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| == The Lambin ==
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| [[Dalton, Clive|Clive Dalton]] | | [[Dalton, Clive|Clive Dalton]] |
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| But te leave the farm to the eldest son<br> | | But te leave the farm to the eldest son<br> |
| Am teld is the warst kind of child abuse! | | Am teld is the warst kind of child abuse! |
| | | [[Category:Songs and Poems]] |
| == Ode to North Tyne ==
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| By A Charlton, (1946), Hyde, Wareham, formerly of Westmorland House, Wark on Tyne.
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| Oh! North Tyne, dear North Tyne, the home of my heart<br>
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| Thy memory will never away from my heart, <br>
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| The home of the dauntless, the fair and the free, <br>
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| Whose deeds are recorded on land and on sea.<br>
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| Thy scenes are enchanting through moorland and lea,<br>
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| From Peel Fell to Hexham on the way to the sea.<br>
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| Other dales may be fairer, but none can compare<br>
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| With the expanse of beauty, romantic and rare.<br>
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| A portion of nature, not other can share, nor compare<br>
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| With kind hearts, still beating there.<br>
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| From Falstone to Reedsmouth, and down to the Clint,<br>
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| Of beauty and grandeur there’s never a stint.<br>
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| By Lea Hall and Houxty, Chipchase, Houghton and Wall,<br>
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| The scene of my young days sweet memories recall.<br>
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| And where’er I may go, or whate’re may betide,<br>
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| There’s no place to me like my bonny Tyneside.<br>
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| It was at Wark village I first saw the light<br>
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| That has spluttered and flickered through the passage of life<br>
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| And has shown, through those years of pleasure and strife,<br>
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| That the forces of might still overrule right.<br>
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| It’s some consolation we certainly know<br>
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| That whate’er might betide, where’er we may go<br>
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| With all our errors, or favours we’ve won<br>
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| We’ll just leave this world as rich as we come.<br>
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| Old schoolmates have gone, some now far away<br>
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| In far distant countries our Flag to display, <br>
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| With sons of the Empire they march hand-in-hand,<br>
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| To uphold traditions of the dear Motherland.<br>
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| Some days we shall meet them, and welcome them back<br>
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| (Those dauntless defenders of the old Union Jack,<br>
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| To the home of the childhood, where we oft used to play;<br>
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| In woodland or meadow by the Bonny Brae.<br>
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| Oh! Bonnie North Tyne, I hope to see thee once more,<br>
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| Tho’ miles lie between me and thy happy shore,<br>
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| I dwell among strangers far from my old home,<br>
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| Through scruples of others, no fault of my own.<br>
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| I wish all folk in thy valley, all good things that be,<br>
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| And that fair winds may guide them on life’s troubled sea<br>
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| To a haven of happiness, unfettered and free,<br>
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| To list to thy murmurings in “Sweet Liberty”.<br>
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| At Birtley my loved ones are sleeping their lane,<br>
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| They never won fortune or craved for fame.<br>
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| Without fear or favour they’d nought to reflect,<br>
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| They lived out their lives with blemish or shame.<br>
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| Till God called them to join Him elect,<br>
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| By His will they shall sleep and be ever at rest<br>
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| On the land of their childhood, the dearest and best.<br>
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| There I hope to join them and lie by their side.<br>
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| Mid’st flowers of the forest, and sweet scented pine,<br>
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| No thougt of the morrow, of time or of tide,<br>
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| '''When God chooses to call me from Bonnie North Tyne.'''
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| == A Bellingham Laddie ==
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| [[Dalton, Clive|Clive Dalton]] | |
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| Aaa was born at [[Noble Street]]<br>
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| Number ]]6 Noble Street|six]] te be exact.<br>
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| Norse Armstrong landed on hor bike<br>
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| Me backside for to smack.
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| Me fathor worked at Reedsmouth<br>
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| A guard on the Wannie train.<br>
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| From Bellingham to Scotsgap<br>
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| And then back heme again.
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| Aa went te church each Sunday<br>
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| Te pray for endless hoors,<br>
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| Te save me soul from Owld Nick’s fire<br>
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| By wor beloved ‘Daddy Flower’.
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| == Bellingham Show (Anon) ==
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| A thick veil of mist, the Tyne valley did fill<br>
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| As I crested the top of the high Hareshaw hill,<br>
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| Aa’ heard musical strains in the vale far below<br>
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| As onward Aa headed for Bellingham Show.
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| As up through the town me owld bike Aa did drive<br>
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| The crowd was as thick as brown bees round a hive,<br>
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| The rich and the poor, the high, great and low<br>
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| All had come for enjoyment at Bellingham Show.
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| They were there from the banks of the Tyne and the Rede<br>
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| The Coquet and Wansbeck and ------ silvery Tweed,<br>
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| All jumpin with glee, full of dash, fun and go<br>
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| Mekkin’ haste to be in at Bellingham Show.
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| There were horses and cattle, bull stirks, calves and cows<br>
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| There was old tups and gimmers, young dinmonts and yowes,<br>
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| They were there from the uplands and lands lyin’ low.<br>
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| The flower of the Cheviots at Bellingham Show.
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| There were dogs of all classes, both red and white cakes<br>
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| There were cats, cocks and hens, chickens, white ducks and drakes,<br>
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| There were pigs in salt butter, but salted also<br>
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| Dressed sticks and hen eggs at Bellingham Show
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| The farmers looked happy, the wools had a rise<br>
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| The lambs have selled weel, the yowes hev likewise,<br>
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| Their bright smiling faces as they wandered to and fro<br>
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| Bespoke of contentment at Bellingham Show.
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| -----------------and go forth at dawn the next morn<br>
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| Just after the smile when the sweet sun was born,<br>
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| Man the cry of his hounds and his loud tallyho<br>
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| Near eclipsed all the joys of Bellingham Show.
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| == Bellingham Show ==
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| By [[Dalton, Clive|Clive Dalton]]
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| The highlight of our year up the North Tyne, without doubt, was Bellingham Show held in the last week of August for the last many years. We Bellingham residents dated everything in our lives by the Show. Arguments over dates could always be settled by “huw lang it waas afore or eftor the Show”.
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| In farming, we dated such critical events as finishing the hay or the harvest to the Show, when the nights started to cut in and the dews got heavy so you were really struggling to get anything to dry after that. If hay was still standing after Bellingham Show – then you could bet your Rogerson’s hill boots that fettles would not be good.
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| The North Tyne “show season” started with the Border Shepherd’s show at Falstone held about 20 August. Here shepherds put their best sheep before the judge, and if the sheep did well, owners would take them to Bellingham to hopefully “clean up” depending on the judge there. As in all showing, it was critical to know who the judge was. So Falstone show was a taster for Bellingham Show, which was then followed by the later shows up the Rede at Rochester around the 1st September, and then up the Coquet at Alwinton at the end of September to complete the season.
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| The air of excitement at Bellingham Show started to build for us village laddies about a week before the event, when we saw the first tents appear. Then the sheep and cattle pens and the horse jumps came out from under the grandstand. Then a few days before the Show – what excitement, “the hoppings” arrived; it was overwhelming for us yunguns in the 1950s and 1960s.
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| Show day arrived, and a main feature was the noise of steam trains shunting and whistling in the station as the “special” trains from Ashington and Tyneside arrived to deliver their passengers on trips to the show.
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| Joining the throng of folk walking through the village, and heading along around the Catholic turn across the bridge to the show, we could hardly contain ourselves. We never made conversation with these foreigners from Newcassel and beyond as they seemed full of gob and pushy. But the Bellingham pubs (the Railway, Black Bull, Rose & Crown and the Fox & Hounds) welcomed them at 11 am opening time; many never got to the show but they had a great time!
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| At the show field gate, our neighbour Tommy Davidson was there every year with his rose buttonhole to take the money, and once in, you just went daft wondering where to go first.
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| I was always duty bound to check the “industrial tent” to see what prizes Dad had won with his vegetables, and to see if Mother had won owt with her baking or crochet work. Then I went to have my mind blown by the dressed walking sticks from both sides of the Border. This put you off ever trying to even copy the work of these famous men like George Snaith or Ned Henderson.
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| But soon, the livestock had to be checked to watch the judging at the top end of the field near the cemetery wall, where they were sorting out the sheep and cattle. This was a favourite spot – mainly to study the humans and their behaviour as much as the stock! My life-long interest in this subject started here I’m sure, as well as in the dog tent among the exhibitors of the “border terriers, fox honds, Bedlington terriers and whippets from all over the county and outside”.
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| It was from these early days that I realised that given time, owners start to look like their animals! The other place to gain more evidence of this was the goat tent!
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| By late morning the preliminary rounds of the horse jumping had started and also the wrestling. The Northumbrian pipes were ganin canny by then too, so you had this terrible dilemma of deciding which finals to watch.
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| It was aalll ower much. But it was easiest to give the piping a miss as after you’d heard “Sweet Hesleyside” and “The Rothbury Hills” played a hundred times, it was more than enough. However, if you stood in the right place you could watch Dessie Ward cowp all his opponents in the wrestling, and when the roar came from the crowd in the grandstand, you could rush over and catch Doreen Ray riding a clear round for Miss Mitford of Woodburn.
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| There was always a few commercial exhibitor selling their wares and Isaac Walton was very prominent. In their tent, could get measured for a tweed suit or jacked with a nice “single vent country cut” as the salesman (clad in tweed suit), would strongly recommend. I had one of these tweed suits for years.
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| The beer tent was always overflowing but we village laddies gave it a wide berth incase some friendly neighbour saw us! Anyway, it was so full of “full” raucous Geordies, on a constant trek to the primitive nettie made of corrugated iron, that it didn’t have much appeal.
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| But weariness eventually set in as the sun stared to fall, and it was time to get across the Tyne bridge back to the village and heme because there was “The Show Dance” to prepare for in the toon hall! You had to be firing on all cylinders for this event!
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| What a prospect–with the lasses in thor lang dresses trying not to sweat ower much as the North Tyne Melody makers and Billy Richardson the MC gave us little time between dances. We needed that time to get the lasses te sit on wor knees under the premise of a shortage of seats!
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| After 10pm “the lads” from the pubs arrived at the dance, with their caps on acute angles and bottles of beer in their raincoat inside pockets. They were oblivious to the sweltering heat of the hall. The lasses were quite safe as few of them could get across the floor to where they intended to arrive to request a dance! They were far more engaged in a cluster around the bottom door, picking arguments and the occasional fight with their mates.
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| === The poem ===
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| Well, you can see why such an event certainly justified a poem. The late Will Elliott of Greystead, Tarset, gave this version of “Bellingham Show” to me. Nobody ever seemed to know who composed it or when. I’d appreciate any details about this, as the author certainly knew about the enjoyment and hazards of the event and deserves an acknowledgement. The poem especially reflects the importance of the Show for ootbye folk, as an important event of their farming year. The words have been recited and sung at many a Northumberland shepherd’s supper.
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| === Bellingham Show (Anon) ===
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| Aa am an aad heord and aa live far oot bye<br>
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| Aa seldom see owt but the sheep and the kye<br>
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| So Aa says tu wor Betsy Aa think Aa will go<br>
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| Te hev a bit leuk at Bellingham Show.
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| Ah weel, says the auld wife, if the money’s tu spare<br>
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| Aa doot it’s a lang time since ye ha bin there.<br>
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| Wor pack lambs hev seld weel, they’ve a lang time been low<br>
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| So Aa think ye might gan te Bellingham Show.
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| So Aa gits misell drest in me braw Sunday claes<br>
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| In me brass nailed shoes polished as black as two slaes, <br>
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| A big high stand up collar, n’ me tie in a bow<br>
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| Aa looks quite a masher at Bellingham Show.
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| Weel Aa got the to the showfield, Aa managed forst rate<br>
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| N’ Aa paid me bit shilling to get in the gate.<br>
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| Aa met wi some freens whae claried oot, Oh, Ho!<br>
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| Hes thoo really gitten te Bellingham Show.
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| As was feelin gay dry so in we aal went<br>
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| Just for a wee drap an a crack i the tent,<br>
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| Aa sayed mine’s was a haaf ‘n, the rest aal cried Ho!<br>
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| There’s tu be nee haafs at Bellingham Show.
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| Weel we aal hed a glass or it might hev been twee<br>
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| Or tu tell yu thi truth, it might hev bin three,<br>
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| Thi drop that we got set wor heeds in a glow<br>
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| As we taaked ower aad times at Bellingham Show.
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| Aa then had a leuk at the tups and the hoggs<br>
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| The horses, the coos, the fat pigs n’ the dogs,<br>
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| N aal ower the showfield Aa went tu and fro<br>
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| Determined tu miss nowt at Bellingham Show.
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| Aa waas hevin’ a leuk at the butter’n eggs<br>
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| N Aa sat doon on some boxes tu rest me aad legs,<br>
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| Up come n’ aad lady fat, forty ‘n slow<br>
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| Contented ‘n jolly at Bellingham Show.
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| Excuse me she sayed but Aa do hate mistakes<br>
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| But which are the duck’s eggs and which are the drake’s,<br>
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| Aa hev just been wondering, I thowt ye might know<br>
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| There’s intelligent people at Bellingham Show.
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| Aa can tell ye that missus, it’s quite plain tu be seen<br>
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| The duck eggs is white n’ the drakes eggs is green,<br>
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| O hoo simple, she cried, hoo wise yen can grow<br>
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| By makin enquiries at Bellingham Show.
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| Aa steps up tu a chep what waas shaved tu the lips<br>
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| Says Aa, canny man, a pennorth o’ chips.<br>
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| He cursed ‘n sent me tu the pigeons below<br>
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| He was a motor car driver at Bellingham Show.
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| Excuse me, cries Aa, but Aa doot Aa am green<br>
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| Aa thowt ye wor mindin a fried chip machine,<br>
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| Whey man that’s a motor belongin’ lord so and so<br>
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| ‘N wor here for thi day at Bellingham Show.
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| So Aa dodged away roond bi thi edge o’ the crood<br>
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| N Aa smoked me aad pipe in a nice happy mood,<br>
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| When up cums a young queen ‘n cries Uncle Joe<br>
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| Aa’m so glad to hev met yu at Bellingham Show.
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| She gav a bit scream ‘n Aa thowt she waad faint<br>
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| But Aa’s sometimes jelus o’ women what use paint.<br>
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| Oh excuse me says she, ‘n your pardon bestow<br>
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| Mistakes sometimes happen at Bellingham Show.
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| It’s aal reet noo hinney it’s aal reet Aa cried<br>
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| While Aa stooped doon a minit me shoelace tu tie.<br>
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| When Aa leuked up again ‘n me eyes roon did thro’<br>
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| Me relation hed vanished at Bellingham Show.
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| Me heart begen jumpin n’Aa felt fairly spent<br>
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| So aa thowt Aa’d hev a bit glass in the tent,<br>
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| So inside Aa gets, felt me pockets ‘n lo!<br>
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| That fly jade had robbed us at Bellingham Show.
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| So Aa went tu the Bobby an telt him me tale<br>
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| But he saaid Aa waas nowt but a silly aad feul,<br>
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| Tis time ye knew better as aad men shud know<br>
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| Not tu meddle wi lasses at Bellingham Show.
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| Aa got see excited ‘n lood aa did yell<br>
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| That thi Bobby teuk me right off tu the cell,<br>
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| Throo the door he did send me wi’ the tip o’ his toe<br>
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| Saying “Keep yoursell quiet at Bellingham Show”.
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| == Wor not made ‘o munny. ==
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| [[Dalton, Clive|Clive Dalton]]
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| When ye gan te Robbs te buy new claeas<br>
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| And ye membe think it’s funny,<br>
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| Just mek quite sure ye divn’t forget<br>
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| That wor not made ‘o munny.
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| And divn’t gan te Nicholls<br>
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| And cum heme wi expensive honey.<br>
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| Thors plenty of rasp jam in the hoose<br>
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| Cos wor not made ‘o munny.
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| And forget aboot the Sooth ‘o France<br>
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| For a fortnight somewhere sunny.<br>
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| Thors nowt’s rang wi’ a day at Whitley Bay<br>
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| Cos wor not made ‘o munny.
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| And thors nee need for chocolate eggs<br>
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| As gifts from the Easter bunny,<br>
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| Just use them that’s been laid away<br>
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| Cos wor not made ‘o munny.
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| The hoggs is luckin as lean as craas<br>
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| An thor muck’s serious runny,<br>
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| Aa telt the boss they need a dose<br>
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| But he says he’s not made ‘o munny
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| When next ye gan te Hexham<br>
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| And luk for a snack that’s yummy,<br>
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| And hole in te Tommy Nicholls<br>
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| Just remember – wor not made ‘o munny
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| == Bonny Warksburn (John Buglass) ==
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| Oh Bonny Warksburn what changes I’ve seen,<br>
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| These last fifty years in which I have been,<br>
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| Not an old face is left all strangers to me,<br>
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| Yet you run your same course on your way to the sea.
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| Away on the skyline on the hills to the West.<br>
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| Seen the sun go down like a red robins breast,<br>
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| Watched it set behind streamers a sure sign to be,<br>
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| Warksburn would soon fill on its way to the sea.
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| From Blackaburn to the Haining right out to The Green,<br>
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| On these grassy fells some grand flocks I’ve seen,<br>
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| Now a thing of the past nought but tree after tree,<br>
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| Yet you flow through these forests on your way to the sea.
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| Many a fox from his lair has risen of yon moss,<br>
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| With the hounds at his brush where no rider dare cross,<br>
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| The sheep would all scatter a good guide to be,<br>
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| As he swung for Warksburn as it flowed to the sea.
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| The Curlews and Peewits were flying on high,<br>
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| The Skylarks were singing on the hills far out bye,<br>
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| The herds with their collies were out in great glee,<br>
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| As they headed for Warksburn as it flowed to the sea.
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| On its banks has been built a village up to date,<br>
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| An outstanding model of the modern state,<br>
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| Yet the morning mist rises and hangs over thee,<br>
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| As it follows your course on your way to the sea.
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| But time marches on soon I’ll see you no more,<br>
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| Must join my old friends that have gone on before,<br>
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| There will be many changes, changes I’ll never see,<br>
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| But you’ll run on forever on your way to the sea.
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| == The Bairnies Cuddle Doon (Anon) ==
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| The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht<br>
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| Wi, muckle faught an, din<br>
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| Oh try and sleep, ye waukrife rogues<br>
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| Your faither’s comin’ in<br>
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| They never heed a word I speak<br>
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| I try to gie a froon<br>
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| Buy aye I hap them up an’ cry<br>
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| Oh, bairnies cuddle doon
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| Wee Jamie wi’ the curly heid<br>
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| He aye sleeps next the wa<br>
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| Bangs up an’ cries,”I want a piece”<br>
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| The rascal starts them a’<br>
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| I rinan’ fetch them pieces, drinks<br>
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| They stop awe the soun’, <br>
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| Then draw the blankets up an’ cry<br>
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| “Noo, weanies, cuddle doon”
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| But ere five minutes gang wee Rab<br>
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| Cries out, frae neath the claes<br>
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| “Mither, mak’ Tam gie ower at once<br>
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| He’s kittlin’ wi’ his taes“<br>
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| The mischief’s in that Tam for tricks<br>
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| He’d bother half the toon<br>
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| But aye I hap them up and cry<br>
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| “Oh bairnies cuddle doon”
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| At length they hear their faither’s fit<br>
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| An’ as he steeks the door<br>
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| They turn their faces to the wa’<br>
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| While Tam pretends to snore<br>
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| “Hae a’ the weans been gude?” he asks<br>
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| As he pits off his shoon<br>
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| “The bairnies, John, are in their beds<br>
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| An’ land since cuddled doon”
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| An’ just afore we bed oorsel’s<br>
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| We look at oor wee lambs<br>
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| Tam has his airm roun’ wee Rab’s neck<br>
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| And Rab his airm round Tam’s<br>
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| I lift wee Jamie up the bed<br>
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| An’ as I straik each croon<br>
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| I whisper till my heart fills up<br>
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| “Oh bairnies, cuddle doon”<br>
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| The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht<br>
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| Wi’ mirth that’s dear to me<br>
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| But soon the big warl’s cark an’ care<br>
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| Will quaten doon their flee<br>
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| Yet come what will to ilka ane<br>
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| May he wha rules aboon<br>
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| Aye whisper though their pows be bald<br>
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| “Oh, bairnies, cuddle doon
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| == The Lads that were Reared Among Heather (Anon) ==
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| Come all ye young lasses whar hae ye been<br>
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| Sae sleepy and drowsy, I ken by your een<br>
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| In all the wide world, you’ll ne’er find a frien’<br>
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| Like the lads that were reared among heather
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| Awa’ wi’yer satins, yer silks and yer shawls<br>
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| Yer soirees and yer parties and yer elegant balls<br>
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| For a dance in the barn’s worth ten in the hall<br>
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| Wi’ the lads that were reared among heather<br>
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| Tak’ a walk roon yer cities, braw buildings outside<br>
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| Gaze on the splendours and the wonder with pride<br>
| |
| Fine ships have been built, on the banks o’ the Clyde<br>
| |
| By the lads that were reared among heather
| |
| | |
| Awa’ wi’ yer satins, yer silk and yer shawls<br>
| |
| Yer soirees and yer parties and yer elegant balls<br>
| |
| For a dance in the barn’s worth ten in the hall<br>
| |
| Wi the lads that were reared among heather
| |
| | |
| When the Queen wants some soldiers, she kens whaur to send<br>
| |
| To the mountains and valleys, the hills and the glens<br>
| |
| Wi’ their bonnets and plaids, they’re aye true tae the end<br>
| |
| Are the lads that wers reared among heather
| |
| | |
| Awa’ wi’ yer satins, yer silks and yer shawls<br>
| |
| Yer soirees and yer parties and yer elegant balls<br>
| |
| For a dance in the barn’s worth ten in the hall<br>
| |
| Wi the lads that were reared among heather
| |
| | |
| Now England can boast for the seet scented rose<br>
| |
| And Ireland can boast for the shamrock she grows<br>
| |
| But gi’ me the land, where the clear water flows<br>
| |
| And the mountains are covered with heather
| |
| | |
| Awa’ wi’ yer satins, yer silks and yer shawls,<br>
| |
| Yer soirees and yer parties and yer elegant balls<br>
| |
| For a dance in the barn’s worth ten in the hall<br>
| |
| Wi’ the lads that were reared among heather
| |
| | |
| Awa’ wi’ yer satins, yer silks and yer shawls<br>
| |
| Yer soirees and yer parties and yer elegant balls<br>
| |
| For a dance in the barn’s worth ten in the hall<br>
| |
| Wi’ the lads that were reared among heather
| |
| | |
| == The Dosin ‘O the Hoggs (Anon) ==
| |
| The The back end again is wi’ us and the wund blaas cauld and chill <br>
| |
| moorland herds are at it wi’ their usefu’ collie dogs<br>
| |
| Busy pairtin’ aa’ and sheddin’ for the dosin’ o’ the hoggs.
| |
| | |
| Auld Grumpy she’s been dieted on cows new milk and grass<br>
| |
| Her dung collected an’ aal stirred up intae a sickly mess.<br>
| |
| A glessfu’ doon each throat is teemed, then oot ontae the foggs<br>
| |
| For four and twenty hoors completes the dosin’ o’ the hoggs.
| |
| | |
| Aa spiered o’ ma freend Danny. Aa spiered o’ Jock o’ the Nick<br>
| |
| They aa’ declared for sickness ‘twas a glorious specific.<br>
| |
| But Wullie o’ the Seven Sykes said he wad bet his clogs,<br>
| |
| ‘Twas just an auld wife’s fancy, was the dosin’ o’ the hoggs.
| |
| | |
| Aa says, “ Ye surely dinna think it does nee guid ava’”<br>
| |
| “Na na,” says he “Last year we dosed, Aa hed an aafu’ Fall.<br>
| |
| Next mornin’ fifteen lyin’ deed, as cauld and stiff as logs.”<br>
| |
| “Na,na,” says he “Aa’ll no believe o’ the dosin’ o’ the hoggs”
| |
| | |
| Wi opinion sae divided, whee hes yin tae believe?<br>
| |
| If ye dose them they will sicken, if ye dinna they’ll no’ leeve.<br>
| |
| This amuses mony an auld herd as through his flock he jogs.<br>
| |
| It’s a varry kittle business, is the dosin’ o’ the hoggs.
| |
| | |
| == Bonny Warksburn (John Buglass) ==
| |
| Oh Bonny Warksburn what changes I’ve seen,<br>
| |
| These last fifty years in which I have been,<br>
| |
| Not an old face is left all strangers to me,<br>
| |
| Yet you run your same course on your way to the sea.
| |
| | |
| Away on the skyline on the hills to the West.<br>
| |
| Seen the sun go down like a red robins breast,<br>
| |
| Watched it set behind streamers a sure sign to be,<br>
| |
| Warksburn would soon fill on its way to the sea.
| |
| | |
| From Blackaburn to the Haining right out to The Green,<br>
| |
| On these grassy fells some grand flocks I’ve seen,<br>
| |
| Now a thing of the past nought but tree after tree,<br>
| |
| Yet you flow through these forests on your way to the sea.
| |
| | |
| Many a fox from his lair has risen of yon moss,<br>
| |
| With the hounds at his brush where no rider dare cross,<br>
| |
| The sheep would all scatter a good guide to be,<br>
| |
| As he swung for Warksburn as it flowed to the sea.
| |
| | |
| The Curlews and Peewits were flying on high,<br>
| |
| The Skylarks were singing on the hills far out bye,<br>
| |
| The herds with their collies were out in great glee,<br>
| |
| As they headed for Warksburn as it flowed to the sea.
| |
| | |
| On its banks has been built a village up to date,<br>
| |
| An outstanding model of the modern state,<br>
| |
| Yet the morning mist rises and hangs over thee,<br>
| |
| As it follows your course on your way to the sea.
| |
| | |
| But time marches on soon I’ll see you no more,<br>
| |
| Must join my old friends that have gone on before,<br>
| |
| There will be many changes, changes I’ll never see,<br>
| |
| But you’ll run on forever on your way to the sea.
| |
| | |
| == The North Tyne Foxhunters (John Buglass) ==
| |
| Did ye ever ken Tom Robson<br>
| |
| The great hunting king<br>
| |
| When hunting his hounds<br>
| |
| Made Warksburn fairly ring<br>
| |
| Ye would ken Jim Murray<br>
| |
| And his little black mare<br>
| |
| The sound of his horn<br>
| |
| Raised the fox from his lair
| |
| | |
| Chorus
| |
| | |
| Then hark on to Fairy<br>
| |
| Her note we all know<br>
| |
| Hark Hallo he’s away<br>
| |
| Tally-O, Tally-O
| |
| | |
| Ye would ken Barty Charlton<br>
| |
| Lang master o’ the pack<br>
| |
| Through mosses and flows<br>
| |
| He knew every track<br>
| |
| Ye would ken Jimmy Thompson<br>
| |
| A real canny sort<br>
| |
| Who carried the horn<br>
| |
| And gave us great sport
| |
| | |
| Chorus
| |
| | |
| Ye all ken Tommy Walton<br>
| |
| In his black hunting cap<br>
| |
| The master at the moment<br>
| |
| And a gay canny chap<br>
| |
| With John Thompson the whip<br>
| |
| And Lofty the hound<br>
| |
| They’ll soon bowl him over<br>
| |
| If he stays above ground
| |
| | |
| Chorus
| |
| | |
| You’ll all remember Ralph Thompson<br>
| |
| And Bracelet his hound<br>
| |
| It was “Hark” on to Bracelet<br>
| |
| Whenever they found<br>
| |
| You’ll all ken Dick Davison<br>
| |
| First man in the chase<br>
| |
| Uphill and through dale<br>
| |
| He goes a great pace
| |
| | |
| Chorus
| |
| | |
| Ye all ken Joe Murray<br>
| |
| Who lives at Whitehill<br>
| |
| He has hunted 50 years<br>
| |
| And he’s hunting still<br>
| |
| Ye all ken Jimmy Little<br>
| |
| Still hearty and hale<br>
| |
| Always had a hound<br>
| |
| At a hunt or a trail
| |
| | |
| Chorus
| |
| | |
| Ye all ken Graham Robson<br>
| |
| The master of finance<br>
| |
| A pound for the funds<br>
| |
| He’ll not miss a chance<br>
| |
| Let them sing to these hunters<br>
| |
| As the years roll by<br>
| |
| May the coming generations<br>
| |
| Let their names never die
| |
| | |
| Chorus
| |
| | |
| == Canny Shepherd Laddie O the Hills (Anon) ==
| |
| There's songs aboot oor soldiers and oor sailors by the score,<br>
| |
| Of tinkers and of tailors and of others there's galore;<br>
| |
| But I'll sing ye a song that you've never heard before,<br>
| |
| It's the canny shepherd laddie o' the hills.
| |
| | |
| Chorus
| |
|
| |
| Oh the shepherds o the Coquet, the Alwin and the Rede,<br>
| |
| The Bowment and the Breamish, they're all the same breed,<br>
| |
| Wi their collie dog beside them and a stick with horn heid<br>
| |
| It's the canny shepherd laddie o' the hills.
| |
|
| |
| Chorus
| |
| | |
| They climb oot ower the mountain ere it's turned the break o' day,<br>
| |
| Through the bent and moss hags and round bogs they wend their way,<br>
| |
| Quick tae see a mawkit yin or a sheep that's strayed away,<br>
| |
| It's the canny shepherd laddie o' the hills.
| |
|
| |
| Chorus
| |
|
| |
| They send the collie around the sheep with a yell o "Gan oot wide"<br>
| |
| Then whistle with the notes so shrill the dog drops in his stride<br>
| |
| "Come by Moss! Doon a bit I'll tak my stick oot ower yer hide"<br>
| |
| It's the canny shepherd laddie o' the hills.
| |
|
| |
| Chorus
| |
|
| |
| If the lambing time is stormy he will curse and he will swear<br>
| |
| There's a yowe that's lost its lamb and I've skinned an auld yowe there,<br>
| |
| Some o them have ta'en the sickness, nae mair trouble can I bear<br>
| |
| It's the canny shepherd laddie o' the hills.
| |
|
| |
| Chorus
| |
|
| |
| In the back-end tae the marts he'll gang if the prices they are dear<br>
| |
| To celebrate he'll treat his pals tae whisky and tae beer,<br>
| |
| But if the prices they are bad, it taks a dram tae cheer<br>
| |
| The canny shepherd laddie o' the hills.<br>
| |
|
| |
| Chorus
| |
|
| |
| In the winter when its stormy and drifts are piling high<br>
| |
| He'll never flinch tae tak the risk that in the snow he may die<br>
| |
| His first care is his sheep are settled and sheltered safe may lie<br>
| |
| The canny shepherd laddie o' the hills.
| |
|
| |
| Chorus
| |
|
| |
| At Alwinton they may turn oot tae see the Shepherds' Show<br>
| |
| Then into Foreman's for a drink they with their cronies go,<br>
| |
| They'll argue and they'll sing and shout, but fecht, well bless me no<br>
| |
| The canny shepherd laddie o' the hills.
| |
|
| |
| Chorus
| |
|
| |
| Now if ye've gaun among them as A've done for forty years<br>
| |
| Nae kinder hearted folk you'll meet if you look far or near<br>
| |
| The kettl'e set a boiling and they cry "Sit you doon here"<br>
| |
| The canny shepherd laddie o' the hills.
| |
|
| |
| Chorus
| |
|
| |
| A've said nae words aboot their wives A'm shair there is no need<br>
| |
| But in every house I've been tae yet they seem tae be the heid,<br>
| |
| And I'm sure you'll all agree with me, it taks a hell of a good wife to breed<br>
| |
| A canny shepherd laddie o' the hills.
| |
| | |
| == Nicky Tams (Anon) ==
| |
| Nicky Tams where thongs of leather, or lengths of string, that were tied round the trouser, just below the knees, to keep the bottom of their trouser out of the muck.
| |
| | |
| When I wis barely twelve years auld I left the pairish school.<br>
| |
| My faither fee’d me tae the mains tae chaw his milk and meal.<br>
| |
| First I pit on my narra breeks tae hap my spinnel trams,<br>
| |
| Syne happit roon my knappin knees a pair o’ nicky tams.
| |
| | |
| Well, first I gaed on for baillie’s loon and syne I gaed on for third,<br>
| |
| And syne, of coorse, I had to get the horseman’s grip and word,<br>
| |
| A loaf of breid tae be my piece and a bottle for drinking drams,<br>
| |
| Ye daurna gang thro’ thecalf-hoose door withouut your nicky tams.
| |
| | |
| The fairmer I am wi’ the noo, he’s wealthy but he’s mean.<br>
| |
| The corn is cheap, his horse is thin, and his harness fairly deen.<br>
| |
| He gars us load oor cairts ower fu’, his conscience has nae qualms,<br>
| |
| When breist straps brak there’ naethin’ like a pair o’ nicky tams.
| |
| | |
| I’m coortin’ bonnie Annie noo, Rab Tamson’s kitchie deem,<br>
| |
| O she is five and forty and I’m but seventeen.<br>
| |
| She clorts a mickle piece tae me wi’ different kinds o’ jams,<br>
| |
| And tells me ilka nicht that she admires my nicky tams.
| |
| | |
| Ae Sunday mornin’ I gaed oot, the kirkie for to gang,<br>
| |
| My collar it was unco ticht, my brreks were nane ower lang.<br>
| |
| I had my Bible in my pooch, likewise my book o’ psalms,<br>
| |
| When Annie roars, “Ye muckle gype, tak aff yer nicky tams!”
| |
| | |
| So, unco sweer, I took them aff, the lassie for to please,<br>
| |
| But aye my breeks they lurkit up aroon aboot my knees.<br>
| |
| An a wasp gaed crawlin’ up my leg in the middle o’ the Psalms.<br>
| |
| O never again will I rade the Kirk withoot my nicky tams.
| |
| | |
| Noo, I’ve aften thocht I’d like tae be a bobby on the Force,<br>
| |
| Or mebbe be a tramwayman and drive a pair o’ horse.<br>
| |
| Whatever it’s my fate tae be, the bobbies or the trams,<br>
| |
| I’ll ne’er forget the happy days I wore my nicky tams
| |
