| Page |
| As I cam thro’ Sandgate, thro’ Sandgate, thro’ Sandgate | 5 |
| Whe’s like my Johnny | ib. |
| My bonny keel laddie, my canny keel laddie | 7 |
| ’Twas between Hebbron and Jarrow | 8 |
| Where hast’te been, ma’ canny hinny | 9 |
| Fresh I’m cum fra Sandgate Street | 10 |
| Roll on thy way, thrice happy Tyne | 11 |
| Near Blackett’s Field, sad hov’ring | 12 |
| Like wolves of the forest, ferocious and keen | 14 |
| When unprovok’d, when foreign foes | 15 |
| John Diggons be I, from a Country Town | 16 |
| In a battle, you know, we Britons are strong | 18 |
| Turks, Infidels, Pagans, Jews, Christians and Tartars | 19 |
| When Fame brought the news of Great Britain’s success | 21 |
| The jailor, for trial, had brought up a thief | 23 |
| Ho’way and aw’ll sing thee a tune, mun | 25 |
| Odd smash! ’tis hard aw can’t rub dust off | 27 |
| Come marrows, we’ve happen’d to meet now | 29 |
| Fareweel, fareweel, ma comely pet | 31 |
| Whilst the dread voice of war thro’ the welkin rebellows | 33 |
| Whilst the dread voice of war thro’ our island rebellows | 34 |
| As me and my marrow was ganning to wark | 35 |
| If I had another penny | 36 |
| The bonny pit laddie, the cannie pit laddie | ib. |
| Hae ye heard o’ these wond’rous dons | 37 |
| The Baff week is o’er—no repining— | 38 |
| On each market day, Sir, the folks on the Quay, Sir | 43 |
| Lads! myek a ring | 45 |
| I was a young maiden truly | 48 |
| My muse took flight the other day | 49 |
| When war’s destructive rage did cease | 53 |
| Rough roll’d the roaring river’s stream | 56 |
| Attend to my summons, ye British Electors | 57 |
| To sing some nymph in her cot | 58 |
| When cooling zephyrs wanton play | 59 |
| Whilst bards, in strains that sweetly flow | 60 |
| Oh! where, and oh where does your bonny lassie dwell | 61 |
| Should the French in Newcastle but dare to appear | 62 |
| Talk no more of brave Nelson, or gallant Sir Sidney | 63 |
| On Rhenish, Medeira, Port, Cleret and Sherry | 66 |
| Ye sons of Parnassus, whose brains are inspir’d | 67 |
| Who’s he that with great Mercury strides | 68 |
| Allons, sweet childs, of smooth complexion | 70 |
| Great was the consternation, amazement and dismay, Sir | 73 |
| The young brood fairly fledgR
d>Durham’s old city thus salutes her king | 291 |
| As aw was gannin to Durham | 292 |
| While visiting this dark abode | ib. |
| Lov’d stream, that meanders along | 293 |
| Its hey for the buff and the blue | 294 |
| At home wad I be | 296 |
| Its o but I ken well | ib. |
| Up the raw, ma bonny hinny | 297 |
| If you want a busom | 298 |
| Up the Butcher bank | 299 |
| Saw ye owt o’ ma’ lad | 300 |
| Brandling for ever, and Ridley for aye | ib. |
| My laddie sits owre late up | 301 |
| They’ve prest my dear Johnny | ib. |
| Neighbours I’m come for to tell ye, our skipper and Moll’s to be wed | 302 |
| Old Jarrow, long fam’d for monastical lore | 304 |
| The sailors are all at the bar | 306 |
| We’ll all away to the Lowlights | ib. |
| Six centeries since, some say, a son of South Seaton | 307 |
| God prosper long our warlike king | 309 |
| There is not in the world’s terraqueous round | 310 |
| Whence those cries, my soul that harrow | 312 |
| ’Bout Lunnun aw’d heard sec wonderful spokes | 314 |
| Croney its now near thirty year | 316 |
| ’Tis said that in the good old times | 319 |
| The Antigallican’s safe arriv’d | 320 |
| Of Temple and King, my friends, let us sing | 321 |
| All the night over and over | 322 |
| O lovely Tyne, thy beauty’s seen | ib. |
