Sandgate Pant; or, Jane Jemieson's Ghost

The bell of St. Ann's toll'd two in the morning,
As brave Skipper Johnson was gawn to the keel--
From the juice of the barley his poor brain was burning--
In search of relief he through Sandgate did reel;
The city was hush, save the keel-bullies' snoring--
The moon faintly gleam'd through the sable-clad sky--
When lo! a poor female her hard fate deploring,
Appear'd near the pant, and thus loudly did cry:--
Ripe Chenee oranges, four for a penny!
Cherry ripe cornberries--taste them and try!

O listen, ye hero of Sandgate and Stella,
Jin Jemieson kens that yor courage is trig,
Go tell Billy Elli to meet me, brave fellow--
Aw'll wait yor return on Newcassel Tyne Brig!--
Oh, marcy! cried Johnson, yor looks gar me shiver!
Maw canny lass, Jin, let me fetch him next tide;
The spectre then frown'd--and he vanish'd for ever,
While Sandgate did ring as she vengefully cried--
Fine Chenee oranges, four for a penny!
Cherry ripe cornberries--taste them and try!

She waits for her lover, each night at this station,
And calls her ripe fruit with a voice loud and clear;
The keel-bullies listen in great consternation--
Tho' snug in their huddocks, they tremble with fear!
She sports round the pant till the cock, in the morning,
Announces the day--then away she does fly
Till midnight's dread hour--thus each maiden's peace scorning,
They start from their couch as they hear her loud cry--
Fine Chenee oranges, four for a penny!
Cherry ripe cornberries--taste them and try!