Amble poem
Hello,
I was loaned a book on Northumberland which was published by the Co-op in 1945. It contained the attached poem, written in dialect about Amble. I can place some of the names and thought others may find it interesting.
Rodney Burge
Ladbroke Street,
Amble
Amble
Noo lads aa git up ta giv ye a bit sang,
Its aal aboot Amble, th’ place ye belang,
Aal not stop ye lang, but aal tell aal aa naa,
An’ we’ll start at th’ top, that th’caal Markie’s Raa.
Noo when ye cum by th’ place aa neym’d last,
There’s th’ Mason’s arms, ye mun cum straight past,
For if ye git in an’ git sittin’ doon,
Ye’ll not see nae mair of wor canny toon.
Th’ nixt that aal menshun, is White’s th’ grossers shop,
There’s others in Amble, so divvent there stop,
For when ye git doon a bit fathorr alang,
Ye’ll see on the sign written, “George Pattersan.”
Then there’s th’ Wellwood, th’ greet Fox an Hoonds,
Th’ Gardeners Arms an’ th’ famus Coulsons,
Then there’s Jim Elder, th’ big Aucshuneer,
He sell aa the hooses roond aboot here.
Then there’s Harker, th’ musick teacher, sae grand,
And Barrie th’ draper, lives close at hand,
Noo enter wor Main Street, an’ see that greet famus shop,
It’s neym’d Walter Wilson’s an licks th’ whole lot.
Then there’s th’ Waterloo an’ Broon’s grand toy shop,
Then into aad Chambers th’ kimist ye’ll pop,
For curin’ th’ teethwark, there’s nowt like th’ sayme,
Bi runnin’ his ointment right inta the bayne.
Then there’s Dick Graham, th’ butchor, an’ Shotton, as weel,
If ye want a bit mutton, or a little bit veal,
An’ there’s the hotel, kept bi Tom Straker,
An’ ower th’ road, John Howey th’ baker.
Then there’sCammells th’ watchmaker, jeist on th’ left hand,
He’ll mend up yor watches an’ make them gan grand,
Ta McInnes, ma lads, ye gan for th’ news,
Then inta Pat Hassins, ye gan for yor shoes.
Then there’s Harts for refreshments, and Joe Tuck’s for ware,
An then to th’ barbers that cuts aa yor hair,
Doon to Penrose’s ye gan for yor pipe,
Then inta aad Mary’s ye gan for yor tripe.
Noo lads, aa think a’ve tell’d ye a gud pairt o’ wor toon,
So away ta th’ Harboor, we’ll hae ta gan doon,
But, how’ld, aa forgot, there’s a little bit more,
There’s Hedley th’ draper, jeist opposite th’ store.
When ye git ta th’ harbour, it’s clivvor to see,
Th’ steam boats an’ sailin’ ships all gan ta sea,
Ye torn th’ corner, ta cum up Brumhill Street,
There’s Murphy confecshuner and Kendal for meat.
Then there’s Turnbull th’ grosser, an’ others aal tell,
There’s th’ Steam Boat, th’ Schooner an’ Harboor hotel,
Noo lads, all jeist finish, a’ve been rather lang,
But aa hope ye’ve not heard ony harm I’me sang.
Robert Mitchinson
