The songs of the Wilsons With a memoir of the Family, and several additional songs never before published. Edited by John Harland |
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JOHNNY GREEN'S TRIP FRO' OWDAM TO SEE A BALLOON ASCENT. |
 | The songs of the Wilsons |  |
50
JOHNNY GREEN'S TRIP FRO' OWDAM TO SEE A BALLOON ASCENT.
By Mr Alexander Wilson.
To-day at noon fro' th' loom aw went,
On Measter Green's balloon intent,—
They loosent th' cuords, an' up he went,
It really wurn deleightink;
Aw could naw gawm what th' felly meant,
For as soon as e'er he made th' ascent,
He seem'd as up to th' skoy he 'r bent,
An' up to th' moon o' feightink.
On Measter Green's balloon intent,—
They loosent th' cuords, an' up he went,
It really wurn deleightink;
Aw could naw gawm what th' felly meant,
For as soon as e'er he made th' ascent,
He seem'd as up to th' skoy he 'r bent,
An' up to th' moon o' feightink.
Aw know naw what betook th' owd lad,
He whirl'd his hat loike hey-go-mad,
Thinks aw t' mysell theaw 'rt none so glad,
Or theaw 'd naw want to jump, mon;
For jump aw 'r sure he really would,
Aw thowt his leeitink pleck noan good,
So bawkt as leawd os e'er aw could,—
“Theaw 'll get a regglar bump, mon.”
He whirl'd his hat loike hey-go-mad,
Thinks aw t' mysell theaw 'rt none so glad,
Or theaw 'd naw want to jump, mon;
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Aw thowt his leeitink pleck noan good,
So bawkt as leawd os e'er aw could,—
“Theaw 'll get a regglar bump, mon.”
An' then he whizz'd a colour reawnd,
While folk did make the air reseawnd;
By gum, if aw 'r wi' suvereigns crown'd,
Aw durst not go so heigh, mon.
Boh eh! hew folk did leaugh i' th' creawd,
When aw sung eawt,—“Owd lad, theaw 'rt sowd;
If t'hits thi yead ogain a cleawd,
Aw 'd naw for th' ward be thee, mon.”
While folk did make the air reseawnd;
By gum, if aw 'r wi' suvereigns crown'd,
Aw durst not go so heigh, mon.
Boh eh! hew folk did leaugh i' th' creawd,
When aw sung eawt,—“Owd lad, theaw 'rt sowd;
If t'hits thi yead ogain a cleawd,
Aw 'd naw for th' ward be thee, mon.”
Wheere he 'r gooink aw connaw say,
Some said to France, an' some said nay;
Aw think he 's off to Bothomy Bay,
Ta feight wi' th' Turks and Greeks, surs.
Boh soon he lost hissell i' th' air,
An th' diel go wi' him for aught aw care:
For what wi' him an' Knott Mill Fair,
Aw 've done no wark this week, surs.
Some said to France, an' some said nay;
Aw think he 's off to Bothomy Bay,
Ta feight wi' th' Turks and Greeks, surs.
Boh soon he lost hissell i' th' air,
An th' diel go wi' him for aught aw care:
For what wi' him an' Knott Mill Fair,
Aw 've done no wark this week, surs.
No mon knows what may come to pass;
Balloons may do some good, by th' mass;
Eawr Owdam chaps mot mak some brass,
If tey 'd imploy th' balloon folk;
They sen the moon 's a right cowd hole,
If Measter Green, that hearty soul,
Would carry up some Owdam coal,
Aw'm shure they 'd sell to th' moon folk.
Balloons may do some good, by th' mass;
Eawr Owdam chaps mot mak some brass,
If tey 'd imploy th' balloon folk;
They sen the moon 's a right cowd hole,
If Measter Green, that hearty soul,
Would carry up some Owdam coal,
Aw'm shure they 'd sell to th' moon folk.
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Moy scheum is grand, aw know yo 'll say,
No horses for to eat your hay,
Nor tow-bars on th' road to pay,
Eh! heaw it maks my brain goo;
For if his steeum by choance is done,
An' deawn ogean he meons to come,
Reight weel he con, soft soap, by gum,
An' then slip deawn the rainbow.
No horses for to eat your hay,
Nor tow-bars on th' road to pay,
Eh! heaw it maks my brain goo;
For if his steeum by choance is done,
An' deawn ogean he meons to come,
Reight weel he con, soft soap, by gum,
An' then slip deawn the rainbow.
| The songs of the Wilsons | |