by Thomas Thompson

'Bout Lunnun aw'd heard sec wonderful spokes,
That the streets were a'cover'd wi' guineas;
The houses se fine, sec grandees the folks,
Te them hus i' th' North were but ninnies,
But aw fand ma-sel blonk'd when to Lunnun I gat,
The folks they a'luck'd wishy-washy;
For gould ye may howk till ye're blind as a bat,
For their streets are like wors -- brave and blashy.

A Cockney chep show'd me the Thames' druvy feace,
Whilk he said was the pride o'the nation,
And though at their shippin' aw'd maek a haze gaze,
But aw whop'd ma foot on his noration;
Wi' huz, mun, three hundred ships sail iv a tide,
We think nouse on't, aw'll maek accydavy,
Ye're a gouck if ye din't knaw that the lads o' Tyneside
Are the jacks that maek famish wor Navy.

We went big St paul's and Westminster to see,
And aw warn't ye aw thought they luck'd pretty,
And then we'd a keek at the Monument te,
Whilk ma friend ca'd the pearl o' the city:
Wey hinny, says aw, we've a Shot Tower se hee,
That biv it ye might scraffle to heaven,
And if on St. Nicholas ye once cus' an e'e,
Ye'd crack on't as lang as ye're livin.

We trudg'd to St. James's, for there the king lives,
Aw warn'd ye a gud stare we teuckon't;
By my faicks! it's been built up by Adam's aun neaves,
For it's aud as the hills by the leuk on't;
Shem bin ye! says I, ye shou'd keep the King douse,
I speak it without ony malice;
Aw own that wor Mayor rather wants a new house,
But then wor Infirm'ry's a palace.

Ah hinnies, out cum the King, while we were there,
His leuks seem'd to say, "Bairns, be happy!"
So down o' my hunkers aw set up a blare,
For God to preserve him frae Nappy:
For Georgdy aw'd dee -- for my loyalty's trig,
And aw own he's a geud leukin mannie;
But if wor Sir Matthew ye buss iv his wig,
By gocks! he wad just leuk as canny.

Ah hinnies! about us the lasses did loup,
Thick as curns in a spice singin hinnie,
Some adu an'some harldy flig'd ower the doup,
But aw ken'd what they were by their whinnie.
A'! mannie, says aw, ye hev mony a tite girl,
But aw'm tell'd they're oft het i' their trappin',
Aw'd cuddle much rather a lass i' the Sworl,
Than the dolls i' the Strand or i' Wappin'.

Wiv a' the stravaging aw wanted a munch,
An' ma thropple was ready to gizen;
So we went tiv a yell-house and there teuk a lunch,
But the reck'ning, my saul, was a bizon.
Wiv huz i' th' North, when aw'm wairsh i' my way
(But te knaw wor warm hearts ye yur-sell come),
Aw lift the first latch, and baith man and dame say,
Cruck yor hough, canny man, for ye're welcome.

A shillin' aw thought at the play hoose aw'd ware,
But aw jump'd there wiv heuk-fingere'd people,
My pockets gat ripp'd an' aw heard ne mair,
Nor aw could frae Saint Nicholas' steeple,
Dang Lunnun, wor play-hoose aw like just as weel,
And wor play-folks aw's sure are as funny,
A shillin's worth serves me to laugh till aw squeel,
Ne hallion there trimmels ma money.

The loss o' the cotterels aw dinna regaird,
For aw've getten som white-heft o' Lunnun;
Aw've learned to prefer my awn canny calf-yard,
If ye catch me mair fra't ye'll be cunnun'.
Aw knaw that the Cockneys crake rum-gum-shus chimes
To maek gam of wor bur and wor 'parel;
But honest blind Willie shall string this iv rhymes,
And aw'll sing'd for a Christmas Carol.