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John Spencer

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John Spencer

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John Spencer

 Maw nyem it is Jack Spencer,
 Aw hawk aboot the toon.
 Aw try ti' keep yor sporrits up
 When ye are lettin them gan doon;
 Aw'm not like the priests that preach,
 And tells ye hoo te get ti heaven,
 Aw patter hard yor hearts ti cheer,
 And get an honest livin.

 Spoken- Black Combs, Side Combs, Ear Rings, Breast Pins, Steel Pens!

 Cho: Cock-a-doodle-dow, cock -a - doodle-doodle,
     Cock-a doodle-dow, cock-a doodle-doodle.

 Aw used ti try the peep-show dodge,
 But that suin turned oot stale,
 And then a quack doctor aw turned,
 The flats aw used ti nail;
 But one day a bobby he nailed me
 For stannin in the street,
 And ti the manors he tuik me up,
 And kept me there all neet.

 Aw gets oot the next morning,
 An' gans up ti Clayton Street,
 Aw call'd inti Young's the sign o' the Clock,
 An' maw box was there all ret!
 Aw there falls in wi' Adam Scott,
 An each of us had a glass of whisky;
 Adam danced a hornpipe fine,
 Mesel, aw sung the Bay of Biscay.

 The servant lass she says ti me--
 Aw say, John, d'ye want a wife?
 No! no! says aw, d'ye think aw'm fond,
 Or tired of maw life,--
 Says aw, thor's mair gets married noo
 Then what can manage to keep gud houses,
 An' when we are working hard for brass,
 Wi' yor nibers ye gan an' boozes.

 Aw used ti follow a nice young lass,
 She leev'd up Westgate hill,
 Aw used ti take her ower the moor
 ti see the rifles drill;
 Oft ti Tynemouth in her Sunday out,
 Aw've seen us byeth sail doon the Tyne,
 We'd cum up agyen wi' the eight train,
 An' get her in tiv her place at nine.

 So noo aw think aw'll cut me stick,
 Aw've teld ye all what aw hev been,
 An lang may Victoria leeve.
 That is ye knaw wor canny Queen!
 And lang may the soup kitchen stand
 For ivery working man an' woman,
 And aw hope it'll not be lang
 Before we see the gud time cumin'.

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