MIRACULOUS WELL
Sandyford Dene, Newcastle Upon Tyne
This well, sadly, no longer exists as far as I know. I came across mention of it in a book published in 1842 and titled (deep breath)...
THE
NEWCASTLE SONG BOOK;
OR,
TYNE-SIDE SONGSTER.
BEING A COLLECTION OF COMIC AND SATIRICAL SONGS, DESCRIPTIVE OF ECCENTRIC CHARACTERS,
AND THE MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF A PORTION OF THE LABOURING POPULATION OF NEWCASTLE AND THE NEIGHBOURHOOD.
CHIEFLY IN THE NEWCASTLE DIALECT.
NEWCASTLE SONG BOOK;
OR,
TYNE-SIDE SONGSTER.
BEING A COLLECTION OF COMIC AND SATIRICAL SONGS, DESCRIPTIVE OF ECCENTRIC CHARACTERS,
AND THE MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF A PORTION OF THE LABOURING POPULATION OF NEWCASTLE AND THE NEIGHBOURHOOD.
CHIEFLY IN THE NEWCASTLE DIALECT.
The concept of the short, snappy title evidently wasn't in vogue in 1840s Newcastle, but I suppose at least you were quite clear about what you were getting. Anyhow, the particular comic and satirical song in question here was the work of one R. Emery and titled
THE MIRACULOUS WELL; Or, NEWCASTLE SPAW WATER.
The publisher added a short passage that helpfully sheds some light on the origins of this song -
Some years ago, a spring of water was observed to ooze from the bank at the foot of Sandyford Dean, to which some people attributed medicinal qualities; but it was not generally noticed till the spring of 1841, when its fame spread abroad, and drew the attention of multitudes of people to the spot, many of whom being afflicted with complaints of long standing, after drinking freely of this water, declared themselves cured; and some of the faculty proving its qualities by analyzation, gave it a more favourable report, which caused still greater numbers of invalids, &c. to visit the spring—some with casks and cans, others with jugs and bottles, anxiously waiting for a turn. Whether the benefits said to have been received from this water were real or imaginary, time, the test of all things, will assuredly prove.
Unfortunately, time, the test of all things, doesn't seem to have been kind to this well, and its fame was short lived. Still, it got a song written about it, which is immortality of a kind...
To be sung to the tune of "Rory O'More", incidentally.
A fig for quack doctors, their pills and their stuff,
Our neighbours of them have been tir'd long enough;
E'en Dinsdale and Croft their pretensions withdraw,
And Harrowgate bends to our Newcassel Spaw:
The halt and the blind, and the grave and the gay,
To drink of the water, in crowds haste away;
And gouty old bachelors thither repair,
With Jews, Turks, and tailors, its virtues to share.
Hurrah for Newcassel!—Newcassel for me!
Where ale is so prime, and the lasses so free:
Your lumps, bumps, and rheumatics vanish like snaw,
By one mighty draught of this wonderful Spaw!
One day Cuddy Willy sat down by the spring,
And fiddled and sang till he made the Dean ring;
Then said to the crowd—My lads, as to the Spaw,
Good whisky improves it, aw verra weel knaw!--
But, if you'll be seated, you'll soon hear me sing
The magical cures that's performed by this spring:--
He cut an odd caper, and thus he began--
First drinking a quart from a rusty tin-can.
Hurrah for Newcassel! &c.
Awd Humpy-back'd Dick, and two or three mair,
Fra Shiney Raw pit to the Well did repair;
He drank of the Spaw, when the hump, in a crack,
Dissolv'd and soon vanish'd frae poor Dicky's back!
Lord bliss us! cried timber-toed tee-total Peg,
If it banishes humps, it might bring forth a leg!
She got to the Well, with the Spaw she made free,
And very soon after poor Peggy had three!!!
Hurrah for Newcassel! &c.
Pure sanctified Betty scarce knew what to think--
Hard might be her fate if she ventur'd to drink--
For most of the lasses that live in Lang Raw,
Have getten the dropsy by tasting the Spaw!
The doctors declare, that at forty weeks' end,
'Twill be in their arms, and the dropsy will mend;
The howdies are wishing the time was well o'er,
For surely such water was ne'er known before.
Hurrah for Newcassel! &c.
A bumper, cried Cuddy, and toasted the Queen,--
Which soon was responded by all on the green,--
May she have a son soon as big's Johnny Fa'--
(There's virtue in wishing while drinking the Spaw).
So now, my good lasses, gan hyem to your wark--
There's danger in wand'ring the Dean in the dark
'Mang trees and awd quarries—I'd have ye beware,
Remember poor Peggy was caught in the snare.
Hurrah for Newcassel! &c.
R. Emery was also responsible for NEWCASTLE BEER versus SPAW WATER, but you feel he was scraping the barrel a bit by this stage and the dialect gets a bit impenetrable. The Law of Diminishing Returns and all that...