OF manufactures, trade, inventions rare,
Steam-towers and looms, you’d know our Borough’s share -
’Tis small: we boast not these rich subjects here,
Who hazard thrice ten thousand pounds a-year;
We’ve no huge buildings, where incessant noise
Is made by springs and spindles, girls and boys;
Where, ’mid such thundering sounds, the maiden’s song
Is “Harmony in Uproar” all day long.
Still common minds with us in common trade,
Have gain’d more wealth than ever student made;