Whe's like my Johnny,
Sae leish, sae blithe, sae bonny,
He's foremost 'mang the mony
  Keel lads o' Coaly Tyne.
He'll set or row so tightly,
Or in the dance so sprightly,
He'll cut or shuffle sightly,
  'Tis true - were he not mine.
    Weel may the keel row, etc.

He's ne mair learning
Than tells his weekly earning,
Yet reet frae wrang discerning,
  Tho' brave, ne bruiser he;
Tho' he no worth a plack is,
His awn coat on his back is,
And nane can say that black is
  The white o' Johnny's e'e.

Each pay-day nearly,
He takes his quairt right dearly,
Then talks O latin O cheerly,
  Or mavies jaws away;
How caring not a feather,
Nelson and he together,
The springy French did lether,
  And gar'd then shab away.

Were a' kings comparely,
In each I'd spy a fairly,
An' aye wad Johnny barly:
  We hae sic bonny bairns;
Go bon, the queen, or misses,
But wad for Johnny's kisses,
Luik upon as blisses,
  Scrimp meals, caff beds, and dairns.

Wour lads, like their deddy,
To fight the French are ready,
But gie's a peace that's steady,
  And breed cheap as lang syne;
May a' the press-gangs perish,
Each lass her laddy cherish,
Lang may the Coal Trade flourish
  Upon the dingy Tyne.

Bright Star o' Heaton,
Your aye wour darling sweet'en,
May heaven's blessings leet on
  Your leddy, bairns, and ye;
God bless the king and nation,
Each bravely fill his station,
Our canny Corporation
  Lang may they sing wi' me.
    Weel may the keel row, etc.