of ‘state,’
And bids you come to her sickening, her ‘weary’ lake-wake:
She gives command to her brother William, Ralph, and John;
To her sister Betty fair, and to her white [as] bone,
She bids her keep her maidenhead, besure make much on’t,
For if e’er she come in man’s bed the same gate wou’d she gang. ”

“ Your rulers be loyal to great George the third,
Each rich man prove honest, and just to his word:
No fair-trading merchant will smuggle, or cheat,
No foul gorging glutton waste poor people’s meat. [78]
“Your fine Sandhill maidens be merry and wise,
From their crying of lemons, to selling of pies;
Your green, and rare fish-women, civil enough,
Your milliners spruce, not so apt to take huff.
Up the Side, you’ll hear compliments, happy and free,
Where hot puddings, and haggishes, plenty shall be:
The silver-smiths, coopers, and tinmen will join
To sound the reforms now produc’d on the Tyne. ”

“ Let us drink then a bumper to Stockton’s success,
May its commerce increasing ne’er meet with distress;
May the people’s endeavours procure them much wealth,
And enjoy all their days the great blessing of health. ”

“ There pitmen, with baskets and gay posey waistcoats,
Discourse about nought but whee puts and hews best:
There keelmen, just landed, swear may they be stranded,
If they’re not shav’d first while their keel’s at the Fest;
With a face of coal dust, would frighten one almost,
Thro’ off hat and wig, while they usurp the chair;
While others stand looking, and think it provoking,
But, for the insult, to oppose them none dare. ”

“ Where true wit and humour with charity meet,
And souls are united in union complete.
Derry down, &c.
BETTY.
I’m calling to mind, what a gipsy once told,
Who came in the crowd the crow’s nest to behold;
“These crows are wise creatures—Trade here will improve,
As sure as the winds can that weather-cock move!”
Derry down, &c.
NEDDY.
Then Gateshead is lucky, I vow and declare,
Behold, my dear Betty! where now the crows are;
Near Battle Bank foot, their snug nests you may find,
Upon those new chimnies, set free to the wind.
Derry down, &c.
BETTY.
O wonderful! ”

“ Sandgate’s the devil’s besom sure,
With which oft times he sweeps the floor;
The air’s with glasshouse smoke infected,
Confusion of all kinds collected;
Nothing but murm’ring, noise, and swearing,
Shocks your conscience, grates your hearing.
The women black, red, tawny, grey,
Who seldom go to church to pray;
Who’s sides are ne’er to stays confin’d,
To cramp their natural ease behind. ”

“ O spare for once a female pen,
And lash licentious wicked men;
Your conscious cheek need never glow,
If you your talents thus bestow:
Scarce fifteen summers have I seen,
Yet dare to sing of Pandon Dean. NANNY OF THE TYNE. By J.M. Wedderburn, of Newcastle.
Set to Music by John Aldridge, Jun. of Newcastle.
Whilst bards, in strains that sweetly flow,
Extol each nymph so fair,
Be mine my Nanny’s worth to show—
Her captivating air.
What swain can gaze without delight
On beauty there so fine?
The Graces all their charms unite
In Nanny of the Tyne. ”

“ TO MASTER MOODY, THE RAZOR-SETTER. Newcastle on Tyne, May Twenty-nine.
Good Master Moody,
My beard being cloudy,
My cheeks, chin, and lips
Like moon i’ the ’clipse,
For want of a wipe:
I’ve sent you a razor,
If you’ll be at leisure
To grind her, and set her,
And make her cut better,
You’ll e’en light my pipe. [49]
Dear sir, you know little
The case of poor Whittle—
I’m courting Tantivie,
If you will believe me,
Pray mark what I say: [189]
I’m frank in my proffers,
And when I make offers,
To kiss the sweet creature,
My lips cannot meet her.
My beard stops the way. ”

“ And won, won, shall thou never be,
Till this world hath an end.
Now on the sand near Ida’s tower,
She crawls a loathsome toad,
And venom spits on every maid
She meets upon her road.
The virgins all of Bambrough town,
Will swear that they have seen
This spiteful toad, of monstrous size,
Whilst walking they have been.
All folks believe within the shire
The story to be true,
And they all run to Spindleston,
The cave and trough to view.
This fact now Duncan Frasier
Of Cheviot, sings in rhyme ”

“ The Sons of Tyne,—a youthful band,—
With ardent resolution,
First arm’d to guard their native land,
Their King and Constitution:
Again, whene’er the cause invites,
Our liberties revering,
To guard those dear, those sacred rights,
They’ll go a volunteering.
The shepherd now, beneath his shed,
At eve the dance provoking,
Takes up his lov’d neglected reed,
Long days of Peace invoking.
To plough-shares tho’ our swords we turn,
No more in arms appearing,
With Friendship still our bosoms burn,
Kind actions volunteering. JOHN DIGGONS. By J. Stawpert, of Newcastle. ”

“ OXYGEN GAS. By John Shield, of Newcastle, and sung at the Newcastle Theatre Royal.
On Rhenish, Medeira, Port, Claret, and Sherry,
Your fulsome eulogiums, bon-vivants, pray spare;
’Tis granted, when sad, wine can render us merry,
And lighten our bosoms of sorrow and care;
But what vintage can fire us,
Enrapture, inspire us,
As Oxygen? what so delicious to quaff?
It is so animating,
And so titillating,
E’en grey-beards turn frisky, dance, caper, and laugh,
For what can so fire us, &c. ”

“ Then made he all alike, Betty’s no more his dear.
Drinking was his delight, his senses sure to dose,
Keeping lewd company, when he should seek repose;
His money being spent, and they would tick no score,
Then with a face of brass, he ask’d poor Bett for more.
At length he met with one, a serving-maid in town,
Who for good ale and beer would often pawn her gown,
And at all-fours she’d play, as many people know,
A fairer gamester no man could ever show.
Tom Skelton, ostler at the King’s Arms does dwell,
Who this false Atkinson did all his secrets tell ”

“ By offering you payment in tokens of woe.
Join, O ye pay clerks, my loud lamentations,
Come my ill luck sympathetic deplore:
On discount you reckon’d, but such expectations,
Alas! my good friends, you must cherish no more.
Tokens! God help me! why, why should I make them!
Neither will Pitmen or Keelmen now take them;
E’en in their wagers, they scruple to stake them,
Oh! none must I issue but tokens of woe!
No more of his sorrows the muse hath recorded,
Tho’ tunefully still he bewail’d his sad fate ”

“ The good folk of Gateshead are lucky indeed.
Derry down, &c.
NEDDY.
Then let me, dear Betty, meet better luck still,
Come, give me thy heart and thy hand with good will;
You know I am honest, my vows are sincere,
From all the deceits of vile rascals quite clear.
Derry down, &c. [81]
BETTY.
So many false villains but court to deceive,
We virgins in prudence should slowly believe;
If they can but the punishing laws once escape,
They fear not the devil, his torments, or shape. ”

“ Were Poverty—Calumny—Trouble—and Fear:
Such a club would you borrow,
To drive away sorrow,
Apply for a jorum of Newcastle beer.
Ye youngsters, so diffident, languid, and pale,
Whom love, like the cholic, so rudely infests ”

“ THE BARNARDCASTLE TRAGEDY. Tune—Constant Anthony.
Young men and maidens all, I pray you now attend,
Mark well this tragedy which you find here penn’d;
At Barnardcastle Bridge-end, an honest man lives there,
His calling grinding corn, for which few can compare. [272]
He had a sister dear, in whom he took delight,
And Atkinson, his man, woo’d her both day and night;
Till thro’ process of time he chained fast her heart,
Which prov’d her overthrow, by Death’s surprising dart.
False-hearted Atkinson, with his deluding tongue,
And his fair promises, he’s this poor maid undone ”

“ Next morning turns calm weather,
So grandy’s passion soon took flight,
She pray’d that they together
Might live in love and happiness,
Enjoying peace and plenty,
Long may they health and wealth possess,
And pockets ne’er grow empty.
When they had grandy’s blessing got,
They slily fled away, sir,
He all the bricks did leave unwrought,
And many debts to pay, sir.
Now all good people, warning take,
How you do trust to strangers,
They’ll wheedle you for money’s sake,
And still prove country rangers.
[195]
FROM THE
SWAINS OF FELTON,
TO THE
Shepherds of Lanthernside, Northumberland, 1787. ”

“ The little priest of Felton,
He kill’d a mouse within his house,
And ne’er a one to help him;
To help him, to help him,
He kill’d a mouse within his house,
And ne’er a one to help him.
[190]
THE FELTON GARLAND. How a Brick-maker at Felton stole a Woman away by her own Consent, from her Grandmother.
To the Tune of, Maggy Lauder.
There lives a lass in Felton town,
Her name is Jenny Gowen,
With the Brick-man she has play’d the lown,
So wanton she is grown:
The reason why some love the night,
Incognito to revel,
Is they love darkness more than light,
Because their deeds are evil. ”

“ Being auld, and unfeary, and fail’d of his strength,
Then she cowp’d him o’er the kale-pot with a kevil,
And there he lay labouring all his long length.
His body was soddy, and sore he was bruised,
The bark of his shins was all standing in peaks;
No stivat e’er lived was so much misused
As sare as auld Sawney for claiming the breeks.
The noise was so great all the neighbours did hear them,
She made his scalp ring like the clap of a bell;
But never a soul had the mense to come near them,
Tho’ he shouted murder with many a yell. ”

“ Thus ended the hunting of Chevy Chase,
Made by the earl Percy.
God save the king, and bless the land
In plenty, joy, and peace;
And grant, henceforth, that foul debate
’Twixt noblemen may cease. AN OLD SONG ON THE BATTLE OF FLODDEN.
I Have heard of a lilting, at our ewes’ milking,
Lasses a lilting, before the break of day;
But now there’s a moaning, on ilka green loaning,
That our braw forresters are a’ wede away. ”