"GORTON TOWN" SONG
Gosh, dang it, lads, were coming again,
Though many a mile Ive been;
A Gorton lad im born and bred,
And lots of sights Ive seen.
But when I did come back again,
I nearly fell in fits,
For times and folks so alterd lookd,
I thought Id lost me wits.
I turnd me north, I turnd me south,
I turnd me east and west,
And every thing so alter'd lookd,
And some were none for th best.
Theym even alterd Goose Green pump,
Theym turnd it upside down,
And th well theym choked with pavingstones,
Since I left Gorton town.
When I left home some years ago,
Th old folks had lots of trade;
Some right good jobs came tumbling in,
And every one well paid.
Wed good roast beef and pudding,
And ale some decent swigs;
Egad! they livd like fighting-cocks,
And got as fat as pigs.
But now, egad! theres none such things;
Poor folk have empty tripes;
Theres no roast beef to stuff their hides,
Its Poor Law soup and swipes.
An honest working mans no chance;
Grim want does on him frown;
I ne'er thought things would come to this,
When I left Gorton town.
In days gone by our fine young men
Ne'er told such dismal tales;
They'd ne'er a man transplanted then
As far as New South Wales.
Wed honest men in Parliament
Both Tories, Rads and Whigs;
They were never known poor folk to rob,
But now theyre turned to prigs.
Our manufacrers worked full time,
Their mills were seldom stopt;
No general turn-outs were there then,
Their wages never dropt.
These Corn-law folks and Chartist lads,
Might talk till all were brown,
Without being sent to treading-mills
When I left Gorton town.
In days gone by I never thought
Such days could come as these,
When lads were all as gay as larks,
And wenches bright as bees.
Right merrily they joggd to th fairs
In clogs and light shalloon,
And every one could sport a face
Just like a harvest moon.
But now the clogs and light shalloons,
Each one has thrown aside,
And lasses now are faded moons;
Theyre grown too proud to stride.
The foolish frumps sport mutton pumps,
And yet, their pride to crown,
Theyve hustles tied behind em
Half as large as Gorton town.
But dang it, lads; awst neer forget,
When first I came i th town,
A pretty wench came up to me,
And says, "Where art thou bound?"
But putting all these jokes aside,
We hope these times will mend;
Therell come a day yet when the rich
Will prove the poor mans friend.
When work and honest poverty
Will meet with due regard;
And plotting knaves and creeping slaves
Will get their just reward.
Its soon or late, as sure as fate,
Such things will come to pass;
And when we all get lots of work
Well soon get lots of brass.
With right good trade, and fairly paid,
I dare bet thou a crown,
Therell not be such a place i th world
As merry Gorton town.
Composed in 1865 by John Beswick, the song was very
popular because of its representation of the state of trade and
politics after the Civil War in America.
John Beswick, also known as 'Parish Jack', was a singer and
fiddler. He was in great demand at merrymakings and was a member
of the Gorton choir.
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