The Moon Drops Low (High voice)

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To the beak o' the second aw held up me fist, D—mn! Aw pat them to reets, an' onward aw steer'd, An' wonder'd the folks aw had see'd, But a' was palaver that ever aw heurd, So aw walk'd on as other folk did. At last aw gat up on the top o' sum sheds, Biv the help of an au'd crazy lether; An' ower the tops o' ten thousand folks' heads, Aw suen gat a gliff o' the blether. D—mn, a blether aw call it! As aw sat at me ease aw cud hear a' the folk Gie their notions about the Balloon; Aw thowt aw shud brust when aw heurd their strange talk, Aboot the man's gaun to the moon.

Voice drops by one piano note, and lasts for a year

A chep wiv a fyece like a poor country bumpkin, Sed he heurd, but may hap tisent true, That the thing whilk they saw was a great silken pumpkin By me eye, what a lilly-ba-loo! Another said, Sadler for that is the nyem O' the man may pay dear for his frolic, When he's up iv the clouds a stree for his fame! His guts may have twangs of the cholic.

The man a' this time the great blether was filling, Wiv stuff that wad myed a dog sick, It smelt just as though they were garvage distilling, Till at length it was full as a tick. They next strain'd the ropes to keep the thing steady, Put colley and drams iv the boat; Then crack went the cannon, to say it was ready, An' aw see'd the blether afloat. Not a word was there heurd, a' eyes were a starin, For the off ganen moment was near: To see sic a crowd se whisht was amazen, Aw thowt aw fand palish and queer.

After waitin a wee, aw see'd him come to, Shaken hands, as aw thowt, wiv his friend; Of his mountin the corf aw had a full view, As he sat his ways down at the end. The ropes were then cut, and upwards he went, A wavin his flag i' the air; Ev'ry heed was turn'd up, and a' eye's wur intent On this comical new flying chair: It went it's ways up like a lavrick sae hee, Till it luckt 'bout the size of a skyate; When in tiv a cloud it was lost t' the e'e, Aw wisht the man better i' fate. Fareweel, fareweel, maw comely pet!

Four American Indian Songs, First Edition

Aw's forc'd three weeks to leave thee; Aw's doon for par'ment duty set, O dinna let it grieve thee! Maw hinny! Come, ho'way get a gill o' beer, Thee heart te cheer: An' when thou sees me mairch away, Whiles in, whiles oot O' step, nae doot, 'Bob Cranky's gane,' thou'lt sobbing say, 'A sowgering to Newcassel! Come, dinna, dinna whinge an' whipe, Like yammering Isbel Macky; Cheer up, maw hinny! It's but for yen an' twenty days, The folks's een aw'll dazzle. Are warse o' wear; Mind cloot them weel, when aw's away; An' a posie goon Aw'll buy thee soon, An' thou's drink thy tea—aye, twice a-day, When aw cum frae Newcassel.

But at the blue styen o' the Brig Aw'll hae maw mairchin ginny. A guinea! But whisht! Fareweel, maw comely!

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But, hinny! As Jackey sat lowsin his buttons, And rowlin his great backey chow, The bells o' the toon 'gan to tinkle; Cries Mally, What's happen'd us now?

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As Mally was puffin an' runnin, A gentleman's flonkey she met; 'Canny man, ye mun tell us the news, Or ye'll set wor au'd man i' the pet. Ise warrant she's some frolicksome jade, And com'd to Newcassel for fashions, Or else to suspect the Coal Trade. So to Peter's thou's gan i' the mornin, Gan suin an' thou'll get a good pleyce; If thou canna get haud of her paw, Thou mun get a guid luick at her fyece: And if ye can but get a word at her, And mind now ye divent think shem, Say, 'Please, ma'm, they ca' my wife Mary, Wor next little bairn's be the syem.

So betimes the next mornin he travels, And up to the Queen's Head he goes, Where a skinny chep luik'd frev a winder, Wi' white powther'd wig an' lang nose: A fine butterflee coat wi' gowld buttons, A' man! 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: [Pg 48] Like a cat Jackey flang his leg ower, Ay, like Bacchus he sat at his ease, Tiv aw's fuddled, odsmash!

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! O Mally, wilt thou lead me hyem. O' the Hoppen day, Ho'way, marrows! There was Sam, O zoons!

When we wor drest, It was confest [Pg 49] 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. 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. What's that to say To the bonny fray We had wi' skipper Robin, O?

The keel bullies a', Byeth greet an' sma', Myed a b——rly tide o' the hoppen, O. Gleed Will cried, Ma-a! Their hash was sattled, So off they rattled, An' we jigg'd it up sae hearty, O.

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Wi' mony a shiver, An' lowp sae cliver, Can Newcassel turn out sic a party, O? When, wheit dyun ower, the fiddlers went, We stagger'd a hint sae merry, O; An thro' wor toon, till fairly spent, Roar'd—Crowley's Crew an' glory, O! Close by the stocks, his dies and box He rattled away so rarely, O; Both youth and age did he engage, Together they play'd so cheerly, O: While just close by the sticks did fly At spice on knobs of woody, O: 'How! Rang'd in a row, a glorious show Of spice, and nuts for cracking, O; With handsome toys for girls and boys, Grac'd Winlaton fam'd Hopping, O.

Each to the stalls led his dear lass, And treat her there so sweetly, O; Then straight retire to drink a glass, An' shuffle an' cut so neatly, O. The night came on, with dance and song, Each public-house did jingle, O; All ranks did swear to banish Care, The married and the single, O: They tript away till morning light, Then slept sound without rocking, O; Next day got drunk in merry plight, And jaw'd about the Hopping, O. No courtier fine, nor grave divine, That's got the whole he wishes, O, Will ever be so blithe as we, With all their loaves and fishes, O: Then grant, O Jove!

I was a young maiden truly, And lived in Sandgate-street; I thought to marry a good man, To keep me warm at neet. Some good-like body, some bonny body, To be with me at noon; But last I married a keelman, And my good days are done. I thought to marry a parson, To hear me say my prayers; But I have married a keelman, And he kicks me down the stairs.

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I thought to marry a dyer, To dye my apron blue; And I have married a keelman, And he makes me sorely rue. He's an ugly body, a bubbly body, An ill-far'd ugly loon; And I have married a keelman, And my good days are done. I thought to marry a joiner, To make me chair and stool; But I have married a keelman, And he's a perfect fool. I thought to marry a sailor, To bring me sugar and tea; But I have married a keelman, And that he lets me see.

As me and my marrow was gannin to wark, We met wi' the De'il, it was in the dark; I up wi' my pick, it being in the neet, And knock'd off his horns, likewise his club feet. Follow the horses, Johnny, my lad, oh!

What happens when you drop a feather and a hammer on the moon?

Follow them through, my canny lad, oh! Oh, lad, lie away, canny lad, oh! As me and my marrow was putting the tram, The lowe it went oot, and my marrow went wrang; You would have laugh'd had you seen the gam, The de'il gat my marrow, but I gat the tram. Oh, marrow! I've broken my bottle and spilt a' my drink; I've lost a' my shin-splints amang the greet stanes, Draw me to the shaft, it's time to gan hame. Driving the drift frae the low seam, Driving the drift frae the low seam: Haud up the lowe, lad!

There is me horse, and there is me tram; Twee horns full of greese will myek her to gan; There is me hoggers, likewise me half shoon, And smash me heart! As I cam thro' Sandgate, thro' Sandgate, thro' Sandgate, As I cam thro' Sandgate, I heard a lassie sing, Weel may the keel row, the keel row, the keel row, Weel may the keel row, that my laddie's in. He wears a blue bonnet, blue bonnet, blue bonnet, He wears a blue bonnet, a dimple in his chin: And weel may the keel row, the keel row, the keel row, And weel may the keel row that my laddie's in.

Whe's like my Johnny, Sae leish, sae blithe, sae bonny? He's foremost 'mang the mony Keel lads o' Coaly Tyne; He'll set or row sae tightly, Or in the dance sae sprightly, He'll cut and shuffle sightly: 'Tis true—were he not mine. Weel may the keel row, The keel row, the keel row, Weel may the keel row, That my laddie's in: He wears a blue bonnet, A bonnet, a bonnet, He wears a blue bonnet, A dimple in his chin.

He's nae mair o' learning, Than tells his weekly earning, Yet reet frae wrang discerning, Tho' brave, nae bruiser he: Tho' he no worth a plack is, His awn coat on his back is, And nyen can say that black is The white o' Johnny's e'e. He takes his quairt right dearly, Each comin' pay-day, nearly, Then talks O, latin O—cheerly, Or mavies jaws away; How caring not a feather, Nelson and he together, The springey French did lether.

And gar'd them shab away. We're a' kings comparely, In each I'd spy a fairly, [Pg 56] An' ay wad Johnny barly, He gets sic bonny bairns: Go bon, the queen, or misses, But wad, for Johnny's kisses, Luik upon as blisses, Scrimp meals, caff beds, and dairns. Wor lads, like their deddy, To fight the French are ready; But gie's a peace that's steady, And breed cheep as langsyne; May a' the press-gang perish, Each lass her laddie cherish: Lang may the Coal Trade flourish Upon the dingy Tyne.

Breet Star o' Heaton, You're ay wor darling sweet on'; May heaven's blessings leet on Your lyedy, bairns, and ye! God bless the King and Nation! A story aw's gaun for to tell, An' t' ye it may luik varry strange, It was in a shop on the Sandhill, When the Craw's Nest was on the Exchange. A monkey was each day drest soon, Ahint the coonter he sat i' the shop, Whe cam in an' their money laid doon, Jaco straight in the till would it pop. A Skipper he cam in yen day, He coudent help luiking at Jackey, [Pg 57] On the coonter his money did lay, Saying, 'Please, sir, an ounce of rag backey!

For aw maun be at Sheels now this tide— Now pray be as sharp as ye can, For wor keel she is at the Keyside;— Au'd man, are ye deef? For aw think now that's mater aneuf:— What's the mater, ye ax?