1876 Drownings - a Poem

THE SAD STORY OF WILLIE WILSON AND JOHNNY ARMSTRONG

There was a house in Percy Street, Where this true story starts A story with a meaning To take into your hearts.

One day in eighteen seventy six One morning, half past nine, Two lads set off together To fish the River Tyne.

Willie took his fishing rod, A present from his Dad His pride and joy, a cherished gift, The best he’d ever had.

The pair ran through the Station Yard, The fishing rod held high, The station master saw them run, And gave a mighty sigh.

“Stop, stop!” he cried with all his might, The River Tyne’s in flood, Turn back,” he cried, “Turn back, my boys, Turn back, you know you should!”

The boys heard not the master’s words, Or did not care to hear, Intent upon the fishing pool, A place they held so dear.

They thought the fishing pool looked safe, But fish were not about, So Willie took his fishing rod And waded further out.

As Willie waded further out, His foot caught on a rock, He forward fell and with a cry Went under with the shock.

The fishing rod, his pride and joy, Fell quickly from his hand, And left poor Willie splashing And trying hard to stand.

As Willie could not swim a stroke, His panic grew and grew, He slipped beneath the water And disappeared from view.

And Johnny heard the shouting. Just what was he to do? He too went in the water And disappeared from view.

Now Father Tyne, that lovely stream, Held in his waves the two: One friend drowned with the other, And disappeared from view.

A tailor chanced upon the scene And soon became aware That things were going really wrong And tried to save the pair.

He went into the water And waded out anew To help the two lads in their plight But disappeared from view.

A bobby was the next to come Upon this sorry scene But found he could do nothing For no one could be seen.

So Father Tyne upon that day Had human lives for tea And pulled beneath his waves Not one, nor two but three.

The fishing rod was later found Washed safe upon the shore, Without its grateful owner For Willie was no more.

But, if you walk through Station Yard Where once our two lads trod, The ghost of Willie’s often seen Still looking for his rod.

Still looking for his fishing rod, A present from his Dad, His prized possession, pride and joy, The best he’d ever had.

This is a sad old story From times long past and dim: It has a modern meaning: You must learn how to swim.